His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 42

Olive’s POV

“What?”

I was still standing in the hallway, phone pressed to my car, the world tilting sideways.

“You need to come here, Olive.” Annie’s voice was tight, urgent. He really needs to see you.”

“How bad is it?” My hands were shaking. Actually shaking.

“I can’t really explain over the phone. Just… please come.”

The line went dead.

“What’s going on?” Brenda grabbed my arm, eyes wide with concern.

I stared at her, trying to hold it together, but the worry must have been written all over my face because her expression shifted from curious to alarmed.

“Walter had an accident. Annie said it’s serious. I need to go. Now” I was already gathering my things, shoving papers into my bag. “Please, can you cover for me? Tell them I had an emergency—”

“Girl, go.” Brenda pushed me toward the elevator. “Don’t even think twice. Go see your dad.”

I hugged her-quick, grateful-and ran.

The house looked exactly how I remembered it.

Mid-sized mansion with pristine landscaping, a fountain in the front yard perfectly manicured grass that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread. This was where my father had built his new life. His perfect life. The one that didn’t include it.

I sat in my car for a second, hands gripping the steering wheel, staring at the house that should have been partly mine but never was.

How had both my parents moved on so easily? Like the divorce was just a minor inconvenience. Like I hadn’t lost my entire family in the process. My brother…

“Stop it,” I whispered to myself. “Not now.”

Walter could be paralyzed. Or worse. This wasn’t the time to spiral about the past.

I got out of the car and walked toward the massive oak door, my heart hammering against my ribs with every step.

The door swung open before I could knock.

Walter Monroe.

Perfectly fine. Whisking batter in a mixing bowl like some domestic god, standing on both legs, not a scratch on him except for a bandage wrapped around one knee. His tattoos-the ones that covered both arms in intricate black ink-were on full display under his rolled-up sleeves.

Hair spiked back the way he’d always worn it, the same style that had made my mom fall for him twenty-five years ago and apparently worked on Annie too.

He didn’t even turn around.

“Well, if it isn’t my beautiful, newly famous daughter,” he said casually, still whisking.

I stood there, frozen, while my brain tried to catch up with what was seeing.

“Olive. I’m so sorry.” Annie appeared beside me, wringing her hands. “He made me do it. I swear it wasn’t my idea. He said you weren’t answering his calls and-”

“You made me leave work,” I said, voice dangerously quiet, “for a fucking prank?”

It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation. The kind that said if someone didn’t start explaining in the next five seconds, I was going to burn this entire house down.

“Hey, peach.” Walter finally turned around, that stupid grin on his face. “Don’t be dramatic. You haven’t been picking up my calls. You ignored all my messages. You didn’t even show up to the twins’ graduation party last week. They missed you.”