Olive's POV

Chapter Four: Olive's POV

"What I'm willing to give you?"

I stared at him like he'd just spoken a language I didn't understand. Because what the actual fuck kind of question was that?

My eyebrows pulled together so tight my forehead hurt. "What does that even mean? I don't—I don't fucking know you. And you're standing here asking me what I'm willing to give you?"

I laughed. It came out bitter. Sarcastic. A little unhinged.

But my cheeks were burning. Absolutely on fire. Because of how close he was standing, because I could see every detail of his chest—those abs, those arms, that scar above his eyebrow that made him look dangerous instead of perfect—and my body was betraying me in ways I didn't want to think about.

When I forced myself to meet his eyes again, something in his expression made my stomach flip.

"Cole Maddox."

My blood turned to ice.

Every muscle in my body went rigid. "What did you just say?"

"Cole Maddox," he repeated. Calm.

"I know about him. About your relationship. That he's been cheating on you with my sister. That he used you for two years and then dumped you like you were nothing."

The room tilted.

How the hell did he know about Cole? About any of it?

Was this some kind of sick game? Did Cole send him here? Was my stepbrother in on this?

"And what are you?" My voice shook, anger seeping through the shock. "The cleanup crew? Here to—what, wipe off the stain Cole left behind? Make sure the poor pathetic ex-girlfriend doesn't embarrass herself?"

His eyebrow raised. Amused. Like this was entertaining to him.

"Did Cole send you?" I stepped forward now, couldn't help it, anger overriding self-preservation. "To make sure I stay away from his games? Is Hunter in on this too? Is this some sick fucking joke where everyone gets to laugh at the girl who was stupid enough to believe her boyfriend loved her?"

It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

And the way Zane's lips curved—like he was enjoying this, my confusion, my anger, the way I was falling apart right in front of him—made me want to slap him.

Or kiss him.

I wasn't sure which impulse was stronger and that scared me more than anything.

"Cole Maddox is irrelevant to what's happening between us right now." His voice dropped lower, and I hated that it made my knees weak. "But I do have a proposal."

I blinked. "A proposal."

"Yes."

"From a complete stranger who somehow knows everything about my failed relationship, a magazine impulse move, and had me dragged into a room under false pretenses."

His lips twitched. "When you say it like that, it sounds bad."

"Because it is bad."

"Hear me out."

"Why should I?" But I didn't move. Didn't walk away. Because as much as I wanted to, as much as every logical part of my brain was screaming at me to run, I couldn't.

I needed to know what he wanted. Why he knew about Cole. What the hell was happening.

He took another step closer.

My breath hitched.

I wanted to step back. Wanted to put space between us. But my spine hit the wall behind me and I realized with a jolt that I'd been backing up this entire time without even noticing.

Fuck.

"Date me."

The words hung in the air between us.

I blinked. Once. Twice. "What?"

"Be my partner. Publicly. We attend events together. Build your profile. Make Cole Maddox regret every single decision he's ever made in his pathetic life."

My brain stuttered. Stopped. Tried to restart and failed.

"You want me to..." I couldn't even finish the sentence. "Date you."

"Yes."

"Fake date you."

"Does it matter if it's fake?" He tilted his head, and the movement made me notice how close he was. Too close. Not close enough. "The result is the same. Cole suffers. You move on looking like you upgraded. Everyone wins."

I stared at him.

He was serious. This man—this stranger who looked like he'd walked straight out of my most inappropriate fantasies—was standing here asking me to fake date him to make my ex jealous.

Like this was normal. Like people did this every day. Like I hadn't spent the last three days convincing myself I was done with revenge and games and all of it.

"Why?" My voice cracked. "Why would you want this? You don't know me. You don't owe me anything. So why the hell would you offer to—to—"

"Because it benefits me too."

That stopped me. The pieces trying to pull together in my confused, overwhelmed brain.

"How?"

His expression shifted. Something darker sliding across his face, something that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

"Let's just say Cole Maddox and I have... unfinished business. And having you by my side speeds up certain plans I have in motion."

"Plans." I repeated the word like it might make sense if I said it out loud. "What kind of plans?"

"The kind I'm not going to explain."

"Of course not." I laughed, sharp and humorless. "So you want me to agree to fake date you—a complete stranger—for reasons you won't explain, to get revenge on an ex I'm trying to forget, while you use me for some mysterious plan involving Cole that you won't tell me about."

"When you say it like that—"

"It sounds insane. Because it is insane."

He stepped closer again.

And this time when I tried to step back, there was nowhere to go.

The wall was right there. He was right there. Caging me in without actually touching me, and somehow that made it worse because I could feel the heat radiating off him, could smell that expensive cologne or soap or whatever the hell it was that made my head spin.

"Think about it, Olive." His voice was barely above a whisper now. Intimate. Like we were the only two people in the world. "You walk into every event on my arm. Photographers everywhere. Social media going crazy. And Cole sees all of it. Sees you moved on. Sees you with someone better. Someone he's been obsessing over for—what did you say? A year and a half?"

My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.

"You know about the photo."

"I know everything about Cole Maddox." His eyes locked on mine, and I couldn't look away even though I wanted to. "Including what he did to you."

"Then you know I'm trying to move on. To forget him. Not play games."

"This isn't a game." He leaned in. Just slightly. Just enough that I could count his eyelashes if I wanted to. "This is power, Olive. You take control of the narrative. You show him and everyone else that you're not some girl he can discard. You're someone he never deserved in the first place."

God, he was good.

His words wrapped around me like a fucking trap. Like he knew exactly what to say to make this sound appealing, to make me want to say yes even though every rational part of my brain was screaming that this was a terrible idea.

And the worst part?

It was working.

I could picture it. Walking into that arena on Zane Mercer's arm. Flash bulbs going off. Cole's face when he saw me. The shock. The jealousy. The regret.

It would feel so good.

So, so good.

But—

"What do you really get out of this?" I asked, forcing myself to focus past the heat and the proximity and the way his eyes were making me forget how to think. "Because I don't buy the 'unfinished business' excuse. There's something else. So what is it? What do you actually want from me?"

His jaw tightened.

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. Thought he'd deflect or change the subject or do whatever powerful men did when they didn't want to give up control.

Then he smiled. Slow. Dangerous. The kind of smile that made me think of wolves and mating and things that looked beautiful until they marked.