His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 143

Olive’s POV

I’d barely had time to process Nikolai’s text when the knock came.

Three sharp raps that made my heart jump into my throat.

He was here.

Zane was here, standing outside my door, and I had maybe five seconds to decide what the hell I was going to do about it.

I’d spent the last thirty minutes pacing my apartment, still in the dress I’d worn for Judy, trying to figure out what to say when this moment came.

Trying to figure out how to explain why I’d been avoiding him for God knows how long. Why I hadn’t called to thank him for saving Grayson’s company. Why I’d sat through that entire presentation while he tore me apart and hadn’t said a single word.

Why I’d gone on a date with another man when I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

And about whatever lie Judy had pulled off, because it was impossible to believe.

But now that he was actually here, every coherent thought I’d managed to string together evaporated.

My hand shook as I reached for the doorknob.

Maybe I shouldn’t open it. Maybe I should pretend I wasn’t home, let him knock until he gave up and left.

Except Zane Mercer didn’t give up. Ever.

And avoiding him would only make this worse.

I took a breath and opened the door.

Just a crack at first, enough to see him but not enough to let him in.

And oh god.

He looked like hell.

His hair was damp, pushed back from his face in a way that suggested he’d run his hands through it about a hundred times. He was wearing a black t-shirt that clung to his chest, dark jeans, and nothing else-no jacket despite the cold, no concern for looking put together.

But it was his face that made my breath catch.

Cold. Furious. Those blue eyes I’d been trying not to think about for almost two weeks now locked on mine with an intensity that made me want to step back.

Except I couldn’t step back because I was frozen, trapped between the desperate urge to throw myself at him and the survival instinct screaming at me to slam the door in his face and run.

“Zane-“I started, but I didn’t get to finish.

He pushed the door open-not violently, not aggressively, just with enough force that I had to stumble backward to avoid getting hit-and stepped inside my apartment like he owned it.

Like he owned me.

The door clicked shut behind him with a controlled precision that was somehow more terrifying than if he’d slammed it.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, and my voice came out shakier than I wanted it to.

He didn’t answer right away.

Just stood there, taking up all the space in my tiny entryway, looking at me like he was trying to decide whether to kiss me or destroy me.

Maybe both.

“We need to talk,” he said finally, and his voice was low. Dangerous.

“It’s late-”

“I don’t give a fuck what time it is.” The words came out sharp enough to cut. “You’ve been ignoring me for how long now…two weeks. You don’t get to use ‘it’s late’ as an excuse now.”

He was right. I knew he was right.

But having him here, in my space, looking at me like that-it was too much too fast and I couldn’t think straight.

“How did you even know I was home?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

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