His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 138

Olive’s POV

Two days had passed since my mother ambushed me with her bind date scheme.

Two days of her texting me reminders about Saturday night. The days of her sending me links to articles about Judy Byron’s steel company.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, makeup half done, wondering for the hundredth time why I’d agreed to this

My phone buzzed on the counter.

A call from an unknown number.

I almost sent it to voicemail-I’d been getting too many strange calls lately, too many moments where I felt like someone was watching me-but something made me answer.

“Hello?”

“Olive? The voice was male, unfamiliar, and confident. “It’s Judy Judy Byron.”

My stomach did a weird flip that had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with nerves.

“Hi,” I managed, trying to sound normal instead of like someone who was actively dreading this entire evening.

“I just wanted to confirm our reservation for tonight,” he said, and his voice was different than I remembered. Deeper. More polished. The voice of someone who’d spent years learning how to command attention. “Eight o’clock at Luiz de Vont. I’m looking forward to seeing you again after all these years.”

“Me too.” I lied smoothly, because what else was I supposed to say?

“Great. I’ll see you tonight then

He hung up before I could respond.

I set my phone down and stared at myself in the mirror again.

I looked put together. Professional. The kind of woman who had her life figured out and definitely wasn’t spiraling over a man she’d been avoiding for over almost two weeks.

The lie was convincing from the outside.

From the inside, I was a mess.

I finished my makeup, grabbed my purse, and headed out before I could talk myself out of going.

The drive to the restaurant felt surreal.

Like I was watching myself from outside my body, observing some other version of Olive Monroe who made sensible decisions and went on normal dates with age-appropriate men who had stable careers and didn’t come with dangerous baggage.

Luiz de Vont was located in the most exclusive part of downtown-the kind of neighborhood where every building looked like it cost more than most people would earn in a lifetime.

I’d heard of the restaurant before. Everyone had. It was legendary for being impossible to get into, the kind of place celebrities went when they wanted privacy and politicians went when they wanted to conduct business away from prying eyes.

When Judy had texted me the location, I’d been stunned. Booking a reservation at Luiz de Vont required at least three months’ advance notice.

But he’d done it in less than three days.

I’d been tempted to research him. Find out what he looked like now, what his company did, how he’d gone from the carefree guy I remembered to someone who could pull strings like this.

But I’d restrained myself.

I wanted to feel the element of surprise. Keep him mysterious.

Maybe somehow-I’d actually be interested in him.

Zane’s face flashed in my head. That cold, agonizing smirk that said I was only deceiving myself.

I took a deep breath and pushed the thought away.

I wasn’t going to let him get into my head. Not tonight.

I opened the car door, letting the cold evening air wash over me and walked toward the entrance.

The restaurant was even more impressive inside. Gold ceilings with massive crystal chandeliers cast warm light across marble floors. Everything screamed wealth and exclusivity.

A maître d’ approached me immediately, bowing slightly.

“You are Miss Monroe, yes?” he asked in a smooth Italian accent.

I nodded.

“Excellent. Please, let me escort you to your table. Mr. Byron is waiting for you.”

He led me through the main dining area and toward a door marked “VIP.”

My heart was pounding as we walked through it.

The private room was stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A table set for two with candles and fresh flowers.

And standing by the window, looking out at the skyline, was Judy Byron.

He turned when he heard the door close.

And I had to consciously keep my expression neutral.

Five years ago, Judy Byron had been attractive in that lean, boyish way. Charming but unpolished.

The man standing in front of me now was completely different.

He was dressed in an impeccable chocolate-brown suit that fit him perfectly. His hair was styled, his posture confident. He looked like he’d transformed from youth into something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Not dangerous like Zane-not that predatory, violent edge.

But dangerous in the way powerful men were dangerous. The kid who could destroy you with a phone call and a signature.

And yet his smile was warm. Genuine.

Still that same rough smile I remembered from years ago.

“Hello, Olive,” he said, his voice deeper than I remembered. “It’s ice seeing you again.”

I forced myself to smile back.

“Hi, Judy.”

He walked toward me, and I realized just how tall he’d gotten. I felt like an ant standing next to him.

A Ferrari parked next to a skyscraper.

“It’s been ages,” he said, stopping in front of me. “And it seems a lot has changed.”

I nodded. “Really.”

He looked around the room, hands sliding into his pockets in a casual gesture that somehow made him look even more put- together.

“I’m not the one who totally forgot about me,” he said, and there was a hint of teasing in his voice.

I bit the inside of my lip, trying not to remember what had made me delete his number. Block him. Not unblock him until two years later when enough time had passed that it didn’t matter anymore.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Let’s sit.”

He pulled out my chair like a gentleman, and I sat down.

The table had a bottle of wine already opened, two glasses waiting.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Judy said, reaching beside the table. “I got you something. I remember how much you loved these. I don’t know if that’s changed over time.”

He pulled out a bouquet of flowers.

Pink peonies.

My breath caught.

He still remembered.

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