Contracted To The Beast novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My phone wouldn’t shut up.

I sat in my car outside Rogers Arena, engine still ticking as it cooled, and stared at the screen. The video had hit two million views in four hours.

Maddox Kane-Vancouver Vipers captain, six-foot-five and built like a problem, flipping a hotel table hard enough to shatter glass everywhere. His face twisted in that same cold fury 1 remembered from chem class years ago. The Beast, they called him now. Back then we just called him an asshole.

I killed the clip and dropped my phone in the cup holder. My hands were shaking.

Not from the wind whipping off the Pacific, but from the text Mom sent right after: Clinic rent due again. Zara asked about/ the big hockey man on TV. Love you.

I was here for them. That was it. A job. A fresh start. Whatever Maddox Kane was now, it had nothing to do with me.

I grabbed my duffel, slung it over my shoulder, and stepped into the March chill. The side entrance smelled like wet concrete and hot dogs from the concessions. My new Vipers polo itched against my neck. First day. Dream job. Head physiotherapist for an NHL team. I should’ve been buzzing. Instead my stomach was in knots.

Jamie, the perky assistant who met me at security, didn’t even let me catch my breath. “Dr. Page-Nia, welcome! Owner wants you straight to the physio suite. Kane took a dirty hit in yesterday’s optional skate. Shoulder’s barking. Coach Riggs is already yelling about tomorrow’s game against Calgary.”

Of course it was Kane.

I followed her down the concrete tunnel, sneakers squeaking, the distant smack of pucks and guys shouting on the ice echoing like a heartbeat. My pulse matched it.

Just treat the shoulder. Professional. Polite. Get out. I’d survived worse than seeing an old bully again. I’d raised his secret daughter alone, for God’s sake.

Jamie pushed open the physio suite door. Bright lights. Menthol rubs in the air. One padded table in the center

There he was.

Maddox Kane sat shirtless on the edge, elbows on his knees, dark hair damp and messy from the shower. Broad shoulders carved from years of throwing bodies into the boards. Tattoos snarled down thick arms, shattered ice, roaring beasts, the same ink I used to stare at in the cafeteria when he wasn’t looking. Steel-gray eyes lifted the second I walked in.

The air left the room.

My steps locked. For one stupid heartbeat everything stopped. Those eyes. That sharp jaw. The same cocky tilt to his mouth that used to clear hallways in high school. Recognition slammed into me so hard my bag slipped an inch down my shoulder.

It was him.

The boy who’d tripped my books in the hall for laughs. The one who’d cornered me at Ryan’s graduation party, pressed me against the wall, and kissed me like the world was ending.

only to disappear the next morning with a single text: Don’t get ideas. You were a distraction.

I’d stared at that message for hours back then. Read it until the words stopped making sense. And somehow, it still stung. Now he was my patient.

Jamie cleared her throat. “Maddox Kane, meet Dr. Nia Page, our new head physio. She’ll sort that shoulder.”

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Chapter 1

He didn’t move. Just stared. His brows pulled together slightly, like something wasn’t sitting right. Like he almost recognized me but not quite.

My pulse climbed into my throat.

Don’t… Don’t you dare remember me now.

Then the moment slipped. His expression smoothed out, that same lazy, dangerous smirk sliding back into place like nothing ever cracked.

“Well, shit,” he drawled, voice rough. Nia Page. Small world.”

My mouth went dry. I forced my legs forward and dropped the duffel on the counter with a loud thud. “Small world? That’s what you’re going with?”

He leaned back on his palms, muscles flexing across his chest. “Figured you’d changed your last name or something. Page. huh? Still sounds the same when I say it.”

Heat crawled up my neck. I snapped on a pair of gloves, the latex loud in the quiet room. “Let’s see the shoulder. The shirts already off…convenient.”

His laugh came out short and dark. “Always this sweet on day one, Doc?”

“Only when my first patient is trending for trashing a hotel room before I’ve even clocked in.” I stepped between his spread knees, close enough to smell soap and the faint metallic chill of the rink still clinging to his skin. My hands found his left shoulder-hot, swollen under my fingertips. Professional. Detached. Except my pulse was hammering like I’d just taken a slapshot to the chest.

He watched me, gray eyes tracking every move. “Heard you ripped my playing style on that podcast last month. Called it ‘self-destructive. Cute.”

I pressed my thumb into the joint, feeling the tightness. He didn’t flinch. “Self-destructive is polite. Reckless fits better. You’re one bad check away from blowing this rotator cuff for good.”

“Bench me and the whole team loses.” His free hand suddenly caught my wrist, not hard, but enough to stop the motion. Heat shot straight up my arm. “Vipers don’t bench the Beast, sweetheart.”

I yanked my wrist free and grabbed the ultrasound gel. “Call me sweetheart again and I’ll make sure you sit out the entire playoffs.”

His smirk widened, but something sharper behind it. “Still got that mouth. I remember that much.”

I squeezed cold gel across his shoulder. He hissed through his teeth. Good. I turned the machine on, the low hum filling the silence while I pressed the wand to his skin, eyes on the screen. Tears, swelling, nothing major.

“You’re lucky,” I muttered. “Just inflammation. Ice, rest, and the exercises I’m writing down. No hero crap tomorrow or you’ll be watching from the press box.”

He rolled his shoulder once, testing it, then leaned in closer. His breath brushed my temple. “You talk like you know me. Page.”

I kept my face blank, but inside my stomach flipped.

I do know you. I know exactly how you sound when your walls crack. I know what your hands feel like when they’re not taped up. I wiped the gel off with quick, angry strokes.

“I know the type. Billionaire kid who thinks the rules don’t apply. Bully in high school, bully on the ice. Same guy.”

His jaw tightened. For the first time the smirk faltered. “High school was a long time ago.”

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Chapter 1

“Almost six years,” I shot back, stepping away and peeling off the gloves. My checks burned. I hated that nearly six years, he could still get under my skin like this. “Long enough for some people to grow up. Apparently not you.”

Maddox stood slowly, towering over me. The overhead lights carved shadows across every inch of muscle and ink. He looked even bigger up close. Dangerous. And annoyingly beautiful.

“You grew up nice, though,” he said, voice dropping. “Real nice. Almost didn’t recognize you with the ponytail and the attitude.”

My heart slammed. I busied myself packing my bag so I wouldn’t have to look at him. “Flattery won’t get you cleared for tomorrow’s game.”

He grabbed his shirt off the hook and tugged it over his head in one smooth motion. The fabric stretched tight across his chest. “Wasn’t flattery. Was an observation.”

I zipped the duffel hard enough to make the sound echo. “Observation noted. Keep the tape dry. I’ll check you after morning skate.”

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