His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 163

Cole’s POV

The whiskey burned going down but not nearly as much as my pride, which had been thoroughly incinerated over the past few weeks in ways that still made my hands shake with rage whenever I thought about it for too long.

I sat alone in my apartment, the expensive downtown loft that I’d leased specifically because it screamed success and made other people envious when they visited, staring at the wall where l used to have my Quantum Al partnership announcement framed like some kind of trophy, before I’d smashed it against the floor in a fit of rage that had left glass embedded in my carpet for days.

The apartment was dark except for the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and I preferred it that way because the darkness matched the absolute fury that had been building in my chest for weeks now, ever since everything I’d worked for had been systematically stripped away from me piece by fucking piece.

First the Quantum Al deal-the biggest opportunity of my entire career, the thing that was supposed to launch me into the stratosphere of elite athletes who had endorsement deals worth more than most people made in their entire lives…had been ripped away and given to Zane fucking Mercer instead, like the universe had decided that one Mercer getting everything he wanted wasn’t enough.

Then the Nike endorsement that I’d been negotiating for months had mysteriously fallen through, with the company citing “concerns about my public image” in the vaguest possible terms that made it clear someone had been feeding them information designed to make me look like a liability.

And then the lawsuit-the goddamn fraudulent contract acquisition lawsuit that had my lawyers working overtime and bleeding my bankaccount dry with their hourly fees, all because someone had decided to dig into my business dealings and expose things that should have stayed buried.

1 took another drink and felt the whiskey settle warm and bitter in my stomach, and I knew exactly who was responsible for all of it even though I couldn’t prove it yet.

Zane Mercer.

The name alone made my jaw clench, made my hands curl into fists around the glass tumbler I was holding like maybe if I squeezed hard enough it would shatter and give me something physical to focus on instead of this consuming rage that had nowhere to go.

He’d done this, had systematically destroyed every opportunity I had, had used his money and his connections and his fucking Mercer name to make sure I lost everything, and all because of her.

Olive.

My Olive, who used to look at me like I hung the fucking moon, who used to depend on me for everything, who used to be so desperate for my approval that she’d twist herself into whatever shape I wanted just to keep me happy.

Except she wasn’t my Olive anymore, was she?

No, now she was walking around the Mercer Company like she owned the place, working on campaigns with Antonio Mercer, probably spreading her legs for Zane whenever he snapped his fingers, and acting like I didn’t even exist except as some embarrassing mistake from her past that she’d rather forget about entirely.

I tried not to think of the day…in her apartment.

But I couldn’t, because had she known about it, that I was there, in that fucking apartment while she moaned Zane’s name like a whore.The thought made me want to put my fist through the wall, made me want to drive to wherever she was right now, question her myself, and remind her exactly who she belonged to, made me want to grab her by the throat and make her remember what it felt like to be mine.

But I’d learned my lesson about acting on impulse, after I’d followed her there and watched her with him and done things that had almost gotten me hard rock angry.

I had to be smarter now, more careful, more strategic about how l went about getting back what was mine.

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