His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 35: Olive's Pov

The call came twenty minutes after I left Grayson's office.

I was still standing on the sidewalk like an idiot, people rushing past me with their coffee cups and briefcases, living their normal lives while mine was actively imploding. My phone buzzed in my hand and I almost didn't answer when I saw the name.

Ryan Mitchell.

Of course. Because today wasn't already a dumpster fire.

"What," I said flatly.

"Well, hello to you too, sunshine." His voice was that same obnoxious tone I remembered from college. Too confident, too casual, like he'd never heard the word 'no' in his life. "Miss me?"

"What do you want, Ryan?"

"To meet. Tonight. There's a café on Pine Street, you know the one—"

"The bet's over," I cut him off. "Zane kissed me. In front of everyone. You lost. So unless you're calling to congratulate me, I'm hanging up."

"Exactly." He paused, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "Don't you want to get paid?"

I froze.

"What?"

"The bet, Olive. A hundred thousand dollars. You won. Fair and square." He sounded almost cheerful about it. "So unless you don't want the money—"

"I want the money."

The words came out too fast, too desperate, but I didn't care. I'd just been kicked out of my home. I needed a new apartment, needed to figure out how the hell I was going to survive the next few months without crawling back to Grayson and begging forgiveness.

A hundred thousand dollars would go a long way.

"Thought so," Ryan said. "Pine Street Café. Seven o'clock. Don't be late."

He hung up before I could respond.

I stood there staring at my phone, trying to figure out if this was some kind of trap. Ryan didn't strike me as the type to actually honor a bet, especially one that cost him six figures. But he'd called. He'd offered. And I was broke and homeless and running out of options.

Worst case? I wasted an hour of my time.

Best case? I walked out with enough money to start over.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and started walking back to my office because apparently, I still have a job.

******

The café was one of those trendy Seattle spots with exposed brick walls and overpriced lattes, the kind of place where everyone looked like they were working on the next great American novel. I spotted Ryan immediately—sitting in the back corner, legs stretched out like he owned the place, scrolling through his phone.

He looked up when I walked in, that stupid grin spreading across his face.

"There she is," he said, standing up. "The girl who tamed Zane Mercer."

"Don't," I said, sliding into the seat across from him. "Just... don't."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Relax. I'm here to pay you, remember?"

"Then pay me."

"Jesus, you're tense." He flagged down a waiter, ordered some ridiculous drink I didn't catch, then looked at me. "You want anything?"

"Just the money, Ryan."

He laughed, actually laughed, cocky, soundless, ridiculous, anything I could think of, like this was some sort of sick joke. "You know, I thought you were bluffing. Thought there was no way in hell you'd actually get Zane to kiss you publicly. The guy doesn't do relationships. Doesn't do public displays. He barely acknowledges the women he fucks, let alone—"

"Are we doing this or not?" I interrupted.

Ryan's grin faded slightly. He pulled out his phone, tapped a few things, then slid it across the table to show me a banking app.

Wire transfer. To my account. One hundred thousand dollars.

My breath caught. I couldn’t believe this. This was insane.

And too good to be true.