His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 89

Olive’s POV

The club was massive, with a tall glass building and lights and bodies pressed together at every corner, and Brenda was. losing her mind the second we stepped out of the garage.

This is insane. she said, practically bouncing on her heels as she stared at my new car. “This is very insane, Olive. This car is beautiful Like, what the hell did you do to Zane to be able to go you this car?”

I rolled my eyes. “Brenda, do you want me to spend the entire night talking about this vehicle?”

Girl, you have to tell me everything,” she insisted, grabbing my arm. “Because I have some theories about what you did to get a car like this, and they’re all very scandalous.”

“Fine, fine.” I said, laughing despite myself. “I’ll tell you everything later. But right now, we’re going to have fun and you’re going to stop interrogating me about my sex life.”

“Deal,” she said, grinning. “But I’m holding you to that.”

The second we stepped out of the car, I noticed people staring. A lot of people. Girls mostly, their eyes tracking us-well, tracking the car-with expressions that ranged from impressed jealous to confused.

I could hear the whispers, could feel their eyes on me, trying to figure out who I was and how I could afford a car like this. And of course they were confused-I wasn’t a celebrity, wasn’t anyone important, just some girl who happened to be dating a hockey star. But thanks to Vanessa posting forty fucking videos of my car online, half the city probably knew about it by now

I decided to ignore them, holding my head high as we walked toward the entrance.

The VIP card Brenda had gotten meant we didn’t have to wait in the ridiculously long line, just walked straight past everyone to the door. The bouncer barely glanced at us before waving us through, and then we were inside and the music hit through every nerve in me.

Loud. So fucking loud. Lights flashing from different places, different colors, blue, purple, red-strobing across the packed dance floor. Bodies everywhere, moving, grinding, drinks in hands.

“Let’s go to the VIP section!” Brenda screamed over the music, grabbing my hand.

I nodded, following her through the crowd, and I could feel more eyes on me-on my dress, on the way I moved-people clearly trying to figure out if I belonged in the VIP lounge. My dress was expensive, designer, the kind of thing that screamed money, and I knew I looked good. Zane had made sur of that.

“Come on, let’s go dance!” Brenda said once we’d settled into the VIP section, already pulling me toward the dance floor before I could protest.

“I don’t know if I can dance to this,” I said, laughing as she dragged me along.

Just follow my lead!” she shouted back.

So I did Let myself get lost in the music, in the movement, in the feeling of just existing without thinking about Zane or the new guy-Alonso-or any of the complicated mess my life had come.

We danced until we were both sweating, breathless, laughing soard my stomach hurt. Then we stumbled back to the VIP section and Brenda immediately ordered drinks, expensive ones the kind that came in fancy glasses with even fancier names

To you, Brenda said, raising her glass. “To new cars and new me and new lives.”

To not fucking everything up. I added, clinking my glass against hers

“You’re not going to fuck anything up.” she said seriously. “You’re doing amazing. Better than amazing. You’re thriving

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