His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 184: Cole's Pov

Sophia showed up exactly twenty-three minutes after her phone call, which was faster than I'd expected but not surprising given how angry she'd sounded.

I'd used those twenty-three minutes to make myself look appropriately concerned and sympathetic—changing out of the sweatpants I'd been wallowing in and into jeans and a fitted t-shirt, running my hands through my hair to look casually attractive instead of like I'd been drinking alone in the dark, and clearing away the whiskey bottle so it didn't look like I had a problem even though we both knew I did.

When I opened the door, Sophia practically stormed inside without waiting for an invitation, her heels clicking sharply against my hardwood floors in a way that made it clear she was furious and looking for someone to unleash that fury on.

She was wearing one of those power suits she favored for work—perfectly tailored, obscenely expensive, designed to make everyone around her feel inferior—but her normally perfect appearance was slightly disheveled in ways that told me exactly how upset she actually was.

Her hair was coming loose from whatever style she'd had it in earlier, her makeup was smudged slightly around her eyes like maybe she'd been crying or close to it, and there was a tightness around her mouth that spoke of barely controlled rage.

"That fucking bitch," Sophia said without preamble, throwing her designer bag onto my couch with enough force that it bounced. "That absolute conniving little bitch thinks she can just waltz into my family's company and steal everything I've worked for."

I closed the door and leaned against it, crossing my arms and watching her pace across my living room like a caged animal looking for something to attack.

"Olive?" I asked, even though I obviously knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Who else?" Sophia spun to face me, her eyes blazing with the kind of hatred that most people reserved for their worst enemies. "She orchestrated the entire thing—had that pathetic assistant of hers present a strategy that was clearly stolen from my team, then had the audacity to accuse me of plagiarism when I called her out on it."

I moved to the kitchen area and grabbed two wine glasses, because I knew Sophia well enough by now to know that she needed alcohol when she got like this, needed something to take the edge off the fury before she spiraled into the kind of dramatic meltdown that made her say things she'd regret later.

"Tell me what happened," I said, keeping my voice calm and sympathetic as I poured expensive red wine into both glasses—the kind she'd brought over weeks ago because my taste in wine apparently wasn't sophisticated enough for her standards.

Sophia took the glass I offered and drank half of it in one long swallow, which told me this was even worse than I'd initially thought.

"We had the assessment meeting with my all too surprising second brother today," she said, her voice tight with barely controlled emotion. "He came in early—wasn't supposed to be there for another two days but showed up this morning without warning, which already put everyone on edge because we weren't fully prepared."

She started pacing again, the wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her glass with each agitated movement.

"And Olive—perfect, innocent little Olive Monroe—she has the nerve to let that mouse of an assistant present their strategy instead of doing it herself, which was clearly some kind of calculated move to make Jessica look good and make me look bad by comparison. That oh maybe...she had a better assistant."

I took a sip of my own wine and watched her carefully, noting the way her hands were shaking slightly, the way her voice kept getting higher and more strained with each sentence.

"And Antonio ate it up," Sophia continued bitterly. "Sat there asking questions and nodding along like everything Jessica was saying was brilliant, like the strategy wasn't completely derivative and obvious, like Olive hadn't clearly coached her through every single word."

"What was the strategy?" I asked, moving to sit on the couch because standing felt like too much effort when I was this interested in watching Sophia unravel.

"Some three-phase rollout bullshit about positioning Antonio as the face of next-generation athletic performance," Sophia said dismissively, waving her hand like the specifics didn't matter. "The kind of generic corporate speak that sounds impressive but doesn't actually mean anything. But Antonio loved it because apparently my brother has terrible taste in everything including which strategies to approve."

She drained the rest of her wine and held out her glass for a refill, which I provided because keeping her drinking meant keeping her talking.

"And then Stephanie presented our strategy," Sophia continued, "and suddenly everyone's acting like we're the ones who plagiarized when it was obviously the other way around. Olive and Jessica somehow got access to our work and copied it, then had the audacity to present it first so they could claim we were the ones stealing."

I made appropriate sympathetic noises even though I was pretty sure that wasn't what had actually happened, because I knew Sophia well enough to know that she had no problem bending the truth when it served her purposes.

"What did Antonio say?" I asked.

Sophia's face twisted with something between rage and humiliation. "He chose their strategy. Said he preferred working with people who demonstrate integrity rather than playing political games, which was clearly directed at me even though Olive was the one manipulating the entire situation."

She sank down onto the couch beside me, suddenly looking exhausted in a way that made her seem almost vulnerable.

"And the worst part—the absolute worst fucking part—is that he made this comment about looking forward to working more closely with Olive, and the way he said it..." She trailed off, her jaw clenching. "It was the same tone he uses when he's interested in a woman. Like he was already planning how to get her into bed."

I felt something cold settle in my stomach at that, not because I gave a shit about Antonio Mercer's intentions but because the thought of Olive with any Mercer other than the one I wanted to destroy made my hands want to curl into fists.

"You think Antonio's interested in Olive?" I asked carefully.

"I know he is," Sophia said bitterly. "I saw the way he looked at her. The way he focused all his attention on her instead of his own sister. And Olive just sat there acting like she didn't notice, but she noticed. She knows exactly what kind of power she has over men and she uses it to get whatever she wants."

The jealousy and resentment in Sophia's voice was palpable, and I found myself oddly sympathetic to it because I understood exactly what she was feeling—that particular rage that came from watching Olive Monroe move through the world collecting male attention like it was something she was entitled to, while leaving destruction in her path.

"What about Zane?" I asked, because this was the information I actually needed. "Does he know about Antonio's interest in Olive?"

Sophia's expression darkened even further. "I don't know. Zane barely talks to me anymore. Ever since Olive came into his life, I've become completely invisible to him. He used to call me every week, take me to lunch, act like he actually gave a damn about his little sister. But now?" She laughed bitterly. "Now I'm lucky if I get a text message response."

She turned to look at me with eyes that were slightly glassy from the wine and emotion. "Do you know how that feels, Cole? To watch someone you love become a completely different person because of some woman who doesn't deserve him? To see your own brother choose a stranger over his family?"

I did know, actually, because I'd watched Olive choose Zane over me and it had felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart out while it was still beating.

"Has Zane told you anything about his relationship with Olive?" I asked, trying to sound casual even though this was the most important question of the night. "About how serious it is? About their future plans?"