His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 192: Olive's Pov

My heart rate kicked up because there was something in the way he said it that made it sound like he actually did know something, not just fishing for reactions.

"If you have something to say, then say it," I challenged. "Stop dancing around it and just tell me whatever you think you know."

Cole stared at me for a long moment, clearly debating something.

"I know about that day," he said finally. "The day the video came out. The day you were framed and your entire life fell apart."

I felt my stomach drop. "What about it?"

"I came to your apartment that day," Cole said, and there was something almost gleeful in his voice now, like he'd been waiting for the perfect moment to reveal this. "I wanted to talk to you, wanted to try to fix things between us. But when I got there, I found something interesting."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, but my voice came out weaker than I wanted because I had a terrible feeling I knew where this was going.

"I got to your apartment and the door I unlocked it," Cole continued. "So I let myself in. And you know what I found next after waiting for your silly ass?"

He paused, clearly enjoying this.

"I found you," he said. "With Zane Mercer. In your bedroom. And you were moaning so fucking loud, Olive. Screaming his name like he was the only person in the world who mattered."

The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air straight out of my lungs.

"You were in my apartment?" I managed to get out. "You let yourself into my apartment without permission and—"

"I watched," Cole interrupted, and there was something sick in his smile now. "I stood in your closet and I watched while Zane fucked you against your bed. Watched while you begged him for more. Watched while you gave him everything you used to give me."

I felt bile rising in my throat, felt my hands start shaking with a combination of rage and violation and absolute horror.

"You watched us?" I repeated, my voice coming out strangled. "You stood there and watched without saying anything, without leaving, you just—"

"I wanted to see what was so special about him," Cole said. "Wanted to understand what made Zane Mercer worth throwing away two years of our relationship. And you know what I realized while I was watching?"

He stepped closer and I stepped back, my back hitting the wall.

"I realized that you were never that wild with me," Cole said quietly. "Never that uninhibited. Never that desperate. And I realized that you'd been holding back the entire time we were together, saving that part of yourself for someone you actually wanted."

Tears were burning in my eyes but I refused to let them fall, refused to let Cole see how much his words were destroying me.

"How did Zane know you were there?" I asked, because that detail was suddenly clicking into place, the way Zane had acted that day, the way he'd been so possessive, so deliberately rough, so focused on making me scream loud enough for—

Oh god.

"He saw me," Cole confirmed. "Made eye contact with me in your hallway mirror while he was fucking you. And instead of stopping, instead of telling you I was there, he just kept going. Made it even more intense. Made you scream even louder."

My knees felt weak. My entire body felt weak.

"He knew you were watching and he didn't tell me?" I whispered.

"He knew," Cole said. "And he made damn sure I got a good show. Made damn sure I understood exactly what I'd lost. Made damn sure I saw every single thing you were willing to do for him that you'd never done for me."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't process what I was hearing.

Zane had known Cole was in my apartment.

Had known someone was watching us.

And he'd kept going anyway, had made it into some kind of performance, some kind of claim, without ever telling me I was being observed without my consent.

"You're lying," I said desperately. "You're making this up to hurt me."

"Am I?" Cole asked. "Think about it, Olive. Think about how Zane acted that day. How possessive he was. How he kept saying you were his. How he made you say it out loud over and over again. Who do you think he was really talking to?"

I couldn't answer because my throat was too tight, because everything Cole was saying made too much sense, explained too many things about that day that hadn't quite added up.

"And you want to know the really fucked up part?" Cole continued. "I think Zane knew I was going to be there. I think he set it up. Made sure he slept with you on your bed. Made sure I'd walk in and see exactly what he wanted me to see."

"That's insane," I said, but my voice wavered.

"Is it?" Cole asked. "Or is it exactly the kind of thing someone like Zane Mercer would do? Someone who's used to getting what he wants no matter who gets hurt in the process?"

I wanted to defend Zane, wanted to tell Cole he was wrong, that Zane would never manipulate a situation like that.

But the words wouldn't come.

Because I didn't know if that was true.

I didn't know what Zane was capable of anymore.

"I need to go," I said, pushing past Cole toward the exit.

"Olive, wait—"

"Don't," I said without turning around. "Don't follow me. Don't call me. Just—just leave me alone."

I was almost to the stairs with Cole following behind and throwing heavier comments, when I heard a voice behind me that made my entire body freeze.

A voice I'd recognize anywhere, even over the pounding music and the crowd noise and my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.

"And I hope you enjoyed the show."

I turned slowly, my heart in my throat, hoping against hope, that it wasn’t him, but there he was.

Zane Mercer.

Standing at the entrance to the VIP section in a black leather jacket that made him look dangerous and beautiful and absolutely furious, his blue eyes locked on me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

And everything Cole had just told me came rushing back, making me see Zane through completely different eyes.

Had he known Cole was there that day?

Had he performed for an audience without my consent?

Had he used me to send a message to my ex-boyfriend?

"Zane," I whispered, and I couldn't tell if it came out like a question or an accusation or a plea.

His eyes never left mine as he walked toward me, and I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything except stand there and wait for whatever was about to happen next.