His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 33: Olive's Pov

My phone wouldn't stop. Ping. Ping. Ping. Each notification made my heart do something weird—like it couldn't decide if it wanted to explode or just stop beating altogether.

I opened Instagram first. Big mistake.

"Hockey's golden boy Zane Mercer declares interest in mystery girl 'Olive'—who is she?"

"She really thinks she's special enough for ZANE MERCER??? Girl, wake up."

"He's going to destroy her. Just like he did to Sabrina. RIP to this poor girl's heart."

"Yuck. Someone tell her to RUN before he drops the bombshell."

I locked my phone so hard I almost cracked the screen, then shoved it into my bag as the Uber driver pulled up to the airport pickup.

A week ago, I was nobody. The kind of nobody people don't look at twice on the sidewalk. The kind who blends into coffee shop crowds and grocery store lines. I existed in this perfectly invisible bubble where no one gave a damn what I did or who I was with.

Now? I was trending.

A laugh burst out of me—sharp, a little unhinged. The driver's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, and I watched him try to figure out if I was losing it. Maybe I was. The airport was crawling with people staring at their phones, then at me, then back at their phones like they were solving some puzzle.

But that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was that I was heading home to face my parents after choosing Zane in front of everyone. Zane, who Grayson hated with every fiber of his being. Zane, who'd fucked me so thoroughly last night that I could still feel the bruises on my hips when I moved. Zane, whose mansion I'd snuck out of at five this morning like some teenager dodging curfew, booking the first flight back to Seattle before he could wake up and—

And what? Ask me to stay? Laugh at me for thinking last night meant something?

My phone buzzed again and I groaned, digging it back out. Please let it not be another article calling me delusional.

It wasn't.

Grayson: Get to my office. Now. Or you're fired.

"Fuck," I whispered.

The driver cleared his throat. "Miss? Where are we going?"

I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back against the seat. Of course. Of course Grayson would do this now.

"Change of plans," I said. "Take me to Hopkins Enterprise."

"Hey, Miranda."

I forced a smile as I approached Grayson's assistant, who looked up from her keyboard with that perfectly pleasant expression she always wore.

"Oh, Olive." She glanced toward Grayson's office door, then back at me. "He's pissed. Like, really pissed. I've never seen him this angry, and I've worked here for six years. There are three board members in there with him, so..." She lowered her voice. "Maybe wait until they leave? Unless you can handle the heat."

"Thanks for the warning." I started toward the door, my stomach twisting.

"Hey, wait—" Miranda's voice stopped me. When I turned, she was grinning. "How the hell did you do it?"

I blinked. "Do what?"

"Land Zane Mercer." She leaned forward like we were sharing secrets. "Seriously. I need tips. That man is—"

"I learned how to be a good lay," I said flatly, watching her smile evaporate. "You should try it sometime."

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Good. I turned back to the door, my pulse hammering in my ears.

I wasn't ready for this. Not for Grayson's disappointment, not for the lecture, not for whatever he was about to throw at me. But I also wasn't ready to lose my job, so here I was.

My phone rang—loud, obnoxious. I yanked it out. Brenda.

"Not now," I muttered, but answered anyway. "Hey—"

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?" Brenda's voice was so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. "I've been calling since last night! You didn't answer texts, calls, nothing. I thought you were dead!"

"I'm fine, I'm at the office. Grayson wants to see me, so I have to—"

"Wait, wait, wait." She cut me off. "Before you go in there, I need to tell you something."

"Brenda—"

"It's important! Like, leverage important."

That got my attention. "What kind of leverage?"

"Your whole thing with Zane? It boosted Hopkins' stock. Twelve percent. Twelve. People found out you work for Grayson and now they're interested in the company again. The board is thrilled. He should be thanking you, not chewing you out."

I stood there, phone pressed to my ear, trying to process that. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Use it if you need to. Good luck." She hung up.

I stared at the door. Twelve percent. That was... that was huge. Grayson had been trying to expand the company for years, trying to diversify beyond just working with hockey management. And now—because of me and Zane—he had the capital to do it.