His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 150

Olive’s POV

“Her attorney will be here shortly,” Zane said, completely ignoring the question. “We’d like to wait for him before she answers any questions.”

The officer’s expression shifted to something that might have been annoyance.

“Detective Harrison just wants to ask Miss Monroe a few questions-”

“Which she’ll be happy to answer once her legal representation rives,” Zane interrupted smoothly. “Unless you’d prefer we leave and reschedule for a time when our attorney is available?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge,

The officer stared at Zane for a long moment, clearly trying to decide if this was a battle worth fighting.

“Have a seat,” he finally said, jerking his head toward the plastic chairs. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

We sat down, and I realized my hands were shaking.

Zane noticed immediately. He took my hand again, his thumb stroking across my knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

“Breathe,” he said quietly.

I tried. Pulled air into my lungs and pushed it back out. But it fell wrong. Too shallow. Like I couldn’t get enough oxygen.

“Olive.” His other hand came up to tilt my face toward him.””Look at me.”

I met his eyes.

“You’re okay,” he said firmly. “You’re going to walk in there, answer their questions honestly, and walk back out. That’s it. They have nothing on you because there’s nothing to have.”

“But what if-”

“No what-ifs.” His jaw was set. Determined. “We deal with what is not what might be.”

The door to the station opened, and a man in an expensive suit walked in.

He was older, maybe mid-fifties, with silver hair and the kind of face that suggested he’d spent decades in courtrooms destroying people’s cases.

“Mr. Mercer,” he said, walking straight to us. “Miss Monroe.”

“Richard.” Zane stood, shaking the lawyer’s hand. “Thanks for coming on short notice.”

“Of course,” Richard turned to me, his expression professional but not unkind. “I’m Richard Davis. I’ll be representing you today. Before we go in there, I need you to tell me everything that happened last night. Don’t leave anything out.”

I glanced at Zane,

He nodded once. Permission.

So I told Richard everything. The blind date my mother had set up. The dinner at Luiz de Vont. The conversation about Klaus. The way Judy had said things that made me uncomfortable. How I’d left upset and driven home.

Richard listened without interrupting, his expression giving away nothing.

When I finished, he was quiet for a moment.

“Did anyone else see you leave?” he asked.

“The restaurant staff. The valet. I gave my keys to the valet attendant when I arrived.”

“Good. That establishes a timeline.” He pulled out a notebook and started writing. “What time did you leave?”

“Around eight-thirty. Maybe a little later.”

“And you drove straight home?”

I hesitated.

That’s when I’d encountered Nikolai in the parking garage.

Should I mention that? Would it help or hurt?

“Miss Monroe?” Richard prompted.

“I went to the parking garage,” I said carefully. “There was someone there. A man named Nikolai. He works for Mr. Mercer. We spoke briefly, and then I drove home.”

Richard’s eyes flicked to Zane.

Zane’s expression was unreadable.

“Nikolai can verify she left when she said she did,” Zane said. “And that she was upset but unharmed.”

Richard nodded slowly. “That’s actually helpful. Gives us a witness to your state of mind and establishes you left the area well before the time of death.”

“Do we know when he died?” I asked.

“The detective will tell us when we go in,” Richard said. “But based on the fact that they called you this early, I’m guessing it was sometime late last night or early this morning.”

My stomach twisted.

While I’d been at home having makeup sex with Zane, Judy Byron had been dying.

“Miss Monroe.”

A detective had appeared-tall, Black, probably in his forties, with tired eyes that suggested he’d seen too much.

“I’m Detective Harrison. Thank you for coming in. If you’ll follow me?”

Richard stood immediately. “Richard Davis, Miss Monroe’s attorney. She’s prepared to answer your questions.”

Detective Harrison’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he nodded.

“Right this way,”

We followed him through a maze of corridors to a small room with a table and four chairs.

Interview room. Interrogation room. Whatever they wanted to ill it.

I sat down, Richard on one side, Zane on the other.

Detective Harrison settled into the chair across from me and pulled out a recorder.

“This interview is being recorded,” he said. “Miss Monroe, do you consent to this recording?”

I looked at Richard.

He nodded.

“Yes,” I said.

“No. Like I said, I hadn’t seen him in five years until last night.”

Detective Harrison leaned back in his chair, studying me.

“Miss Monroe, Mr. Byron was found dead in his hotel room at approximately three AM this morning. Preliminary findings suggest foul play.”

Foul play.

Not a heart attack. Not an accident.

Someone had killed him.

“The security footage from Luiz de Vont shows you leaving the restaurant at nine forty-three PM, visibly upset. You were one of the last people to see Mr. Byron alive. Can you think of any reason why someone would want him dead?”

I shook my head, my heart pounding. “No. I barely knew him.”

“But you knew him well enough to go to dinner with him.”

“My mother set it up,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice. went because she asked me to. I didn’t even there.”

“Then why did you stay for nearly two hours?”

“Because I was trying to be polite!” The words came out sharper than I intended. “Because my mother had gone to the trouble of setting it up and I didn’t want to be rude.”

Richard’s hand on my arm tightened slightly. A warning to stay calm.

I took a breath.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is just a lot to process. I had dinner with someone I used to know, and now he’s dead. And you’re treating me like I had something to do with it,”

“I’m not treating you like anything, Miss Monroe,” Detective Harison said evenly. “I’m gathering information. Trying to build a timeline of Mr. Byron’s last hours.”

“Then let me be clear,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I went to dinner We talked. I left. I went home. That’s it. I didn’t see him again. I didn’t hurt him. And I have no idea who did.”

Detective Harrison studied me for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Monroe. If we have addional questions, we’ll be in touch.”.

He stood, effectively ending the interview.

Richard stood as well, and I followed his lead on shaking legs.

“My client is happy to cooperate with your investigation,” Richa said smoothly. “But any future questions should go through me first.”

“Understood.”

We walked out of that room, down the corridor, through the lobby, and out into the parking lot before I allowed myself to breathe.

The second we were outside, my knees gave out.

Zane caught me before I hit the ground, his arms wrapping around me and holding me upright.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against my hair. “I’ve got you.”

And for the first time since that phone call, I let myself break.