His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 83: Olive's Pov

A year ago.

"Cole, look at that car!" I'd pointed excitedly at the sleek silver Mercedes that glided past the restaurant window, my eyes following it until it disappeared around the corner.

We were celebrating our one-year anniversary at an expensive Italian restaurant, Cole's choice, paid for with his "first big AHL salary," as he'd mentioned at least three times that evening.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I'd said dreamily. "Maybe someday when I'm successful, I could—"

"Olive." Cole's voice had cut through my fantasy sharply. He'd set down his wine glass with more force than necessary. "That's not the kind of thing you should be focused on."

I'd blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Expensive cars. Designer things. It's... materialistic." He'd leaned forward, his expression somewhere between concerned and condescending. "You're better than that. I don't want you turning into one of those shallow women who only care about brands and status symbols."

"I wasn't—I just thought it was pretty—"

"I know, baby." He'd reached across the table to pat my hand like I was a child. "I'm just saying, I love that you're not like other girls. You're simple. Pure. You don't need fancy things to be happy, right?"

I'd nodded slowly, that familiar shame creeping up my neck.

"Right. I don't need fancy things."

"Exactly." He'd smiled then, satisfied. "That's my girl. Now, what do you think about the appetizers? I specifically chose this place because it's upscale but not too expensive. It's about finding balance, you know?"

I'd smiled back, pushed down the small hurt blooming in my chest, and told myself he was right.

I didn't need fancy things.

I was better than that.

*******

Present Day.

"Nikolai?" I whispered, staring at the man standing before me like he'd materialized from thin air.

"Hello, Olive." His face held this warm smile. "Zane sent me."

My eyes moved past him to the two men standing behind him, then finally to what they were guarding.

Two cars.

Not just any cars.

A matte black Mercedes-Benz G-Class and a sleek ash-colored G-Wagon, both wrapped in enormous red ribbon bows that looked almost comical in their extravagance.

"Why?" I managed, though my voice came out barely above a whisper.

Nikolai gestured to the vehicles. "Zane asked that we deliver these packages to you."

"Packages?" My eyes snapped back to him sharply. "You mean... those cars?"

He nodded like we were discussing grocery deliveries, not vehicles worth more than I'd make in…

"Yes. He apologizes for not delivering them personally—had some business to handle. But he wanted to make sure you had options for tonight." Nikolai pulled out a set of keys. "A matte black Mercedes-Benz G-Class and an ash-colored G-Wagon. He said to choose whichever one suits your mood."

I stood there, completely frozen, unable to process what I was seeing.

When Zane had mentioned changing my car, I'd thought he was joking. Or maybe he'd meant helping me lease something modest. Not... this.

"No, no, no." I shook my head frantically. "I can't accept this. It's not—I'm sorry, you'll have to take them back to him..."

My phone rang, cutting through my protest.

Zane flashed across the screen.

I stared at it for a moment before answering.

"Zane—"

"Before you say you can't accept them, Muffin, let me stop you right there." His voice was smooth, amused, completely unbothered. "Those cars are already in your name. Registration, insurance, everything. So refusing them would be incredibly wasteful, don't you think?"

"Zane, this is insane—"

"Is it?" I could hear the smile in his voice. "Or is it just what you deserve?"

My throat tightened. "I can't just accept two cars from you—"

"Why not?" His tone shifted slightly, became more serious. "Olive, I don't do things halfway. If I'm going to be with you, you're going to have nice things. Not because you need them to be worth something, but because you already are worth something. Understand?"

I felt tears prick my eyes for reasons I couldn't fully explain.

"I..." My voice wavered. "This is too much."

"It's not nearly enough." His voice softened. "Now, Nikolai's waiting. Pick a car, go to the party, and let me spoil you. Can you do that for me?"

I glanced at Nikolai, who was watching me with patient amusement, then back at the two stunning vehicles gleaming under the streetlights.

Cole's voice echoed in my head: "You're simple. You don't need fancy things."

But standing here, looking at these cars that Zane had chosen specifically for me, I realized something insane had shifted.

Maybe I didn't need fancy things.

But maybe I deserved them anyway.

"Okay," I whispered into the phone.

"Good girl." I could hear the satisfaction in Zane's voice. "Now go show that family of yours exactly who you are."

The line went dead.

I looked at Nikolai. "The ash G-Wagon."

He smiled approvingly and handed me the keys. "Excellent choice. Zane thought you'd pick that one."

********

Twenty minutes later.

My hands gripped the steering wheel of the G-Wagon as I pulled up to the Grayson family estate, and I had to admit—Zane was right.

This felt good.

The engine purred beneath me. The interior smelled like new leather and expensive cologne. Every surface gleamed.

And when I pulled through the ornate iron gates of the estate, I felt something I hadn't felt in years.

Powerful.

I navigated the circular driveway, passing rows of luxury vehicles—BMWs, Audis, a few Teslas. Nice cars, but nothing like what I was driving.

I found a spot and killed the engine, taking a moment to steady my breathing.

'You can do this. You've faced worse than a family dinner.'

I grabbed my clutch, checked my lipstick in the mirror one last time, and stepped out of the car.

The cool evening air hit my skin, carrying the sound of classical music and laughter from inside the house. String lights were woven through the trees, and the entire estate looked like something from a magazine spread.

I was smoothing down my dress when I heard it.

"Oh. My. God."

I turned to see Vanessa—my step-cousin—standing near the entrance with two of her friends, all of them frozen mid-conversation, staring at me like I'd just descended from a spaceship.

Vanessa's eyes traveled from my face to my dress to the car behind me, her expression shifting from shock to something that looked almost like... envy?

"Olive?" She took a few steps closer, her designer heels clicking on the stone driveway. "Is that... is that a G-Wagon?"

"Hi, Vanessa." I smiled sweetly, locking the car with a soft beep that seemed impossibly loud in the sudden silence. "It's good to see you."

"That's a new G-Wagon," one of her friends whispered, loud enough for me to hear. "Those start at, like, a three hundred and thirty thousand—"

"Three hundred and fifty," Vanessa corrected absently, still staring. "Custom ash color, upgraded interior..." Her eyes snapped back to mine. "How—where did you—"

"It was a gift," I said simply, adjusting my clutch.

"A gift?" Vanessa's voice pitched higher. "From who?"

I smiled, channeling every ounce of confidence Zane had been slowly building in me over the past weeks.

"Someone who thinks I deserve nice things."

And with that, I walked past her toward the house, feeling her stunned stare burning into my back.

But I didn't look back.

Not once.

Because for the first time I might think of, I wasn't the girl who apologized for taking up space.

I was the woman who drove a G-Wagon and wore Chanel.

And tonight, they were all going to see it.