His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 134: Zane's Pov

The glass ceiling-to-floor windows revealed the entire city sprawled beneath us.

High-rise buildings. Traffic moving fast. The skyline stretching endlessly toward the horizon.

But that wasn't what caught my attention.

It was the man standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back, overlooking his empire.

Grayson Sinclair.

I walked into the conference room, my footsteps echoing against the polished marble floor. His secretary had offered me a chair, the one directly across from his desk, but I remained standing.

Waiting.

When Grayson finally turned to face me, his eyes held an intensity that would've made lesser men flinch.

Ice-cold. Calculating. The gaze of a man who'd spent decades building empires and destroying enemies.

This was the first time I'd been in the same room as Grayson Sinclair alone. Without the pretense of business dinners or charity galas. Without the buffer of other people.

Just us.

Two men who should hate each other. Who probably did hate each other. But who were now bound together by something neither of us had anticipated.

Her.

"I doubted you'd come," Grayson said, his voice measured. Professional. He glanced at his watch—a vintage Patek Philippe. His hands moved to his pockets, and he studied me with the kind of scrutiny that came from decades of reading people.

I remained silent.

Because I wasn't going to admit that the only reason I'd come so early—the only reason I'd dropped everything the second I got his message—was because he'd mentioned Olive.

I needed to know she was safe. That she was okay. That nothing had happened to her.

Before I started considering whether I needed to incapacitate anyone or start World War III.

"What is this meeting about?" I asked finally, my voice cold. "Last I checked, you hated my guts."

Grayson's lips twitched with something that might've been amusement.

"And last I checked," he replied, walking toward the chair opposite me and sitting down with the kind of grace that came from years of power, "you bought a company for over a billion dollars and handed it to me like it was nothing. So tell me, Zane. Why?"

His hands rested on the table where several thick documents were stacked.

"Let's go straight to the point," he added.

I sat down slowly, deliberately, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

"How did you know I bought the company?" I asked, deflecting. "You wouldn't just believe I'd do something like that for your stepdaughter. Plus, you hate my guts. Why would I want to do anything good for you?"

My lips twitched slightly as I watched his eyes tighten, his brows furrow.

"Because maybe," Grayson said quietly, and there was something in his voice now—something almost paternal, "your love for her overrides whatever family rivalry exists between us. Olive is worth more than any rivalry."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

My breath caught. My hands tightened around the armrests of the chair. A hardening, sick pain squeezed through my chest, constricting around my heart.

I had to consciously dismiss the feeling that I was—

"Pathetic," I said aloud, cutting off those thoughts before they could form into something real.

Grayson raised an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't go to such extremes for Olive," I continued, my voice flat. Emotionless.

"Are you sure about that?" Grayson asked. "Because she seems to be in some sort of trouble."

My entire body went rigid.

Every muscle tensed. My eyes flared with something dangerous, something violent. Like I was about to lose consciousness in a matter of seconds.

The words hit me harder than anything I'd experienced in years. Every thought I'd been trying to suppress came crashing down like a tidal wave.

It took everything in me—every ounce of self-control I possessed—not to stand up and walk toward him. Not to grab him by the collar and demand he tell me what the fuck was wrong with Olive.

"What's wrong with Olive?" I asked, and my voice came out low. Dangerous.

"I thought you said you weren't interested in her," Grayson replied, and there was a slight curve to his lips now.

Testing me. Playing me.

"I asked a question, Grayson Sinclair," I said, my voice dropping even lower. "Or I swear to God, I will take back every bit of help I gave you and watch your company crumble to dust."

The threat hung in the air between us.

And then I heard it.

A chuckle.

A deep, genuine chuckle coming from Grayson's lips.

And that's when it hit me.

This motherfucker.

He'd pranked me. Like a goddamn hormonal teenager playing mind games.

I, Zane Mercer, had been defeated by a cheap-ass psychological trick.

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack.

"Zane Mercer," Grayson said, and his face had transformed now—back to that cold, expressionless CEO mask that reminded me uncomfortably of my father. "I believe I don't need to tell you that I've gotten all the information I needed from you. And for that, I'm going to take this meeting to the next level. Since we're on the same playing field now."

I stared at him, fury and grudging respect warring inside me.

"You're playing a dangerous game," I said quietly.

"The one you involved my stepdaughter in," Grayson shot back, and there was steel in his voice now. Real anger. "A game of rivalry. One which I am absolutely not in support of."

His hands clenched on the table, knuckles white.

"I never sought your help," he continued. "Yes, it somehow involved my daughter. But I am not the kind of father who uses her as a pawn. Who wants to hurt her or lie to her."

He leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine.

"I would rather watch my company crumble to ashes than seek help from you. And you know that, Zane Mercer. You're counting on it. You're punishing me with that knowledge."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"And for that," he said, pushing the stack of documents across the table toward me, "I'm going to offer you this. I don't want to be some pathetic asshole who takes things from an enemy without reciprocating. Here's a deal."

I stared at the documents but didn't reach for them yet.

"If you're going to save my company," Grayson said, "then do it properly. Stop hiding under the pretense of owning a racing club."

My eyes snapped up to his.

He knew.