His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 53: Cole's Pov

Almost a year ago, I'd gone grocery shopping with Olive.

It was one of her tiny favorite things to do—wandering through aisles, comparing prices on cereal boxes, getting excited over vegetables like they were treasure. I'd hated it. Hated how domestic it felt, how ordinary. But I went because it kept her happy. Kept her contained.

And as long as she stayed contained—not buying expensive clothes, not dolling herself up, not drawing attention—I could control who looked at her. Who wanted her.

I was paying at the register when the cashier kept glancing at Olive, this stupid smile on his face.

"She's cute," he said, like I wasn't standing right there. "Is she your sister? She could really be in one of those commercials. You know, like that energy drink ad with that hockey guy on the screen."

My head turned toward the display behind the register.

And there he was.

Zane Mercer. Shirtless. Holding a hockey stick with one hand, an energy drink in the other, half his gear on to show off his chest and those goddamn tattoos. His face was everywhere lately—billboards, magazines, screens in every store.

For a second, I couldn't breathe.

My chest constricted as my brain conjured an image I didn't want. Olive standing next to him in that ad. Dressed up. Beautiful. Glowing the way she never glowed with me.

"Keep your eyes to yourself and mind your fucking business," I snapped at the cashier. "She's my girlfriend. Don't you ever speak of such nonsense in front of her."

I grabbed the grocery bag and shoved it at Olive, ignoring the look of concern and confusion on her face.

She'd asked me what was wrong in the car.

I told her nothing.

But the truth? The truth was that cashier had planted something in my head that day. Something I couldn't shake. Couldn't control.

The idea that Olive could be with someone like Zane Mercer.

The flashback hit me hard and I swung the golf club with too much force.

The ball rolled past the hole completely, stopping several feet away, the white surface mocking me.

My knuckles were white around the club grip, hands shaking slightly as I tried to control the anxiety creeping up my spine. The fear I'd been trying to avoid, to suppress, to bury under layers of careful planning.

But it kept coming back.

That image. Olive next to Zane. Olive choosing him. Olive looking at him the way she used to look at me before I broke her down into something manageable.

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping.

It couldn't happen. It wouldn't happen.

I'd make sure of it.

My phone buzzed in the golf cart and I walked over, checking the screen. Unknown number, but I knew who it was.

A smile tugged at my lips. Calculated. Controlled.

"Is it ready?" I asked, staring at the white golf ball in the distance.

"Yes. I sent everything to your assistant."

"Good."

I ended the call.

Walking back to my bag, I selected another ball, positioned myself carefully, and swung. This time, the ball rolled smoothly across the green and dropped perfectly into the hole.

I smiled.

Control. That's all it took. Control over every variable, every outcome, every person.

"Cole!"

I turned to see Sophia walking toward me across the green, her blonde hair catching the sunlight, that innocent smile on her face that made this almost too easy.

Almost.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," she said, slightly breathless. "You didn't tell me you'd be out here playing golf."

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry." I walked toward her, letting concern color my voice. "I told my assistant to let you know where I was. Make sure you knew my whereabouts."

A lie. But she'd never check.

"She didn't tell me." Sophia waved it off, already moving past it. "Anyway, I have the venue prepared for the party! I don't know why you really want to throw me this huge celebration for my birthday, but I love parties."

You could hear the excitement in her voice. Sophia had this quality—her emotions were always right there on the surface. Happy, sad, angry, it all bled through in how she spoke, how she moved.

It made her easy to read. Easy to manipulate.

"You deserve the most beautiful birthday celebration ever," I said, reaching her and brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She beamed.

Then her expression shifted slightly. "Is everything alright? With the whole... Zane and your ex situation?"

I froze for just a fraction of a second.

Then I let a smile slide across my face, overriding whatever she might've seen.

"Why would I care?" I kept my voice light. "It's between them. And anyway, Zane doesn't take relationships seriously. He never has. And Olive?" I laughed. "She's a user. A gold digger. She's there to take what doesn't belong to her, use Zane for his money and connections. She's been trying to get back with me this whole time."

Sophia's eyes widened. I watched confusion and concern creep across her face.

Good.

"What? You can't be serious. Zane would notice. He'd figure it out—"

"Would he?" I pulled out my phone, scrolling to the messages I'd spent hours forging. "Here. She's been sending me messages for the past two weeks. Saying this whole thing with Zane is just a plan. That I should break up with you so we can elope together after she takes everything she can from him."

I watched Sophia's face as she read through the fake texts. Watched her expression shift from shock to hurt to something darker.

It was beautiful. Everything was working exactly as planned.

"God, she's a fucking bitch." Sophia's hands crumpled the phone screen image in her mind. "I can't let her get close to Zane. I can't—"

She looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw something different in her eyes.

Not the sweet, naive girl I'd been dating for months.

Something sharper. More dangerous.

"Cole, we can't let her be with my brother." Her voice had changed too. Harder. More controlled. "She's a manipulator. Zane has suffered enough. If this thing between them is real, if he actually cares about her—"

She stopped, jaw clenching.

"I can't allow it."

I stared at her, recognizing that look. I'd seen it in the mirror often enough.

The look of someone willing to do whatever it takes.

And suddenly, I wondered if maybe I'd underestimated Sophia Mercer.