His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 38: Olive's Pov

The car was silent.

He started the engine and pulled into traffic, and neither of us said anything. The tension was thick enough for me to choke on it. I kept my eyes on the road, on the buildings passing by, anywhere but him.

But I could feel him. Could feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel, those fingers that had been inside me—

Stop. Stop thinking about that.

"What are you thinking about, Muffin?" His voice cut through the silence. "Penny for your thoughts?"

My eyes betrayed me, flicking to his arms. They looked impossibly large gripping the wheel, muscles flexing with every turn. Those hands. Those fingers.

"Muffin." His tone shifted, concerned. "You good? Want me to pull over?"

"No!" I said too quickly, heat flooding my cheeks. "I'm fine. I just—" I cleared my throat, trying to sound normal. "What are you doing in Seattle?"

I knew what Ryan had said, but I needed to hear it from him.

He glanced at me, something unreadable flickering across his face before his eyes returned to the road.

"Because I wanted to be close to you." His voice was matter-of-fact, like he was stating the weather. "I don't do long distance. So for the next two months, I'm staying in Seattle."

The air left my lungs.

"What?"

"You heard me."

My heart was doing something strange in my chest—flipping, racing, trying to claw its way up my throat.

"Muffin, are you okay?" He looked at me again, real concern in his eyes now despite still driving.

"I'm—" I swallowed hard. "I'm just shocked. I didn't think you'd..."

Cole never did this. Cole always had an excuse. Always had a reason why he couldn't come see me, why I needed to be the one to fly out, to meet him at the airport, to rearrange my entire life around his schedule. And I'd thought that was normal. Thought that was what being supportive looked like.

But Zane had just moved to an entirely different city. For me.

Even if this was fake. Even if it was just for show.

"You thought I'd what?" Zane's voice was softer now. "That I'd spend the next two months away from you?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel—knuckles going white for just a second—and something dark flashed across his face. Then it was gone, replaced by that calm, controlled mask he wore so well.

"No, Muffin. You're stuck with me for two months." His eyes found mine. "And I plan to make use of every single second."

The way he said it made my stomach flip.

"I'm getting a new apartment," I blurted out.

"That's good—"

"Good?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Grayson just kicked me out. Told me not to come back to the house I've lived in for almost ten years. My home."

For a split second, his jaw tightened, something dangerous flickering in his eyes. Then it smoothed out, and he glanced at me with an expression I couldn't read.

"Sounds like it's time for you to move on with your life anyway." His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it. "You can come live with me."

My mouth fell open. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Moving on means living with you?" I stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

He chuckled—actually chuckled—and there was something in that sound, something warm and real that made my chest ache.

"I was taking a shot." He shrugged. "But if you're not interested, I'll get you an agent. Someone who can find you a place in a secure building. I'll handle everything."

I wasn't expecting that. Wasn't expecting him to just... offer to take care of it.

"No." My voice came out firmer than I felt. "I want to handle the financial part. And finding the place."

He raised an eyebrow. "You really want to fight me on this?"

"I'm not fighting. It's my first real apartment. I don't want you paying for it." I crossed my arms. "You can help with the security checks or whatever, but I'm paying for it. That's final."

The car slowed at a red light, and he turned to look at me fully. Really look at me.

"Most women would kill for someone to hand them a paid-for apartment," he said slowly.

"I'm not most women."

"No." His eyes darkened, something hungry moving behind them. "You're not."

The light turned green. He accelerated, eyes back on the road.

"Fine," he said. "You pay for the apartment. But I'm getting you a new car."

"Zane—"

"Not negotiable, Muffin." His grin was back, sharp and dangerous. "You're mine for two months. Which means I get to make sure you're safe. And that piece of shit you drive isn't safe."

"My car is fine—"

"Your car is fifteen years old and the check engine light has been on for six months."

I froze. "How do you know that?"

He didn't answer. Just kept driving, that infuriating smile playing at his lips.

And despite everything—despite the chaos, despite not knowing if any of this was real—I felt something warm in my chest.

Something terrifying.