His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 25

OLIVE’s POV

My phone screen was dark. Still dark. Had been dark for three days straight except for the notifications I actually didn’t want.

I pressed the power button again just to make sure, watching the time flash: 6:47 PM. The battery icon mocked me at ninety- three percent. Fully charged. Fully functional. Fully silent from the one person I’d been waiting to hear from.

Zane hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t sent a single word since I’d run out of his mansion like some teenager caught breaking curfew, my legs still shaking and his taste still on my tongue.

God. I was pathetic.

I dropped the phone on the hotel bed and pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the spiral I’d been in since that night. But it just kept playing on repeat-the closet, his hands, his mouth, the way he’d whispered “Muffin” like it was a secret between us. And then nothing. Radio silence. Like I was just another girl he’d fucked in his pantry and forgotten about by morning.

Maybe that’s all I was.

The thought made my stomach twist. I grabbed my phone again scrolling through our texts out of pure masochism. The last message was from me, sent two hours after I’d left his place:

Me: Thank you for tonight.

I’d deleted and retyped it six times before sending. Too formal? Too clingy? Should I have added something flirty, or would that make me seem desperate?

He’d read it. The little checkmarks told me that much. But he never responded.

Three days. Seventy-two hours of me checking my phone every fifteen minutes like some obsessed ex-girlfriend, which was ironic considering I actually was someone’s obsessed ex-girlfriend-just not Zane’s.

My phone buzzed and I lunged for it, heart hammering.

Ryan: Tonight’s the night, sweetheart. Hope you’re ready to pay up.

I wanted to throw the phone across the room.

Ryan. The bet. The stupid, humiliating, skin-crawling bet that I’d somehow gotten myself trapped in because I was too proud to just tell him to fuck off when I had the chance. Three days to get Zane to kiss me publicly or become Ryan’s… what? Property? Sex toy? The terms had been vague but the intention was crystal clear.

And tonight was the deadline.

Another buzz.

Ryan: Wear something nice. I want to show off my new prize.

But I picked up the dress anyway, because fighting with my mon took more energy than I had. “Fine. Thirty minutes.”

She smiled like she’d won something. “That’s my girl. And Olive She paused at the door. “Try to have fun tonight. Maybe talk to some of Hunter’s teammates. You never know-you might meet someone nice.”

The door closed behind her and I let out a bitter laugh. Someone nice. Sure. Because that had worked out so well for me before.

I forced myself off the bed and into the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as it would go. The steam filled the large space and I stripped down, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror before I stepped under the water. There were faint bruises on my hips from where Zane had gripped me, holding me steady while he-

Nope. Not going there.

I scrubbed my skin until it was pink and raw, like I could wash away the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he’d made me feel like I was the only person in the world who mattered. It didn’t work. It never worked.

By the time I got out, my phone had five more notifications. I wrapped a towel around myself and checked them, hoping against hope that one was from Zane.

None of them were.

All five were from Instagram. From an account I recognized immediately: