His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 27

OLIVE’s POV

Zane’s voice drummed across the room, in a deep and controlled manner, the kind of voice that made people shut up and listen whether they wanted to or not. I kept my eyes on my phone, pretending I wasn’t hanging on every word.

“…success isn’t about talent,” he was saying. “It’s about knowing what you want and taking it. No apologies. No hesitation.”

My throat went dry.

“Some people spend their whole lives waiting for permission to go after what they want. Waiting for someone to tell them they’re good enough, strong enough, worthy enough.” A pause. hose people lose.”

I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t look up. Couldn’t. If I locked at him now I’d either fall apart or do something stupid, and I couldn’t afford either.

“The ones who win are the ones who stop asking and start taking Who don’t let anyone-not family, not rivals, not even themselves-stand in their way.”

The room erupted in applause, and I finally glanced up. He was stepping away from the microphone, his expression neutral, but there was something in the set of his jaw that made my pulse spike. Like he’d just declared war and no one else had noticed.

My mom leaned over. “He’s intense.”

“Yeah.” I shoved my phone back in my clutch. “Intense” was one word for it. “Terrifying” was another.

The music picked up again, something jazzy and forgettable, and people started moving toward the dance floor or the bar. I stayed in my seat, trying to make myself as small as possible, hoping Ryan would forget about me or get distracted by the blonde he’d been talking to earlier.

No such luck.

“Olive.” My mom’s voice was too bright, too hopeful.

“Why

don’t you go mingle? You’re just sitting here.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hiding.” She stood up, smoothing down her dress. “Come on. There are plenty of nice young men here. That one I pointed out earlier-”

“Mom, I really don’t-”

But she was already walking away, heading toward Grayson at another table, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts and the very real possibility that I was about to become Ryan’s prize.

I needed air. Or a drink. Or both.

I stood up, scanning the room for the quickest exit, and that’s when I saw him.

Ryan.

He was moving through the crowd toward me, that cocky smirk plastered on his face, and every instinct I had screamed at me to run. But I couldn’t. Not without causing a scene, not without everyone asking questions I didn’t want to answer.

He reached me before I could move. “There she is. Thought you might try to skip out on me.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” My voice came out sharper than I meant it to

“You are.” His eyes dragged down my body, slow and deliberate. And you look good enough to eat.”

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