His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 88: Olive's Pov

I'd always known two things about Zane.

One, he was dangerous. Everyone knew that—it wasn't exactly a secret when your boyfriend had a reputation for putting guys through the boards hard enough to break ribs.

Two, he was unpredictable. You'd never understand his next course of action, and you shouldn't be too shocked by what he did next, but still, most of it could be beyond human comprehension.

And one of them was this.

Zane stood there after saying what he had just said—after I'd admitted I thought Alonso might be fascinating to me—and he wasn't looking enraged. He should've been furious. Even though our relationship had an expiry date stamped on it from the start, even though we both knew this thing between us wasn't forever, he should've looked angry that I'd thought about another man. That I'd even noticed another man noticing me.

Because, believe me, I had been in a pathetic relationship where I couldn't even stare at another man or breathe near another man. Cole had made sure of that, made me feel like even glancing in someone else's direction was a betrayal worth punishment.

But Zane?

He looked incredibly happy.

Satisfied, even, that I had thought Alonso might be fascinated with me. Like I'd just told him his favorite team won the championship or something equally thrilling.

And it was scary as hell.

Because it meant one thing—Zane was up to something.

"Zane... you are... happy? Why?" I asked, hating how my voice came out uncertain and confused. "What the hell are you planning?"

I hated the fact that I preferred him being enraged over him being happy. At least when he was angry, which I haven’t seen in him yet, but at least, I might knew where I stood. This? This smiling, satisfied version of him? Terrifying.

"Muffin... you overthink everything." His voice was amused, like I was some puzzle he'd already solved while I was still trying to figure out what game we were playing.

"But—"

His phone rang, cutting me off, and he stared at the screen for a beat too long. A grin suddenly appeared on his face before he masked it up, pulling his phone right into his pocket without answering.

My stomach dropped. That look—I'd seen it before. It was his 'something's about to go down' look.

"Zane..."

"Muffin... you should go home. I should be going." He said it casually, like he hadn't just shown up out of nowhere and caught me with Alonso doing nothing.

He dropped me a peck on my forehead, and I grabbed his arm before he could pull away.

"You're leaving? Already... so soon?" The words tumbled out faster than I could stop them. "But you just came, and I'm pretty sure Vanessa must have told everyone and my step father that you're here in the flesh. They're all waiting inside to meet the great Zane Mercer."

Different questions piled in my head, ones I was trying to ask but couldn't quite form because he was already leaving. After seeing whatever the hell he had seen on that phone screen.

"The more anticipated they are to see me, the merrier," he replied, giving me a quick kiss that tasted like him before walking out, boots clicking on the ground in that quiet stealth mode that he'd used earlier when he'd caught me and Alonso talking.

I stared at his leaving figure, watching until he disappeared into the night, his broad shoulders swallowed up by darkness. The questions never even reduced, instead they became worse, multiplying slowly.

What was he planning? Why was he happy about Alonso? What was that phone call about?

"Fuck you, Zane," I whispered to the empty driveway, before turning and walking back into the scene I had left earlier.

And the second I did, all eyes turned to look at me. Some had their eyebrows lifted up in question, others still looking behind me, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of their high and mighty hockey star walking into the room to say 'Hello, I'm Zane Mercer, nice to meet you all.'

The disappointment on their faces would've been funny if I wasn't so annoyed.

"Where's—"

"He left," I replied, cutting Janet off before she could get started. I walked to the chair to grab my bag, preparing for the inevitable lecture.

"Left already? So soon?" Janet's voice rose, shrill and accusing. "This is outrageous. He couldn't even say hello to the family? Come greet the elders? What sort of man are you dating, Olive? A disrespecter. That's what he is."

Her voice was hushed but sharp, like she was in fact accusing me rather than Zane. Like I was the one who'd personally offended her by dating someone who didn't worship at the altar of family dinner politics.

I turned to look at her, then at my mom, who was staring at me with that expression, the one that was trying to tell me to not break, to not fall into Janet's bait. To be the bigger person.

"Something came up and he apologizes," I said, keeping my voice even. "Says he'll make it up next time."

I didn't wait for her reply. Didn't stick around to hear whatever judgmental bullshit was about to spew from her mouth. I left the scene, not caring what came next as I walked toward my new car, heels clicking against the pavement.

Different questions still brewing up, swirling around in my head like a storm.

Why was he so hopeful that I was interested in Alonso? Why did he come all the way here just to leave five minutes later? Did something happen?

Perhaps I should call Walter. Maybe my dad could tell me if something went wrong in Zane's world, if there was some underground racing drama I didn't know about.

Just as I was about to grab my phone, a call came in.

Brenda.

I squinted my eyebrows, confused. I knew we were meant to speak on our next video call meeting in the next three to four hours. This wasn't like her to call early unless something was wrong or she was really excited about something.

I shakily picked up, hoping everything was all right.

And the second I answered, bright light shone through the screen, club lights, the kind that flashed purple and blue and made everything look like a music video.

"Hey girl! I know this isn't the right time since you're with family," Brenda said, her voice high with excitement. "So I have this idea. Not totally an idea, but I got these two tickets to this popular VIP club and I'm talking about the best in town. So much buzz about it, and I don't want to waste this ticket. Do you mind coming over, in that dress of yours? And the new car?"

She said it all without taking a breath, and it was obvious she was still at home, getting dressed while she had club lights set up in her room to see which outfit sparkled most in the strobe effect.

"I haven't told you about the car yet," I said, frowning at the screen. "How did you know about it?"

"I should be mad that I have to find out from Vanessa," she shot back, and I could hear the pout in her voice. "She literally posted over forty videos on The Tok and The Gram. Made so many videos about your new vehicle, it's all over the internet. Girl, I'm mad at you. And ever since you came back from this trip, I've never really hung out with you for real. Come out. Let's go clubbing. Spend this goddamn ticket with me."

She replied while patting powder on her face, then touching up her lips with what looked like the brightest red lipstick I'd ever seen.

I hesitated for half a second, thinking about Zane and his weird behavior and all the questions I had. Then I thought about sitting at home, overthinking everything until I drove myself crazy.

"Okay. Great. I'm coming to pick you up," I said, and Brenda let out a cheer that probably woke up her neighbors.

I ended the call and looked around the empty driveway, my hands balling into fists.

"Fuck you, Vanessa," I whispered, walking to my car and yanking the door open before sliding into the driver's seat and slamming it shut.

Tonight, I'd club with Brenda. Tomorrow, I'd face the tribulations that came with dating a hockey star player and having my name plastered all over the internet like I was some kind of celebrity girlfriend.

But tonight? Tonight I'd party and forget that none of this concerned me. I'd drink and dance and pretend that my life wasn't spiraling into something I couldn't control.

Even if I knew, deep down, that it absolutely was.