His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 72

72 /180

OLIVE’s POV

I followed Zane out of the conference room, my heels clicking against the polished floor, my heart hammering in my chest. because I had no idea if he was about to thank me or tear me apart for speaking up.

But honestly? I didn’t care.

I was probably going to be the one tearing him apart anyway for being Zane Fucking Mercer, king of arrogant assholes who thought they could steamroll everyone in their path.

He led me down the hallway, past curious stares from employees who were pretending not to watch but absolutely were. I could feel their eyes burning into my back, could practically hear the whispers that would start the second we were out of earshot.

‘Did you see that? Olive Monroe and Zane Mercer. Together. After everything.

We reached one of the smaller meeting rooms-the kind Hopkins used for private calls and confidential discussions-and Zane held the door open for me with that infuriating smirk still playing at his lips.

The second the door closed behind us, cutting us off from prying eyes and curious ears, he turned to face me.

“That was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid,” he said, his voice low and controlled but I could hear something else beneath it-surprise, maybe. Or respect. Hard to tell with him.

I crossed my arms over my chest, partly defensive, partly to stop myself from reaching for him. “Which do you think it was?”

His lips curved into that familiar smirk, the one that made me want to slap him and kiss him in equal measure. “Both.”

Then, before I could respond with something appropriately sarcastic, he closed the space between us and kissed me.

Not gentle. Not sweet. Hard and claiming and possessive in a way that made my knees go weak and my brain short-circuit.

His hands gripped my waist, fingers digging in just hard enough to leave an impression, pulling me flush against him until there wasn’t a molecule of space between our bodies.

And I melted into it.

Despite every rational thought screaming that we were in my stepfather’s office building. Despite knowing anyone could walk in. Despite the fact that I was supposed to be mad at him for the power play he’d just pulled in that conference room.

None of it mattered when he kissed me like this-like I was oxygen and he’d been drowning.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard, my lips swollen, my heart racing.

“You defended Hopkins,” he said, his voice rough now, unsteady in a way I’d never heard before. “Defended Grayson. Even after everything he’s said about me. About us.”