His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 164: Olive's Pov

"Miss Monroe," Nina said, her voice softer now. "Please, have a seat. Mr. Mercer should be arriving shortly."

I moved to my chair on shaking legs and sat down.

My hands were trembling. My entire body was trembling.

But I wasn't going to let Sophia see how much her words had affected me.

Wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd gotten under my skin.

The door opened.

And everything in the room shifted.

Zane walked in, and it was like the temperature dropped ten degrees.

He was wearing all black again—fitted shirt, tailored pants, that dangerous energy that made everyone sit up straighter.

But it was his face that made my breath catch.

Cold. Hard. Completely unreadable.

His eyes swept the room, landing on me for just a second—long enough for me to see something flicker in his expression—before moving to Nina.

"Mr. Mercer," Nina said, standing. "Thank you for joining us. We're ready to continue the assessment."

Zane nodded once and moved to his seat at the head of the table.

Directly across from me.

Just like last time.

The air between us crackled with tension.

"Let's begin," Nina said, sitting back down. "Miss Mercer, would you like to present your revised concepts first?"

Sophia's face lit up.

"Of course," she said, moving to the front of the room.

She launched into her presentation—talking about artistic vision and cultural impact and all the buzzwords that sounded impressive but meant nothing.

I barely heard any of it.

Because I could feel Zane's eyes on me.

Not constantly. Not obviously. But every few seconds, his gaze would drift to me, like he couldn't help himself.

And each time our eyes met, something electric shot through my chest.

Sophia finished her presentation and returned to her seat, looking smug.

"Thank you, Miss Mercer," Nina said. "Miss Monroe? Your turn."

I stood, my legs somehow holding me up despite the fear coursing through my veins.

Walked to the front of the room and pulled up my presentation.

VELOCITY AI: WHERE HUMAN INSTINCT MEETS ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE

I took a breath.

And began.

"The challenge with marketing AI technology to athletes," I said, my voice steadier than I felt, "is making it feel like an enhancement rather than a replacement. Athletes don't want to be told they need help. They want to be told they're becoming unstoppable."

I clicked to the next slide.

"So we position Quantum AI as the ultimate power-up. Not something that replaces their instincts—something that sharpens them. Makes them faster. Smarter. Better."

I walked through my strategy. Simple. Clear. Focused on emotion instead of technical specs.

"We're not selling technology," I concluded. "We're selling evolution. The next step in athletic dominance. And hockey players are leading the charge."

I returned to my seat, my heart pounding.

The room was silent.

Then Zane spoke.

"That's exactly what we need."

His voice was quiet but absolute.

Everyone turned to look at him.

Shocked.

"Miss Monroe's approach is strategic, emotional, and most importantly—it's executable," Zane continued, his eyes locked on mine. "This is the direction we're taking."

Sophia's face went white.

"But my concepts—"

"Are beautiful," Zane interrupted. "But they're not sellable. We need something that resonates with athletes and consumers. Not art gallery pieces."

The dismissal was brutal.

Sophia's hands clenched on the table.

"So you're choosing her strategy over mine, because the last time…" she said, her voice tight.

"I'm choosing the better strategy," Zane corrected. "Which happens to be hers. And the last time, she took corrections and leveled up."

Nina was nodding, clearly agreeing.

"I think that's the right call," she said. "Miss Monroe, excellent work. We'll move forward with your framework."

I should have felt triumphant. Should have been celebrating this win.

But all I could feel was Zane's eyes on me.

And the weight of everything unsaid between us.

The meeting continued for another thirty minutes—logistics, timelines, implementation plans, brand shots.

Finally, Nina stood.

"I think that's enough for today," she said. "Mr. Mercer, thank you for your time. Ladies, excellent work."

Zane stood, nodded once to Nina, and walked out without looking at me again.

The second the door closed behind him, Sophia turned on me.

"You think you're so smart," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You think you have my brother wrapped around your little finger."

I stood, gathering my materials.

"I don't think anything, Sophia. I'm just doing my job."

"Bullshit." She stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "You're playing games. Making him think you're worth something. But you're not. You're just some nobody from Hopkins who got lucky."

"If you have a problem with my work, take it up with Nina," I said calmly, even though my heart was racing.

"Oh, I don't have a problem with your work," Sophia said with a cold smile. "I have a problem with you. And trust me—this little victory you're celebrating? It won't last. Very soon, you'll be removed from this project. Removed from this company. And you'll realize you're nothing."

She leaned in closer.

"So enjoy this while it lasts," she whispered. "Because it's all about to come crashing down."

Then she turned and walked out, Stephanie trailing after her like a loyal puppy.

I stood there alone in the conference room, my hands shaking.

And all I could think was that Sophia was right.

This wasn't going to last.

Nothing good in my life ever did.