Woke Up In The Captain's Bed

From the back cover

I was just an underpaid junior designer trying to survive the ruthless world of professional hockey.

But after catching my boyfriend with his hands up my best friend's designer skirt in a filthy alley, I got blackout drunk and stumbled into the wrong armored SUV.

I woke up pinned beneath Kurt Duran—the terrifying, untouchable captain of the New York franchise and the absolute ruler of the sports empire that paid my salary.

Terrified of being branded a desperate gold-digger, I ran. I swallowed a Plan B pill, dumped my cheating ex, and worked myself to the bone to earn the prestigious Milan Design Summit nomination.

But my jealous coworkers couldn't stand a nobody winning. They hacked my terminal and planted stolen competitor files on my workstation, framing me for federal corporate espionage.

My director suspended me on the spot. Security guards began sweeping my life's work into a plastic evidence bin, while my colleagues sneered that I was heading straight to a federal penitentiary.

I clenched my bleeding palms, suffocating under the sheer injustice. I had survived poverty, a cheating ex, and grueling sleepless nights just to prove my worth. Why was my entire career being destroyed over a manufactured lie?

"Hand over your badge and your digital keys," my director barked.

I refused to shed a single tear for those hyenas.

Suddenly, the frosted glass doors were kicked open with a thunderous crash.

Kurt Duran strode into the room flanked by five elite litigation partners, his murderous blue eyes locked directly on me, ready to burn the entire building to the ground.