CHAPTER 178: CHAPTER 178

Maxwell’s POV

She gasped at my question.

But still looked ravished when I pulled back - her eyes wide and dazed, her lips swollen from the kiss, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her baggy clothes.

Shocked. Confused. Completely undone.

Perfect.

I stood from the bed before I could change my mind, before I could give in to the temptation to stay, to kiss her again, to completely strip off her clothes and have my way with her. And judging by the way she was looking at me, I was sure she would’ve given herself willingly.

But not yet. Not like this. Stick to the plan.

I walked toward the connecting door, forcing my feet to move even though every instinct was screaming at me to turn back.

At the doorway, I paused and looked over my shoulder.

She was still sitting there, frozen, staring at me like she couldn’t believe what had just happened.

"Next time you want something, just ask instead of eavesdropping."

Then I stepped through the door and closed it behind me, leaving her alone with her confusion and desire and the mess I’d created.

Olivia’s POV

I woke up gasping, my body covered in sweat, my heart racing.

The dream had been so vivid, so real - Maxwell’s hands on my skin, his mouth on mine, his voice whispering things that made my entire body flush with heat. But in the dream, when I’d finally looked up at his face, it hadn’t been Maxwell at all.

It had been my stranger.

The hoodie. The mysterious presence. The packages. The way he held me and made me feel cherished.

Maxwell had transformed into my stranger, and they’d been the same person, and I’d been so happy about it...

No.

I sat up abruptly, pushing my sweat-dampened hair out of my face.

"That’s not possible," I muttered to the empty room. "Maxwell cannot be my stranger. He doesn’t have the ability to be that caring. That thoughtful. That... good."

They were complete opposites.

The dream didn’t mean anything. It was just my brain processing the insanity of last night - the kiss that shouldn’t have happened, the line we’d crossed, the impossible situation I’d gotten myself into.

The kiss.

My fingers unconsciously moved to my lips, remembering the feel of his mouth on mine, the intensity of it, the way my entire body had responded like I’d been struck by lightning.

And then his words whispered in my ear: Hope you felt pain through that sound?

He was definitely mocking me? Trying to tell me that the sound I’d heard wasn’t one of pain but of pleasure.

A knock on the door made me jump.

"Mr. Oliver?" Rita’s voice came through. "It’s time for breakfast. Mr. Wellington is already downstairs."

Maxwell. Breakfast. Facing him after last night.

My stomach dropped straight through the floor.

"I’ll be down shortly!" I called out, trying to keep my voice in Oliver’s deep tone despite the panic making it want to climb higher.

I heard Rita’s footsteps retreat down the hallway.

For a moment, I considered doing what I’d done last night - refusing to go down, hiding in my room, avoiding Maxwell entirely.

But I couldn’t do that. Not if I wanted to find Mitchell. Not if I wanted to get out of this mansion and back to my normal life before I did something even more stupid than falling through a door while eavesdropping.

And I definitely needed to find Mitchell before I ended up sleeping with Maxwell and exposing my entire identity in the process.

Because that kiss last night had made one thing terrifyingly clear: Maxwell was attracted to Oliver. To his male assistant specifically - despite being mean. And if I stayed here a little longer, he’ll most likely fuck me.

Which meant if - when - he discovered that Oliver was actually Olivia, a woman...

I couldn’t even imagine the horror. The fury. The sense of betrayal.

No. I needed to find Mitchell today. Tomorrow at the latest. Before this situation blows up.

I rushed through my morning routine - shower, binding, wig, facial hairs, men’s clothes.

By the time I looked in the mirror, I looked composed. Definitely not someone who’d been kissed senseless by his boss just hours ago.

You can do this. Just go down there, eat breakfast, avoid eye contact, and get out of the house to search for Mitchell. Simple.

Nothing about this was simple.

But I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and headed downstairs anyway.

When I got down, I frozen in the doorway, my courage crumbling.

And at the head of the table, finishing his breakfast with the morning newspaper spread beside him, sat Maxwell.

He was sharply dressed for work. Every inch the powerful CEO, as if last night had never happened. As if he hadn’t been in my room, half-naked, kissing me until I couldn’t remember my own name.

Maxwell looked up from his newspaper. His eyes met mine, and for a split second, I saw something flash across his face before his expression turned neutral.

"Oliver." He set down his coffee cup. "Good morning."

"Good morning," I managed, my voice coming out rougher than intended.

"Sleep well?"

The question was innocent enough, but the way he asked it made my face heat up.

"Fine," I lied.

He stood, folding his newspaper. "A driver will be waiting for you outside. He knows the city well and has connections at several animal shelters and veterinary clinics. If you need any help during your search for Mitchell, just let him know."

He picked up his briefcase, buttoned his suit jacket, and started walking toward the door.

Just like that.

He didn’t even act like anything happened last night. Just calm and collected. Like every other time he’d kissed me without permission.

Except this time around, I’d given him the permission to kiss me.

After he left, I stood frozen for awhile, wondering if he’d keep doing this. Kissing me and acting like it was nothing.

Behind me, a different staff member -

older woman - gestured toward the table. "Please, Mr. Oliver, sit and eat. You’ll need your strength for the search today."

Right. Breakfast. Food.

I sat at the table - several seats away from where Maxwell had been sitting - and stared at the spread before me. Fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, bacon, toast, juice, coffee. Enough food to feed a small army.

But I barely tasted any of it.

All I could think about was the memory of Maxwell’s mouth on mine.

And the impossible situation I was trapped in.

After forcing down what I could, I stood and made my way to the front entrance.

True to Maxwell’s word, a car was waiting, with a professional-looking driver standing beside it.

"Mr. Oliver?" He opened the back door for me. "I’m Jones. Mr. Wellington has instructed me to take you anywhere you need to go today in the search for Miss Mitchell."

Miss Mitchell. Wow. I never even called her that.

"Thank you, Jones," I said, sliding into the backseat. "Let’s go."

As the car pulled away from the mansion, I prayed to myself: *Please let today be the day we find her. Please let this nightmare end today. Before I lose what’s left of my sanity. Before I do something even more stupid than I’ve already done.*

Before I completely fall for Maxwell, and involve myself in a triangle with my stranger.