Chapter 8 His Plan

Kade POV The private lounge is exactly what I expected, dark wood, leather furniture, expensive whiskey lined up behind a bar that looks like it’s never run out of anything. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across one side, offering a perfect view of the city lights. And Nikolai is already there. He’s seated in a leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand like he has all the time in the world. He looks completely at ease, like this is just another business meeting, like he hasn’t spent the last twenty-four hours pulling my entire career out from under me. “Mercer,” he greets smoothly, lifting the bottle of whiskey on the table. “Drink?” I hesitate, my jaw locking. Not because I don’t want one but because I know exactly what this is. A power move and a reminder that he’s in control. I force my feet forward, keeping my expression unreadable as I drop into the chair across from him. “Why the fuck am I here?” I ask. Nikolai smirks, pouring two glasses of whiskey. “Relax, Kade,” he says, sliding one across the table toward me. “Let’s have a drink first. Then we’ll talk.” I don’t touch the glass. Nikolai watches me with the kind of patience that makes my skin itch, his fingers tapping lazily against his own drink. He’s in no rush, completely at ease, like he already knows how this conversation ends. I don’t give him the satisfaction of reaching for the whiskey. “You didn’t drag me here for a drink,” I say, keeping my voice even. “So just say what you want.” His smirk lingers, but his eyes sharpen. He takes a slow sip before setting his glass down, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve had an interesting morning,” he says casually. “I imagine the draft stock drop was a surprise.” My jaw clenches. I already knew he was behind it, but hearing him say it so easily makes my stomach turn. I hold his gaze. “You really think that scares me?” “It should,” he replies without hesitation. “You’re a smart player, Mercer. You know how quickly a career can be over before it even begins.” I lean back, crossing my arms. “Let me guess. You’ll fix it but only if I do something for you.” Nikolai chuckles, shaking his head. “You make it sound so transactional. This isn’t blackmail, kid. It’s control.” The way he says it, calm, matter-of-fact sends something cold down my spine. I exhale slowly, trying to keep my breathing steady. “So what? I throw a game? Take a bad penalty? What do you want?” He tilts his head slightly, studying me. “I want you to understand that you’re already mine.” My pulse spikes, but I keep my face blank. “You see, Kade, what happened last night wasn’t an accident,” he continues. “The man you were with? He works for me.” Everything inside me stills. I don’t react. I can’t react. I keep my hands on the arms of the chair, my fingers pressing into the leather, my face unreadable. But my brain is racing, piecing it together in real time. He set me up. Every part of last night the invitation, the hotel room, the door swinging open it was all planned. “You’re lying,” I say, but my voice isn’t as steady as I want it to be. Nikolai just smiles. “Am I?” He reaches into his pocket and slides a phone across the table. The screen lights up, and there on the screen is a video. I don’t have to press play to know what’s on it. My stomach drops, a sharp, nauseating pull, but I keep my face blank. “This is the part where you tell me to delete it,” Nikolai muses. “That you’ll do anything to make it go away.” I force myself to swallow. “And what if I don’t?” His smirk doesn’t falter. “Then your career ends before it starts.” Silence stretches between us. My chest feels tight, my skin hot despite the chill creeping into my gut.