Chapter 37: Olive's POV
It didn't take long.
A sleek black matte car pulled up outside the café, and my stomach dropped so fast I thought I might be sick.
That car. I knew that car.
"Wasn't that the same car we—" I whispered to myself, the memory slamming into me. His hands on my thighs, my back against the leather, the way he'd—
My phone buzzed.
Zane: Don't even think about leaving, Muffin. Stay right where you are.
My heart kicked against my ribs. I looked up through the window, saw him still sitting in the driver's seat, phone in hand, watching me.
He knew. Of course he knew.
I typed back quickly: Not here. Too many people.
Zane: Good.
Good? What the hell did he mean good?
The door chimed.
And Zane Mercer walked in.
The entire café went silent.
He was dressed in dark jean
