His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 115: Zane's Pov

I didn't ask why. Didn't ask questions. I should have, but I couldn't bring myself to care about the reasons.

"I'll come pick you up," I said, already pulling up the number.

"No." Her voice was firmer now. "Send your driver. Don't come yourself. Please."

That stung more than it should have. But I agreed anyway.

"Okay. He'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you."

She hung up before I could say anything else.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the phone in my hand, trying to process what just happened.

She was coming here. To me.

After everything that had happened this morning. After she'd kicked me out. After I'd said things I couldn't take back.

She was coming here.

I sent the driver immediately, then went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I looked like hell. Dark circles under my eyes. Jaw tight. Hair a mess.

I didn't care.

Twenty-five minutes later, I heard the front door open.

I was standing at the staircase in the living room, hands shoved in my pockets, trying to look casual. Trying not to look like I'd been pacing for the last ten minutes.

She walked in, and I forgot how to breathe.

She looked exhausted. Worn down. Her shoulders were tense, her face pale. But there was something else in her expression too. Something hard. Determined.

She didn't look at me right away. Just stood there in the middle of my living room, her hands clenched at her sides.

I stayed where I was, leaning against the wall near the staircase, watching her. Waiting.

"My step father’s company’s falling,” She said finally, her voice low but steady.

I knew what this was about. She'd heard about her stepfather's company. About the hostile takeover. About everything crumbling around him.

And she'd come to me.

I should've felt victorious. Should've felt smug. But all I felt was this strange ache in my chest.

Olive wasn't the kind of person who asked for help. She was proud. Stubborn. Strong. She'd rather break than bend.

But here she was. Standing in my living room. And from the look on her face, she was barely holding it together.

"Someone's attacking Hopkins Enterprise," she said, her voice getting stronger now, more controlled. "Buying up shares. Sending emails. Tanking the stock. And I know it's your father."

I didn't say anything. Just watched her.

"I need you to stop him," she continued, taking a step closer. "I don't care how you do it. Use whatever leverage you have. Whatever connections. Whatever power. Just stop him from taking Hopkins Enterprise."

Her eyes were blazing now. Furious. Desperate.

And fuck, she was beautiful like this. Even angry. Even hurting.

"And what do I get in return?" I asked quietly, pushing off the wall.

She flinched slightly, but didn't back down. "I'll finish out the two months. No more fighting. No more questions. I'll be whatever you need me to be. And then we're done."

The words hit harder than I expected. Clean break. No mess. Like we were nothing.

"Deal," I said, even though every part of me wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her this was more than an arrangement. That she was more.

But I didn't.

We stood there, staring at each other, and I could feel the tension crackling between us.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"No," she said. "There's one more condition. No sex. Not until this is resolved. This stays professional."

Something dark twisted in my chest. "No."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I said no," I repeated, taking a step toward her. "You don't get to walk in here, make demands, and then tell me I can't have you."

"That's exactly how this works," she said, but I could see her pulse racing in her throat.

We argued. Back and forth. Both of us too stubborn to back down.

Until finally, something shifted in her expression.

"Fine," I said, the word bitter in my mouth. "No sex until Hopkins is safe."

She turned toward the door, and I thought she was leaving.

But then she stopped.

Turned around.

And the look on her face made my heart stop.

"Actually," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Fuck the rules."

She threw her bag down with a loud thud, and then she was walking toward me, her eyes dark with something that looked like anger and need all tangled together.

Before I could process what was happening, she pushed me.

Hard.

I stumbled backward into the leather armchair behind me, landing with a surprised grunt.

"Olive, what—"

She straddled me before I could finish, her hands fisting in my hair, her mouth crashing against mine.

I froze for half a second before kissing her back just as desperately, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

This wasn't soft. Wasn't gentle.

This was anger and hurt and need all mixed together in something explosive.

"I thought you said no sex," I gasped when she pulled back to breathe.

"I changed my mind," she said, grinding down against me, and I was already hard beneath her. "You want to treat this like a game? Fine. Let's play."

My eyes darkened. "Olive—"

"Shut up," she said, kissing me again, harder this time.

And for once, I did exactly what I was told.

The night blurred after that. Her clothes on the floor. My hands on her skin. Her nails down my back.

We moved from the chair to the couch to the wall to finally my bed, and by the time the sun started creeping through the curtains, we were both exhausted and spent.

She fell asleep in my arms, her breathing evening out, her body soft against mine.

I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling.

On Monday, the news would be everywhere. My father's scandals exposed. His company in free fall. The Hopkins buyout dead in the water.

The world would see exactly what I was capable of.

And maybe, just maybe, she'd finally understand that I'd already taken care of everything.

That I'd been three steps ahead this entire time.

I pulled her closer, pressing my face into her hair, breathing her in.

One month left.

I was going to make every second count.