Chapter 128: Chapter 128
Maxwell’s POV
"Asshole," I muttered under my breath the moment the conference room door closed behind David. "Fucking bastard."
My jaw was clenched so tight I could feel my teeth grinding together. The nerve of that man... sitting in my conference room, describing Olivia’s body in graphic detail like she was some conquest to brag about. Talking about her moles, her breasts, her...
I pressed my fingers against my temples, trying to ease the rage-induced headache that was building.
When I was eating her pussy.
The words echoed in my mind, and my hands immediately balled into fists. The image of David’s face between Olivia’s legs, his mouth on her most intimate places, making her moan...
Stop. Just stop.
I clenched my fists tighter, nails digging into my palms as I fought to contain this fury within me.
AAAAAHHHH!!!
Olivia’s POV
The moment I saw David emerge from the conference room, my heart nearly stopped. His expression was unreadable, and when his eyes met mine briefly, I couldn’t tell if I was about to be exposed or if I’d somehow dodged another bullet.
As soon as he disappeared down the hallway, I practically ran into the conference room, my mind already preparing for the worst. Termination letter. Public humiliation. Arrest for fraud.
Because even though there were several complications regarding this job, I still needed it. Desperately.
I found Gabriel and Maxwell talking in low voices when I entered. The moment they saw me, they stopped mid-sentence, both turning to look at me with expressions I couldn’t quite read.
My stomach dropped to my feet.
They were talking about me. They had to be. David had told Maxwell everything, and Maxwell had told Gabriel, and now they both knew I was Olivia - Gabriel’s chaperoned blind date and the woman Maxwell supposedly hated for his best friend.
I walked towards them slowly, watching their faces for any sign of accusation or anger.
Gabriel spoke first, breaking the tense silence. "Well, I’m going back to my game," he said casually, then walked past me and tapped me on the back in that friendly, bro-like way men did with each other. "Catch you later, Oliver."
Okay. That was... that was a good sign, right? He wouldn’t have acted so casual if he knew I was actually a woman. Would he?
Maxwell remained in his seat, his head now tilted back against the headrest, face turned toward the ceiling. He looked exhausted - no, more than exhausted. He looked drained.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice tentative.
"Yes," he said without looking at me. "I just need a little rest."
I stood there awkwardly. "What do you want me to do? Should I call for someone?"
That’s when he looked at me.
And his eyes - those intense, penetrating eyes - dropped immediately to my stomach area.
My blood turned to ice.
Why was he looking at my stomach? Was it my trousers? Could he see the line where my binding ended? Was it obvious I had no bulge, no masculine shape in that area? Had David’s words finally made him actually look at me and see the truth?
I resisted the urge to cover my stomach with my notebook, to run, to do anything except stand there frozen while he stared.
Finally, he spoke. "I don’t need anything from you right now." His voice was flat, emotionless. "Go home. My cat probably needs you."
The mention of Mitchell made my confusion deepen.
"You should relax this weekend," he continued, still not quite meeting my eyes. "Resume on Monday."
"Thank you, sir," I managed to say.
"My driver will take you home. One of the staff will get your suitcase." He waved his hand dismissively, like he couldn’t wait for me to leave.
Then, almost as an afterthought: "Take care of my cat."
But something was off. The way he was speaking - his words were slightly slurred, his breathing labored. He looked pale again, that grayish tinge returning to his skin.
"Are you sure you’re okay?" I asked, genuine concern overriding my anxiety about my own situation. "I can stay if you need me to. If your pneumonia is..."
"No." The word came out sharp. "The guys will look after me. Just go, Oliver."
The dismissal stung more than it should have. But I had no choice.
I nodded and headed upstairs to pack my things. A staff member was already waiting outside my room, ready to carry my suitcase.
As I threw my belongings back into my bag, my mind kept replaying Maxwell’s strange behavior. The way he’d looked at my stomach. The way he’d basically ordered me to leave.
Did he know? Was he trying to figure out how to fire me without causing a scene?
The staff member carried my suitcase downstairs while I followed behind.
In the living room, all three men were sprawled across the sofas.
"Leaving already?" Alex asked when he spotted me.
"Yeah, Mr. Wellington gave me the remaining day off."
"Lucky you," Gabriel said without looking up.
Then Damien spoke, and his words made me feel uncomfortable all over again: "We’ll miss you, bro." The way he said it...
I forced a smile, nodding at them. "Thanks. See you guys around."
As I headed toward the door, I couldn’t help but think: I’d been so convinced Damien was the sane brother. But now? Now I realized both Wellington brothers had complicated, impossible-to-read personalities that kept me constantly off-balance.
Maxwell’s driver was already waiting by a car. He took my suitcase and loaded it into the trunk.
I gave him my address, and settled into the back seat as we pulled away from the mansion.
It wasn’t until we were halfway to my apartment that I suddenly realized something.
I’d never asked Maxwell about the address issue.
Why had he sent Mitchell to Olivia’s address instead of Oliver’s? Did Maxwell actually believe that Olivia was my cousin?
I made a mental note to ask him on Monday. If I still had a job on Monday. If he didn’t spend the weekend figuring out how to fire me without legal repercussions.
The car pulled up in front of my apartment building, and I thanked the driver as I retrieved my suitcase.
I walked up the stairs, feeling exhaustion settling into my bones. This week had been the longest, most stressful week of my entire life.
I reached my door and knocked, too tired to find my keys.
Kira opened it immediately, her face lighting up. "Liv! You’re back! I thought you were going to stay in Chicago a while longer. How’s that douchebag Maxwell doing?"
"I got back yesterday," I said, dragging my suitcase inside. "But I’ve been at Maxwell’s mansion this whole time. It’s... it’s been a really long couple of days."
"His mansion? Girl, you need to tell me everything..."
But Kira’s words were cut off by a soft, "Meow."
Mitchell.
I turned to see Mitchell strutting into the living room with all the grace and dignity of royalty. Her fluffy tail was held high, her green eyes fixed on me with what could only be described as regal displeasure.
I dropped to my knees, arms outstretched, expecting her to run into my arms. "Mitchell! Mommy’s home!"
But she didn’t run to me. Didn’t bound over for cuddles and head bumps and those sweet purring sounds I’d missed so much.
Instead, she stopped about three feet away and sat down. Just sat there, her tail curled elegantly around her paws, staring at me like I was a servant who’d disappointed the queen.
"Mitchell?" I said uncertainly. "Baby, what’s wrong?"
Mitchell blinked slowly - once, twice - as if to say, You abandoned me. You left me here for days. And now you expect me to just forgive you?
"Oh my God," Kira said from behind me, barely suppressing laughter. "That cat is giving you the cold shoulder."
"She is not!" I protested, even though it was obvious that’s exactly what was happening.
I crawled forward on my knees, reaching out to pet her. "Mitchell, sweetie, I’m so sorry I was gone. But I brought..."
Mitchell turned her head away from me with a dismissive flick of her ear.
The rejection was mad devastating.
"She’s mad at you," Kira said, now openly laughing. "That is one petty cat. Just like her owner."
"Mitchell, please," I begged, trying to approach from a different angle. "I missed you so much. Don’t you love me anymore?"
Instead she stood up, turned around so her fluffy white backside was facing me, and walked away with her tail held high - the ultimate feline insult.
"Oh, she’s good," Kira said, wiping tears from her eyes. "That’s the most passive-aggressive thing I’ve ever seen an animal do."
I sat back on my heels, staring after Mitchell’s retreating form in disbelief. "I cannot believe she did that to me, after everything I just went through with her owner."