His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 44

Olive’s POV

How do you describe the look on someone’s face when their entire world is about to collapse?

Because that’s what I saw on Walter’s face the second Zane’s car pulled into the driveway.

“God Fuck He’s here.” My father’s voice cracked, and suddenly He was clawing at the bandage on his knee, trying to rip it off.

“What are you doing?” Annie grabbed his hands. “Walter, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself-

“I need to appear strong,” he muttered, still fighting her grip. “Cart let him see me like this.”

I stared at them, my brain trying to process what I was watching For the past twenty minutes since I’d called Zane, Walter had been stress-baking-his go-to whenever something was seriously wrong. The kitchen smelled like vanilla and impending disaster.

“That’s not appearing strong.” I said, already moving toward the oor. “That’s appearing insane. And he’s here.”

“Don’t you dare open that door,” Walter hissed behind me.

“Too late.”

I pulled the door open.

Zane Mercer stood on my father’s porch like he’d materialized from every dark romance novel I’d ever read and refused to admit I’d enjoyed.

Gray suit pants that fit him like a sin, paired with a black button-down that he’d rolled up to his forearms. His tattoos were on full display-those foreign words I still hadn’t figured out, inked into his skin in elegant script. A gold watch caught the light on his wrist. And in his hands, he held a massive bouquet of red roses that looked almost obscene in how beautiful they were.

He stood there, tall and dangerous and completely at ease, like he owned not just this porch but the entire street.

“Hello, Muffin.” His voice was low, intimate, despite Annie and Walter probably hearing every word. “Say the word and I’ll take you out of here right now. We can disappear. Just you and me.”

My stomach flipped. “You wish.”

His mouth curved into that insufferable smirk, and I forced myself to look down at the flowers instead of at his face.

“These are for you,” he said, offering them.

“For me?” I took them, surprised by how heavy they were. How many roses were in this thing?

“I don’t see anyone else here worthy of them.”

I tried not to smile. Failed miserably. “Come in.”

The second we stepped inside, Annie practically launched herself at us.

“Oh my god, you’re Zane Mercer!” She was vibrating with excitement. “I’ve watched all your games. You’re incredible at what you do!”

She stuck out her hand and Zane shook it-polite, brief-then pulled away like she’d burned him.

That’s when I noticed it

Zane wasn’t looking at Annie. Wasn’t looking at the house or the pretentious décor or anything except one thing.

Walter.

And Walter was staring back.

The air between them felt thick, charged with something I couldn’t name. Recognition? Fear? Both?

“Hello. Zane.” Walter’s voice came out rough.

Zane’s expression went dark for just a second-something dangerous flickering behind his eyes-before smoothing back into that controlled mask he wore so well.

“Hello, Walter.”

My brain stuttered. “Walter? You two know each other?”

The answer was obvious from the way they were looking at each other. Some silent conversation happening that I wasn’t part of

Walter glanced around, checking if Annie was still in the room. She was, completely oblivious, still grinning like she’d met a celebrity.

Then he dropped it.

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