His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 10

Olive’s POV

I stared at my phone screen.

Really hard.

Really, really hard.

Staring at the number of times Zane’s name had flashed across

Twelve calls.

Twelve fucking calls I’d made in the last hour.

And he’d let every single one ring through to voicemail.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Sharp. Bitter.

He knew.

He had to know about the bet. Had Ryan told him just to make this harder?

I shook my head. No. Ryan couldn’t have. He wouldn’t risk losing his prize by warning Zane.

But something sharp tugged in my gut.

Ryan was a bastard. He’d do anything to win. He wouldn’t just stand back and watch from the sidelines.

“Fuck you, Zane,” I hissed, standing up from where I’d been sitting for the past twenty minutes, staring at my phone like it would magically make him answer.

I looked at myself in the vanity mirror.

Today was the day. Hunter’s first big match. And Brenda had made sure I was wearing one of the outfits she’d handpicked.

“You need to look cute,” she’d said over video call last night. “But hot regular cute. Killer cute. Make-heads-turn cute.”

After almost an hour of her bossing me around through FaceTime, we’d settled on this: an oversized black sweater with little gold star details scattered across it. Soft. Fell off one shoulder. Hi mid-thigh.

Paired with black boots that went all the way over my knees and made my legs look longer than they actually were.

Simple jewelry. Hair blown out and straightened-courtesy of Brenda’s instructions at six in the morning.

And finally, a soft pink lip gloss.

I stared at myself.

I looked… different.

Not disheveled, which was usually my signature look. But different. Put together. Like I was trying to get someone’s

attention.

“Fine.” My mother grabbed her purse, still glaring at Grayson. “It time. Let’s go. We have front-row seats.”

Grayson was already trying to make it up to her as we headed our

Sometimes I wondered how he handled all her chaos.

The second we stepped into the hotel lobby, it was packed.

Hockey players hugging their families. Cameras flashing. Fans swarming for autographs and selfies.

I rolled my eyes and walked behind my parents.

But I had a mission.

My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a particular pair of blue eyes, ignoring the looks from random guys who couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves.

“Olive.”

I froze.

That voice.

I knew that voice.

How could I not?