His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 138: Olive's Pov

"Oh, isn't he the second son of the Mercer family?" Jessica asked, her voice perking up with interest. "Antonio Mercer?"

I nodded, glancing down at Antonio's image.

He had a great form. Athletic. Charming. That easy smile that probably made sponsors fall over themselves to work with him.

But he wasn't Zane.

Fuck, Olive. Stop the comparisons.

"He looks amazing," Jessica continued, and I caught the slight dreamy quality to her voice. "He'd be perfect for this campaign. Plus, he's already been selected as one of the main candidates, right? I wonder when he'll be here for his assessment."

I raised my head to look at her, my eyes narrowing slightly.

"We don't have information regarding his arrival yet," I said. "But it should be soon. I'll check with Nina."

Jessica's face lit up immediately. "Really? Oh my... I sound so embarrassing."

She laughed nervously, and I forced myself to smile.

"You're fine," I said.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Jessica added. "I received confirmation that Mr. Zane Mercer will be arriving soon. Within the next thirty minutes, actually. His assistant just confirmed. Have you been able to pull together the assessment materials? I heard it's quite difficult working with him."

My heart stopped for a second before resuming at double speed.

Thirty minutes.

He'd be here in thirty minutes.

"Alright," I managed, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears. "Let me start preparing before he arrives."

Jessica nodded, her eyes drifting back to Antonio's magazine one more time before she walked out briskly.

I watched her leave, not failing to notice the happy skip in her steps.

Great. Jessica had a crush on Antonio.

That would be... interesting to navigate.

I turned back to the magazines on my desk.

Antonio's image stared up at me with that same familiar smirk. Those same Mercer eyebrows that looked slightly like Zane's.

"Antonio," I muttered. "You seem to have acquired an admirer."

I chuckled despite myself, my hand moving to push that magazine aside.

And revealed the one underneath.

Zane.

Another photo. Another campaign. Him in his Wolves jersey, looking like violence and sex and danger all wrapped into one devastating package.

I pushed it away sharply, like it had burned me.

I wasn't about to get lost in him again.

I needed to prepare myself for this meeting. Needed to be professional. Needed to remember that this was business, not personal.

Even if seeing him again after a week of silence felt like walking into a minefield blindfolded.

I pulled up my presentation on my laptop, reviewing the strategic framework I'd developed for the AI Quantum campaign.

The concept was solid: "Velocity AI" - Where Human Instinct Meets Artificial Intelligence.

A campaign that would position hockey players as the perfect intersection of raw athletic ability and cutting-edge technology.

It was revolutionary. Exactly the kind of breakthrough that could put hockey on the same global marketing level as soccer.

I'd worked on this proposal throughout the night. Refined it. Perfected it.

And now I was going to present it to the man I'd been avoiding for seven days.

The man who'd destroyed his own father to save my stepfather's company.

The man I might be falling in love with.

The man who terrified me more than anything else in my life.

My phone buzzed.

A text from Brenda.

Brenda: Hey girl, since you're working at the Mercer Company now. How's enemy territory treating you?

I smiled despite myself.

Me: Like I'm walking into a gladiator arena. Send reinforcements.

Brenda: You don't need reinforcements. You're Olive Monroe. You eat corporate assholes for breakfast.

Me: I appreciate the confidence. But this feels different.

Brenda: Because it's personal?

I stared at her message for a long moment before responding.

Me: Yeah. Because it's personal.

Brenda: Then make it professional. Show them what you're made of. And if anyone gives you shit, remember—you're Senior VP for a reason. You earned that.

She was right.

I had earned this position. Had worked my ass off for years to get here.

I wasn't going to let Sophia or anyone else make me feel like I didn't belong.

I pulled out my notes, organizing my thoughts for the presentation.

Twenty-five minutes until he arrived.

Twenty-five minutes to get my head together.

Twenty-five minutes to remember that I was Olive Monroe—Senior Vice President of Strategic Development, Hopkins Enterprise.

Not some lovesick woman pining after a man who probably hadn't thought about her once this past week.

Even if that was a complete lie.

Even if I'd thought about him every single day. Every single hour.

Even if seeing that magazine photo had made me feel things I had no business feeling in a professional setting.

I was going to walk into that conference room with my head held high.

I was going to present my strategy like the competent professional I was.

And I was going to prove to everyone—especially Sophia—that I deserved to be here.

Even if it killed me.