His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 212
Zane’s POV
Olive continued, her voice staying perfectly professional even though I could see the slight tension in her jaw, “we designed a collection that bridges athletic performance with high fashion. The pieces incorporate the same sensor technology but with a more refined aesthetic that positions her as the face of Quantum Al’s expansion into women’s athletic markets.”
She showed Elena’s designs-sleek black with silver threading, fitted and powerful while still maintaining femininity, and I watched Elena lean forward with obvious approval.
“In terms of supporting roles,” Olive said, clicking to a new slide, “Sophia Mercer and Stephanie will be handling artistic direction and styling for all four models.”
“Sophia Mercer and Stephanie will handle artistic direction and styling,” Olive continued. “Jessica and I will manage logistics and coordination. The photoshoot will take place over three days next week at locations around Seattle.”
She clicked off the presentation and returned to her seat and Antonio immediately leaned toward her and said, “That was exceptional. The level of strategic thinking there, the attention to detail-you’re really talented, Olive.”
His hand moved to her shoulder as he said it and I watched Olive try to shift away without being obvious and something inside me snapped.
“Antonio,” I said, my voice sharp enough to cut, “I think Olive prefers personal space during professional meetings.”
He removed his hand but smiled at me like I’d just proved his point.
“Of course,” he said. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, Olive… or perhaps Zane.”
He said, winkling at me.
Fucking Brute. I thought, my hands clenched together.
Nina cleared her throat and moved the meeting forward but I could barely focus because Cole was raising his hand with that expression that told me he was about to cause problems.
“I’m curious about the decision to position the campaign around human instinct versus AI calculation,” Cole said, looking directly at Olive. “Doesn’t that create natural tension in the messaging?”
It was a decent question but I knew he was asking it to undermine her, to make her look unprepared.
Before Olive could respond Antonio jumped in with, “I think that’s actually the brilliance of it. The tension is the point. We’re living in an era where people are both fascinated by and afraid of technology.”
He looked at Olive and smiled. “That’s what you were going for, right? Embracing the paradox rather than trying to resolve it?
And I watched Olive nod reluctantly because Antonio was actually right even though she didn’t want to agree with him.
“But doesn’t that risk alienating the traditionalists?” Cole pressed, clearly not satisfied. “The hockey fans who think the sport is being ruined by technology?”
“Those people exist, Olive said carefully, “but they’re not our target demographic.”
“And what about the athletes who see this as cheating?” Cole continued his interrogation.
“Actually,” I cut in before he could keep going, “that’s not a messaging problem. That’s a market segmentation issue. We’re not trying to convert everyone. We’re identifying the segment that’s already open to innovation.”
I looked directly at Cole when I said it, making it clear I knew exactly what he was doing.
“The purists will complain regardless of how we position it,” I continued. “So we ignore them and focus on the athletes and fans who are excited about the future rather than clinging to the past.”
Cole’s expression darkened because I’d just called him out without actually calling him out.
“Well said,” Antonio chimed in and I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up because I didn’t need his validation.
“Though I do think there’s value in acknowledging the concerns,” Antonio continued, turning back to Olive. “What do you think? Could we work that angle?”
His hand moved toward hers on the table and I watched her notice and pull away.
“We could,” Olive said, “but I’d be cautious about seeming defensive. The strongest campaigns commit to their core message fully.”
“Confident,” Antonio said with obvious approval. “I like that.”
“If there are no other questions,” Nina said, clearly ready to end this before things got worse, “I think we can adjourn.”
People started gathering their things and I watched Antonio lean toward Olive one more time and say something that made her face flush.
And then Elena stood up and moved toward me with that calculated smile.
“Zane,” she said, her voice warm and familiar in a way that made my skin crawl, “I was hoping we could discuss the photoshoot plans. Maybe over lunch? There’s this new place downtown that just opened. They have that smoked salmon dish you’ve always been obsessed with.”
She said it casually but the reference was deliberate, designed to remind everyone-especially Olive-that she knew my preferences, knew intimate details about me from years of history.
And I watched Olive’s face when Elena said it, watched the way something in her expression crumpled slightly, watched her realize how much Elena knew that she didn’t, watched the hurt flash across her features before she tried to hide it.
And that’s what made me snap.
Not Antonio’s touching.
Not Cole’s interrogation.
But seeing Olive hurt by Elena’s calculated reminder that she’d known me longer, known me in ways that Olive was still discovering.
I stood up abruptly and the movement was sharp enough that everyone’s attention snapped to me, and I didn’t care about professional appearances anymore, didn’t care about what Nina or Sophia or anyone else thought.
I walked around the table with deliberate strides, moving past Antonio who was still sitting too close to where Olive had been, past Cole who was watching with that smug expression, straight toward where Olive was gathering her things with shaking hands.
“Miss Monroe,” I said, and my voice came out commanding, possessive, leaving absolutely no room for argument or question.
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