When the Ice King Begged Me to Stay

001Chapter 1 — Bourbon at Closing Time

By the time evening settled over Blackthorne City, the rain had turned the streets into sheets of black glass.

Spring rain whispered against the towers that crowded the skyline, soft and persistent beneath a sky already swallowed by darkness. Thousands of windows glowed above the streets, turning the city into a glittering maze of steel and light.

But Blackthorne never really slept.

Rain or shine, people poured into the streets in search of louder music, stronger drinks, and anything that might make them forget what waited for them at home. Taxis slipped between rows of cars. Neon signs bled color across the wet pavement. Laughter spilled from doorways.

At the heart of downtown stood the city's most notorious nightclub.

The building itself was impossible to miss—a vast circular structure wedged between rows of cold, unimaginative office towers. Neon tubes wrapped around its exterior, spelling out two words in brilliant colors:

THE UNDERGROUND.

Inside, the world was hotter, darker, and far louder.

Music pounded through the club as bodies moved beneath shifting lights. Men and women danced without restraint, surrendering themselves to the rhythm, the alcohol, and whatever desires they had spent the day pretending not to have.

At the far end of the crescent-shaped bar, however, one man seemed completely detached from the party around him.

Cole Hardwin was drinking himself into oblivion.

One hand gripped a bottle of bourbon. He lifted it and drank directly from the neck, barely pausing for breath.

Several empty bottles already lay scattered across the polished bar. More stood unopened beside them.

Cole's suit had once been immaculate.

Now it was a wreck.

His white dress shirt was damp with spilled liquor, the fabric clinging to his chest beneath the colored lights. His tie had been yanked loose and hung crookedly over one shoulder. Dark hair that was normally kept neatly in place had fallen across his forehead, several strands stubbornly framing his face.

Yet even drunk and disheveled, he was impossible to overlook.

His features were sharply defined, his forehead clean and broad, his nose straight, his lips thin and striking.

But it was his eyes that made people hesitate.

Even through the haze of alcohol, those dark eyes carried a cold, cutting intensity. The kind of gaze that had made executives lose sleep and rivals think twice before crossing him.

Tonight, however, none of that mattered.

Tonight, Cole Hardwin was simply a man who had been left behind.

Serena... why did you leave me?

His fingers tightened around the bottle.

I loved you. I gave you everything.

His jaw clenched.

Why wasn't that enough?

He slammed his fist against the bar.

The bartender glanced over but wisely said nothing.

Cole lifted his glass with his other hand and stared at the amber liquid swirling inside.

"I don't want the baby," he muttered, his voice rough and broken. "I don't want that d*mn woman either."

He laughed bitterly.

"I only want you, Serena."

His throat tightened.

"I only want you."

He drained the glass in one swallow.

"I only want you..."

The last words dissolved into a whisper.

Cole dropped his head onto the bar.

For a few seconds, he didn't move.

A woman sitting several stools behind him had been watching the entire performance.

She was beautiful in the polished, deliberate way that attracted attention in places like The Underground. Her dress hugged her figure, her makeup was flawless, and a faint smile played at the corner of her lips as she watched Cole destroy bottle after bottle.

She took another slow sip of her drink.

She waited.

Only when Cole appeared too drunk to stand straight did she finally rise.

Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she approached.

She stopped beside him and placed one delicate hand on his shoulder.

"Drinking alone?" she murmured.

She leaned closer, her lips near his ear.

"Doesn't that get a little lonely?"

Her breath brushed against his skin.

Cole's shoulder twitched.

The woman's smile widened.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

Cole slowly turned his head.

His eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of the blurred figure standing in front of him.

The lights seemed to be spinning.

The room tilted.

He blinked several times.

Nothing helped.

Then he gave a loud, undignified hiccup.

The woman laughed softly.

Cole reached out, caught her arm, and pulled her closer.

"Who..." He squinted at her. "Who are you?"

She leaned into his blurred field of vision.

"Who do you want me to be?"

Her voice was low and teasing.

"In a place like this, does it really matter?"

Cole stared at her.

For one fleeting second, his expression softened.

"I thought..." His voice cracked. "I thought you were Serena."

The softness disappeared.

His face twisted with pain.

"But she left."

A hollow laugh escaped him.

"She left me."

He shook his head as if he could physically shake away the memory.

"Serena..."

The woman studied him.

So that was what this was.

A man drunk enough to confuse a stranger with the woman who had broken his heart.

Interesting.

She slipped an arm around his shoulders and gently pulled his head against her chest.

"I'm Serena," she whispered.

Cole went still.

"I'm right here."

Exactly as she'd expected, the lie worked.

Alcohol had stripped away whatever judgment remained in him. It didn't matter who she was. He only needed to believe she was the woman he wanted.

"Serena..."

Cole said her name like a prayer.

He shifted closer, his forehead pressing against her.

"You're here."

The woman smiled.

"Of course I am."

His breathing grew heavier. He murmured things she couldn't quite make out, his words tangled together by bourbon.

She let him cling to the illusion.

After a moment, she reached for the bottle in his hand.

"Come on. You've had enough."

She took it from him and placed it on the bar.

"Let's go home."

Cole barely resisted.

The woman slipped one arm around his waist and tried to help him stand.

His full weight immediately collapsed against her.

She staggered.

"God..."

He was much heavier than he looked.

Still, she managed to steady him and guide him toward the exit.

Cole's head fell against her shoulder. His face brushed the side of her neck, and his warm breath sent an unexpected shiver through her.

She smiled.

Then, just as they reached the edge of the dance floor—

A strong arm suddenly hooked around Cole's shoulders.

The weight on her body vanished.

The woman stumbled back and looked up.

Another man had appeared beside them.

He was tall, composed, and strikingly handsome in a way completely different from Cole. Where Cole looked like a man who had been dragged through hell, this man looked as though hell itself wouldn't dare touch him.

Seth Zeller effortlessly shifted Cole's head onto his shoulder and secured an arm around his back.

"Miss," Seth said calmly, "do you actually know where he lives?"

The woman hesitated.

Seth glanced at Cole.

"Or should I take him from here?"

She opened her mouth to answer.

Cole suddenly stirred.

"Serena..."

The drunk man rubbed his face against Seth's shoulder.

Seth froze.

His expression darkened.

Cole's hand wandered across Seth's chest.

He frowned.

"Why..." Cole mumbled.

His fingers pressed experimentally against Seth's shirt.

"Why are you so flat?"

Seth's eyes closed for one long second.

He took a slow breath.

Of all the humiliating things he had expected to deal with tonight, this had not been one of them.

"Enough."

He caught Cole's wrists and pulled his hands away.

"Cole, you're drunk."

Cole looked up at him.

His eyes were unfocused.

Then he smiled.

"Serena."

Seth stared at him.

"Yes. Sure. I'm Serena."

Cole immediately relaxed against him.

Seth muttered under his breath.

"The Devil of Blackthorne..."

He shook his head.

"The man who can freeze an entire boardroom with one look."

He looked down at the drunken disaster hanging off his shoulder.

"And this is what you've become?"

Cole only smiled.

"Home..."

He tugged weakly at Seth's jacket.

"Take me home."

Seth sighed.

"Serena's waiting at home. We're going to find her."

That finally seemed to satisfy him.

Cole nodded like a child who had been promised something important.

"Home..."

Behind them, the woman who had tried to take Cole away had gone completely still.

She had heard the name.

Cole Hardwin.

She stared at the man she'd just been touching.

Everyone in Blackthorne knew who he was.

Cole Hardwin—the ruthless heir, the untouchable executive, the man whose reputation had earned him the nickname the Devil of Blackthorne.

She had actually managed to get this close to him.

For a moment, she couldn't decide whether she was thrilled or disappointed.

Unfortunately, it seemed she wouldn't be spending the night with him after all.

Cole tried to lift his head one more time.

His eyes struggled to focus on Seth.

"Serena..."

A foolish smile appeared on his lips.

"Let's go home."

Seth adjusted his grip and started toward the doors.

Cole stumbled beside him, almost entirely supported by Seth's strength.

Seth glanced at his friend and shook his head.

He had known Cole for years.

He had seen him tear apart negotiations without raising his voice. He had watched seasoned businessmen become nervous under a single glance.

But he'd never seen him like this.

Love had apparently found the one weakness Cole Hardwin couldn't defend against.

Seth sighed.

If Serena Haines didn't come back soon, he had a bad feeling Cole was going to make a habit of drowning himself in bourbon.

And Seth had a sinking suspicion that, when it came to love, women were nothing but trouble.

One disappearance was apparently enough to turn a man like Cole Hardwin into a complete wreck.

The smell of alcohol hit Hannah immediately, but she didn't step back.

Instead, she slipped beneath Cole's arm and helped support his weight.

“Easy,” Seth muttered. “He's heavier than he looks.”

Hannah tightened her grip.

“I've got him.”

Seth gave her a sideways glance.

“Of course you do.”

Together, they managed to get Cole into the house.

“Let's put him in the downstairs guest room,” Seth said. “He won't manage the stairs like this.”

It took several minutes and more effort than either of them wanted to admit, but eventually they got Cole onto the bed.

Seth straightened, loosened his tie, and walked into the adjoining sitting room for a glass of water.

Hannah immediately knelt beside the bed.

She carefully removed Cole's shoes, then his jacket.

His shirt was soaked and dirty. She hesitated when she reached the first button.

Her cheeks warmed.

She lowered her gaze.

She had seen him in form