Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 67

KATY’S POV

“This place is so cool.” I giggle, then quickly bite it back when I remember I’m in public and about to walk into the conference room for the Network Collective. I take a breath, but it’s useless. The excitement bubbling in me refuses to stay down.

“You look like a kid about to enter Disneyland,” Braydon teases.

I shoot him a look but can’t help smiling. “You don’t get it,” I say, shaking my head. And he really doesn’t. Even in ten years, I doubt he’ll understand what this moment means to me.

Freshman me-the one who watched clips from this conference instead of attending-would be crying right now. I used to imagine what it’d be like to be here, surrounded by people who actually built something from nothing. And now, I’m finally walking into a room full of them.

Forget Vogue or big brand names that people want to be in, this is what I’ve always wanted. A chance to learn from people who’ve made it. And this year’s lineup? Crazy good. Whitney Wolfe Herd, Ben Francis, Sara Blakely, Steven Bartlett and more people who literally turned ideas into empires.

How could I not be this excited?

“Think our seats are way back?” I whisper to Braydon, lowering my voice as the elevator

climbs.

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

I nod slowly, pretending to stay calm, then glance at him again. His collar’s uneven, so I reach out and fix it. He smirks and I just scoff, stepping back. Typical Braydon. Always finding a reason to look smug.

He’s wearing a simple blue shirt tucked into dark trousers. Very corporate energy. And somehow, we ended up matching. My blouse is a similar shade of blue, paired with black tailored pants and heels. Standing next to him, we look like we coordinated outfits. I just know people are going to assume we are dating.

The elevator dings softly, and when the doors slide open, I step out and stop dead in my tracks.

My jaw drops.

The room spreads out in front of me like something out of a dream. Rows of seats, a massive LED screen glowing with the Network Collective logo, warm lighting bouncing off glass walls, and people…so many people, already finding their seats, laughing, talking, and networking like they were born for it.

The place looks like heaven.

If I die, I want to be buried here. Actually, scratch that…cremate me and scatter my ashes right by that stage.

Still taking everything in, I feel Braydon’s arm loop around mine, gently steering me through the crowd toward our seats.

When I realize we’re not sitting all the way at the back, I almost squeal again. Our seats are close enough to actually see the speakers clearly, not just the tops of their heads. I bite my lip, trying to keep my excitement under control, but it’s useless.

As I settle in, I glance around, spotting a few familiar faces from online panels and interviews, and my grin widens.

This is it. The moment freshman me dreamed about. Honestly, this might just be the best day of my life.

****

**

“Aren’t you taking notes?” I nudge Braydon, narrowing my eyes when I catch him scrolling through his phone. Ethan Cole-the Ethan Cole, founder of Strive Global-is literally giving his keynote, and I’m over here scribbling down every word like it’s sacred scripture. At this point, if he coughs, I’m writing that too.

“I’m listening,” Braydon says, flashing me a lazy smile.

Sure. And I’m Beyoncé.

I roll my eyes but let it go. I can’t exactly force him to care.

I turn back to the stage, jotting down another quote before Ethan wraps up his talk. The applause is loud, the kind that makes your palms sting, and then there’s a short break.

Braydon exhales beside me loudly. I already know that sound. It’s the I’m-about-to-say-someth ing-that-goes-against-everything-this-event-stands-for kind of sigh.

“Do any of these people actually have successful businesses?” he drawls, leaning back in his chair and looking at me.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify