His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 175

Zane’s POV

The plan was never to fuck Olive Monroe when I saw her at the club tonight, but plans changed the second I watched that sadistic bastard Cole approach her.

I knew Cole was up to no good-he had never been up to any good, not from the moment he’d walked into Olive’s life and spent years systematically breaking her down piece by piece.

Not I was any better.

And I’d tried to go easy on him, had restrained myself from using every resource at my disposal to destroy him completely, could have terminated every single one of his pathetic little games and made him fall just as quickly as he’d risen, but because he’d somehow stolen my sister’s heart, I couldn’t.

But watching him from across the club trying to manipulate Olive, trying to twist words to fit his favor, trying to plant seeds of doubt about me in her mind, was enough to make me want to blow his fucking head off.

And the second my lips crashed against hers in front of everyone, in front of Cole, in front of the entire VIP section full of people who would spread this story across the city by morning, I knew tonight wasn’t going to end with me just letting her go back home alone.

Because tonight she was coming with me.

She wanted to know the real Zane Mercer, wanted to know my secrets, wanted to understand the parts of me I’d kept locked away from everyone including my own family.

Maybe I would indulge her in one of them-one where she either runs away screaming or gets so confused she doesn’t know whether to stay or go-but there was no stepping back now.

She was already too deep in, way too deep to let her go now.

Even if she ran to the deepest part of this world, to the furthest corner she could find, I was going to chase after her and drag her back to me.

I pulled back from her lips, my hands still wrapped tight around her neck, not allowing her to leave, not giving her the option of walking away while I watched her breathe roughly because I hadn’t given her the chance to take a proper breath the second I’d crashed my lips against hers.

Her lips looked already too swollen, too red, and so fucking tempting that I didn’t care about the audience we had, didn’t care that Cole was watching, didn’t care that dozens of people were staring at us like we were putting on a show.

“Now I understand what this is,” Cole’s voice suddenly boomed through the space between us, breaking through the moment. “I just realized that deep down, Olive, you liked that I watched. You liked that I was there when you fucked Zane. You like me watching you while you make out with him. Is this your form of revenge? Fine. You win.”

Cole’s words came out broken, defeated, and I’d never heard a man sound so thoroughly destroyed as Cole Maddox did in that moment—a man who looked like he’d finally accepted he’d lost everything that mattered.

I didn’t pull back when Olive turned her head to look at him, watching him walk away with his shoulders hunched and his footsteps heavy, and before she could respond or say anything to stop him, he was gone.

And when she turned her head to look back at me, I could see the hurt flashing across her face, the confusion knitting her brows together, the way her lips parted like she wanted to say something but didn’t know what.

And I could guess the questions running through her mind, could practically hear her wondering if Cole was right, if some part of her had enjoyed the attention, if she was as fucked up as both of us seemed to be.

And it was hard to accept-impossible to swallow-that no matter how much Olive hated Cole, she still cared for him on some level, still felt something when he looked at her with those broken eyes.

That thought alone, the idea that she still thought about him, still cared what he felt, made my hands tighten around her neck possessively, and when she opened her mouth to speak, to break the silence that Cole had left behind with his pathetic sob story, I didn’t give her the chance.

I couldn’t.

I smashed my lips hard against hers again, not giving her a chance to process what Cole had said, not allowing her to overthink or question or doubt what was happening between us.

Because I couldn’t allow Cole, or anyone else, to break us apart, to change what was about to happen tonight, to stop me from claiming her completely and letting her into a part of me that I’d hidden for almost two decades.

I was whipped as hell, and there was absolutely no denying it anymore.

“Come on,” I said, dragging her toward where my car was parked, my mind already reeling with everything I wanted to show her, everything I wanted to do with her, and still scared out of my mind that she was going to take one look at what I was about to reveal and run as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

The second we were both inside my car, she turned to look at me, and I could see her eyes filled with so many questions, could practically watch the curiosity forming pathways through her mind, could see something else lurking beneath the surface.

Fear

Good.

She should be scared.

Perhaps it would make her want to back off when she heard just a partial truth about who I really was beneath all the carefully constructed layers I showed the world.

I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, one hand on the steering wheel and the other reaching over to rest on her thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress.

And as we drove through the dark streets toward the one place I’d never brought anyone before, I wondered if this was the biggest mistake I’d ever made.

Or if it was the only honest thing I’d done in years.