Faking it with the NHL’S Golden Boy

Flora's POV

"Oh...fuck...yeah, Sean." My hand slid down my skirt, eyes locked on the magazine in front of me.

Two of my fingers slid deep into my underwear and the only witness was Sean Ferrars's glossy face staring back at me from the cover of Hockey Weekly.

His jaw was sharp, his smirk was wide and my eyes were lolling as my brain rewound to three weeks ago—his hands yanking my hips back, the low grunt he made against my neck as he slammed his dick into me.

I glanced around the semi-transparent glass wall to see if anyone was coming.

I moved my fingers faster, curling it to touch my G-spot as I chased the feeling, my thighs pressing together as I mentally replayed Sean thrusting hard into me without mercy.

A knock at the door interrupted me but I ignored it.

The memory continued. His voice in my ear, rough and low—”you feel so good, Flora”— and I was almost there, right on the brink of—

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

I yanked my hand out, smoothed my skirt down, crossed my legs, and pressed them together, still chasing the pleasure.

"Come in." I called out finally.

The door swung open and Lucille—my crazy ass bestfriend—walked in, looking like someone who had just hit a jackpot. Her eyes swept across the room and finally landed on the magazine on my desk. Her eyes widened like she had just understood something before darting back to me.

I slid a folder over the magazine immediately, straightening on my seat in an attempt to preserve whatever dignity I had left.

"You were doing it again." She said conclusively, her lips stretching in a wide grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I said, fake-reading a document on my desk.

"Oh…yeah…truly, there's no way you were jerking off while looking at your HOT BOYFRIEND'S PICTURE—” I stood up immediately, my palm reaching for her mouth.

"Shut up Lucille…I had an itch.”

"Oh right…an itch...” She mumbled through my palms in the most sarcastic way possible.

“So did you come here to judge me or what?” I withdrew my palm from her mouth, shooting her a stern look.

“Well…not exactly, but since I'm here now I just might.” She teased, scanning my face. “Oh fine.” She rolled her eyes as she got the message my face was passing. “Sean's on right now. The television in the lunch—”

I was at the door before she finished the sentence, my legs still slightly unsteady as I felt the moist in my underwear.

The lunch room was already packed when we got there, the big screen mounted on the wall glowing with the broadcast. I felt the shift the moment I walked in—heads turning, a few nudges, the recognition that I had gotten used to now.

“That's Flora Morgan, Sean Ferrars' girlfriend.”

I stood a little straighter, my heart pounding in excitement.

Sean was relaxed in his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee like he was made for this, and there—there— spinning lazily between his fingers, was the key fob, with the BMW logo catching the studio light.

My chest tightened with pride.

I had drained a full year's advance from my paycheck for that car.

Thirty days of rice and whatever cheap junk was on sale at the end of the aisle, it was absolutely worth it

The look on his face when I handed him the keys on his twenty-fifth birthday had been worth every single grain of mushy rice.

"So how does it feel?" The interviewer leaned forward, her lips stretching into a flirtatious smile. "Being the name everyone's saying right now?"

Sean smiled, his tongue reaching out, moistening his lips in that sexy way that made my heart flutter.

"Well..." He tilted his head slightly to face the camera. "It kinda feels good."

I could feel Lucille's gaze on me as I grinned widely.

The interview continued—stats, plays, the season ahead—and I let myself bask in it, in the warm glow of watching someone I loved exist at his best.

"Word around the rink is that there's a special someone. Someone by the name of Flo—"

I smiled before she could finish and turned back. Everyone was staring at me, probably waiting to clap or something as I maintained my stretched smile.

"Oh—Flora." Sean cut in, and something in his tone made the smile freeze on my face. "She's just a friend."

The room went quiet, as I felt the weight of every eye stare at me, eagerly waiting for me to give them a reaction.

“It's a joke…it's a joke…Sean jokes a lot.” I chuckled, and everyone nodded, chattering lively again as their gaze shifted back to the screen.

I turned around and focused on the screen.

That was a Sean joke—deadpan delivery, waiting for everyone to laugh. I knew his jokes.

"Just a friend?" The interviewer raised an eyebrow. "Her social media page tells a pretty different story."

"Yeah…She just enjoys being all over me and all that shit." Sean shrugged, like he was talking about a problem he wished could be solved. "She's not my girlfriend."

The room was so silent I could hear the fluorescent light buzzing above my head.

Lucille's hand found my wrist. “Sean…that dirt bag.” She scoffed.

I didn't move. My eyes were locked on the screen, my palms shaking as my brain struggled to process what was happening.

"As a matter of fact," Sean continued, and he was smiling now—that smile, the one he reserved only for me. "My girlfriend is actually here today."

A woman stepped onto the podium, looking like she just stepped out of a magazine. She was extremely beautiful, more beautiful than I could ever be.

Sean stood, wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her closer and kissed her in front of the cameras, in front of the whole world.

I felt every single eye in that lunch room turn towards my face.

The silence pressed down on me.

Lucille's grip on my wrist tightened, my heart racing so fast I thought it was about to blow up.

“Miss Morgan to the boardroom. Miss Morgan to the boardroom, please.”

The intercom called out, as if whoever was behind it had seen my despair and decided to do something about it.

My palms were shaking by the time I reached the boardroom door. I pressed them flat against my thighs, my eyes burning with tears that I was forcing back in.

I pushed the door open.

There were four people in the room. Mrs. Calloway from HR, two men I recognized from Legal whose names I didn't know, and a fourth person—a woman in a grey blazer seated slightly apart from the rest, a company laptop open in front of her, her expression perfectly neutral.

The television on the boardroom wall was still running. Sean's voice filled the room before I could fully register anything else.

"—we've actually been dating for three months now," Sean said, his gaze fixed on her like she was shooting stars out of her ass.

Mrs. Calloway reached forward and clicked the television off without looking at it, like she had been waiting for me to hear exactly that much before she did.

"Miss Morgan." She said calmly, leaning forward in her seat. "Please, sit down.”

She paused for a moment till I finally settled down.

"We've identified a significant transfer of funds." She opened the folder in front of her. "From the company account directly into yours."

Sean, that bastard. After everything I did for him. How could he? How could—

"Miss Morgan."

"Miss Morgan."

Mrs. Calloway's voice cracked through my mind, snapping me back to reality. I blinked and suddenly the room was very bright and she was staring at me, her face stripped of emotions.

"As I was saying." She turned the folder around and slid it across the desk towards me. "You have been embezzling company funds, Miss Morgan, along with a Mr. Cooper."

Embezzling.

My heart skipped a beat as the words landed like a grenade.

"I —" My voice came out low. "Wait—what?"

"THIRTY THOUSAND DOLLARS." She held my gaze without blinking. "Transferred into your account, with your signature on the document showing approval."

Thirty thousand dollars. The exact amount I collected as advance to gift Sean a car.

"That's—no." I shook my head, the fog burning off fast now, replaced by panic."No, that's not—It's not—"

"MISS MORGAN—"

"I don't know what Mr. Cooper told you, but I have never touched company funds. I would never—" My voice cracked, and I hated it. I hated that my eyes were filling up right now in front of this woman.

"The documentation is in front of you." Mrs. Calloway's voice didn't waver, not even slightly. "Your signature, your account. The evidence is there."

"The evidence is not—"

"Miss Morgan." She leaned forward, her gaze piercing right into my soul. "I need you to understand the position you are in right now. This is not a conversation."

She paused for a moment. "You have three months to return the full sum of thirty thousand dollars to this company." Her eyes didn't move from mine. "And effective immediately —"

She closed the folder. "— your appointment is terminated."