Chapter 44 Cole
COLE
“Your father would like to speak with you,” his receptionist said when I arrived at the top floor of Carter Industries, determined to squeeze in a few hours of work before the game.
I was exhausted.
I’d spent the night at Alek’s, staring at Eva’s sleeping face, cataloging every freckle, memorizing the way she fit against me. It should have been amazing to have her back. Instead, it felt like I was standing on crumbling ground, waiting for the inevitable collapse.
My father wouldn’t tolerate cheating on Delaney or anything else that might put this merger at risk.
I’d done it anyway. Weak, pathetic, fucking fool.
I was a moth drawn to Eva’s flame, helpless against the pull of her fierce determination, her sweetness when she let her mask fall, and the way she looked at me like I was more than just the heir to Jedediah Carter’s millions.
I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want her. And yet, here I was, ready to burn down everything for a shot at saving her from my father.
Instead of stopping by my office to drop off my bag, I strode straight to my father’s door. Delaying would only make it worse. He’d interpret hesitation as weakness, and weakness, he couldn’t stomach.
I rapped at the door once before pushing it in.
“Cole,” he growled, standing. Tension radiated off him in waves, and his sleeves were rolled up, veins popping in his forearms. This was bad. Very bad. “You fucking idiot.”
I stayed where I was, waiting for the explosion.
“Arrested? At a fucking party? How the fuck am I supposed to convince the board you’re taking this seriously when you get arrested for fighting?”
My jaw worked. The urge to defend myself died in my throat. Explanations were excuses, and excuses were weaknesses.
“Dad, I—” My fists clenched despite my best efforts. I pried them open and forced my breathing to steady. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The therapist I’d been forced to see during rehab had taught me that—coping skills, she’d said.
I wasn’t a child anymore. He couldn’t beat me, couldn’t lock me in closets, couldn’t press cigarettes against my skin while telling me real men didn’t cry. I was twenty-two years old, standing on the brink of everything I’d ever worked for—the NHL, financial independence, freedom.
Whatever he had to say, I could tolerate it. I’d tolerated far worse.
“Was she there?”
My heart stopped. The office was airless, the expensive ventilation system inadequate against the weight of that simple question.
She. Not Delaney, my fiancée, the woman whose face appeared in business magazines beside mine, whose father’s company would merge with Carter Industries in a deal worth hundreds of millions.
She.
Eva.
“Was she?”
I swallowed hard. The lie formed on my tongue. No, sir. I was defending a teammate. It was a misunderstanding, but it dissolved before I could speak it. He already knew. He always knew before he asked the question.
“Dad—”
“Enough.” He roared the word, slamming his hands on the desk and sending papers flying. “I am fucking tired of this. You are engaged to Delaney Hartwell! You are my heir!”
Shame tried to claw its way up my spine. I shoved it down and let the exhaustion and frustration and anger—always the anger, simmering just beneath my skin—rise instead.
“I’m doing my best!” The words exploded out of me, loud enough to surprise us both.
I never yelled back, never dared, but the possibility of earning Eva’s forgiveness had broken me wide open.
“I’m in school full-time, I’m playing Division I hockey, and now, I’m working twenty hours a week for you.
There is only so much of me to go around. ”
For just a breath, emotion flickered across his face—not pride, never pride, but perhaps surprise I’d finally grown a spine.
His demeanor turned to ice. “So why are you spending time with that trash then?”
Rage turned the edges of my vision red. He could call me disappointing, question my commitment, my future, but Eva…don’t you fucking dare.
“Enough,” I snarled. “I’m doing exactly what you want. I’m trying to make you happy and follow my dreams at the same time. Why won’t you let me do that?”
My voice cracked on the last word. Fucking pathetic. I was twenty-two years old and still begging for scraps of approval from a man who’d never had any to give.
“Because you’ll fail, like you always fail, and then where will I be? Without the heir I fucking need.”
He walked to the front of the desk, and my brain screamed at me to step back, to protect myself, but I stood my ground. I was taller than him now, stronger. My years of training for hockey had transformed my body into raw power.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that I was plotting to take him down. It didn’t matter that I hated him with every inch of my being. I was still a child, standing in this same office while he explained exactly how I’d let him down.
“Someone’s been accessing files they shouldn’t,” he snarled.
“And I don’t have the time to figure out who the fuck is digging around in my financials and force my son to man the fuck up.
I’m done, Cole.” His voice went quiet, which was even worse than the yelling.
“You are going to straighten out and start acting like someone poised to inherit a business worth billions. Immediately.”
My chest tightened.
“Since nothing else seems to have gotten through to you, you are going to walk out of this office and call that new coach and quit the team.”
No. I screamed inside my head but couldn’t form the word on my hips.
Hockey was the only thing I’d ever been good at, the only place where I was Cole Carter the player, not Cole Carter the heir, the only place where my worth was measured in assists and goals instead of how much money I could make for my father.
“Or,” he continued with deliberateness, “I am going to ruin your friends.”
My blood went cold.
“Tristan Baptiste will lose his scholarship and his shot at an NHL contract. I’m sure the board would be very interested if I were to drop evidence in their laps of his illegal betting and throwing games.”
What? Tristan doesn’t gamble on games. He’s never— Oh. My father didn’t care about truth. This was about grinding me under his thumb and keeping me in line.
“And the girl? She’s going to lose everything.”
My hand flew to my chest before I could stop it, pressing against the sudden sharp pain blooming there. My heart hammered against my palm, each beat spelling out her name.
Eva. Eva. Eva.
My eyes shot to my father’s. “What does that mean, everything?”
The question escaped before I could think better of it. He hadn’t admitted he was blackmailing her, that they had a relationship outside of his obvious hatred for the time I spent with her. Would he tip his hand now?
His eyes gleamed, dark and satisfied. He’d been waiting for me to ask. “You don’t rise to these heights without knowing who to call when you need someone hurt,” he said.
He’d destroy her.
“Dad, don’t.” My voice came out broken, hoarse. “Please.”
“Then you know what you need to do.”
He returned to his desk, settling into his chair with the satisfied air of a man who’d just closed a lucrative deal. When I didn’t move—couldn’t move, frozen in the wreckage of the future I’d been stupid enough to imagine—he turned to his monitor.
I stood there trembling, every muscle locked, transported back to being ten years old and standing in this same office while he explained why I needed to be better, stronger, more. Back when I still believed if I just tried hard enough, I could earn his love.
I knew better now.
But Eva didn’t deserve to pay for my weakness. Tristan didn’t deserve to lose everything he’d worked for. Even Alek, with his dark past and dangerous connections, didn’t deserve prison.
They didn’t deserve to suffer because I’d been selfish enough to want someone who was never mine to keep, who didn’t want me anyway.
My father glanced up, one eyebrow raised, as if surprised to find me still standing there. “You’re dismissed.”