His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 64

COLE’s POV

My heart thudded loud the second I stepped out of my car, cold air slamming into my lungs, smoke ripping from my lips with each exhale.

Everything that had happened in the past hour played on repeat in my head, and I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up -dark, unhinged, echoing off the empty parking garage walls.

I couldn’t believe what Sophia had done.

Made everything so fucking easy for me.

Handed me Olive on a silver platter without even realizing it. Ruined her image so thoroughly that she’d have nowhere else to turn.

It was so obvious who’d orchestrated that video. So fucking obvious.

Sophia thought she was clever. Thought she’d manipulated me into proposing, into playing the devoted fiancé while she destroyed her brother’s new toy. But she had no idea I’d been ten steps ahead the entire time.

Naive little rich girl playing games she didn’t understand.

But that video? That public humiliation? That stunt wasn’t something I could’ve pulled off alone. Someone had helped her. Someone with resources, with access to deep fake technology good enough to fool hundreds of people.

My mind circled back to the obvious answer.

Sophia.

It had to be her. No one else had that kind of motive, that kind of vindictive creativity. She wanted Olive gone, wanted her brother free from whatever spell Olive had apparently cast over him.

And I’d just sat back and watched it happen, knowing exactly how I’d use it.

Because I knew those were fakes. Knew Olive could never pull off something that calculated, that cruel. She was too weak. Too pathetic. Too desperate for approval to ever think of using someone like Zane Mercer.

She didn’t have it in her.

Which made this so much sweeter.

I laughed again, the sound bouncing off concrete walls as I walked toward the building entrance.

My feet stopped right in front of her door-apartment 4C, the penthouse suite I believed Zane had paid for because there was no way she could afford this, she was never the type to be financially independent.

I stood there, staring at the door, and smiled.

Everything was falling into place.

When Olive came back-and she would come back, broken and humiliated and desperate-she’d be too weak to reject me. Too scared, too shattered to do anything but collapse into the arms of the one person who’d “always been there for her.”

She’d have no choice but to accept me.

No-she’d beg me to take her back.

And I’d make it difficult. So fucking difficult. Make her work for make her grovel make her understand that she’d never find anyone like me. That I was the only one who’d ever stand by her side after a scandal like this

I pulled the metallic keycard from my back pocket, staring at the beauty in my hands

The key that would open every door for me.

Slowly, I swiped it across her keypad, watching the light blink green, hearing that soft ping as the lock disengaged.

“Oh my god, Olive, I whispered into the empty hallway. You just fell right into my trap

The door swung open and I stepped inside

The apartment smelled like her-that fresh, clean scent she always wore, the perfume I used to say I hated but now found intoxicating in its familiarity.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Sophia wouldn’t notice my abunce. She’d be too busy showing off her engagement ring, too excited about her devious plan to rip her brother away from Zane or whatever twisted sibling rivalry bullshit she had going on

Sweet, naive girl. Perfectly staining her hands just to open doors for me.

I looked around quickly, scanning for the best spots to plant the cameras I’d brought. Small. Discreet. High-definition.

I found three perfect locations within minutes.

Who the fuck was that?

I didn’t have time to think. Didn’t have time to process. I just needed to hide.

My head snapped toward the closet and without thinking, I ran.

I yanked the door open, saw it wasn’t completely filled with clothes yet, and squeezed inside, pulling the door shut behind me just as I heard the front door to the apartment open.

There was a small gap in the closet door-just enough to see through, just enough to hear everything.

Strange voices filtered in.

“You don’t need to follow me inside,” Olive’s voice, tired and strained. “I can take care of myself. Zane shouldn’t be sending his men to babysit me. I need to rest. I’ve had quite a day.”

“I understand. Miss Monroe,” the man’s voice was deep, authoritative. “But Mr. Mercer insisted I stay until he arrives.”

My heart skipped.

Zane was coming.

“No, no, no,” I muttered under my breath, beads of sweat already forming at my temples, my eyes widening in the darkness of the closet.

“And he’s here now,” the man said.

Just then, I heard a distant knock at the door.

“Zane,” Olive’s voice, soft with something I couldn’t quite identify Relief? Confusion? Something else?

“Fuck,” I whispered into the darkness, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I’m dead.”

This wasn’t how I expected things to turn out.

Not even fucking close.