CHAPTER 33: CHAPTER 33

Olivia’s POV

"First," Maxwell began, moving back to lean against his desk with his arms crossed, "you will fetch my coffee every morning on your way to work. I take it black, from Taylor’s Cafe across the street. Not the chain coffee place downstairs, not whatever swill you might prefer - Taylor’s. They know my order."

*Of course he has a specific coffee place. Of course he can’t just drink normal coffee like a normal human being.*

"You will arrive at the office no later than 8:15 AM to ensure my coffee is on my desk by 8:30," he continued. "This is non-negotiable."

I nodded, making mental notes. "Understood, sir."

"Second," his eyes were fixed on me like lasers, "you will carry my briefcase, laptop bag, and any other luggage I may require transport for. I shouldn’t have to burden myself with such menial tasks when I have an assistant."

*A pack mule. He wants me to be his personal pack mule.*

"Of course, Mr. Wellington," I said through gritted teeth.

"Third, you will not leave this office until I leave. I don’t care if your shift technically ends at five PM. If I’m working late, you’re working late. If I decide to stay until midnight, you’ll be right here beside me."

*Until midnight? Is he insane? Does he think I don’t have a life outside of this office?*

"That’s... quite a commitment," I managed to say.

Maxwell smiled coldly. "I’m a very committed employer, Mr. Hopton. I expect the same level of dedication from my employees."

*Dedication. Right. More like slaves.*

"Fourth," he continued, clearly enjoying himself, "you must be available to travel with me on business trips at a moment’s notice. This may require overnight stays, weekend travel, and extended periods away from the city. I trust this won’t conflict with your... family obligations?"

’Family obligations’ again? He was definitely testing me.

*Business trips? Overnight stays? Oh God, the thought of being trapped in a hotel with this man for days on end, disguised as Oliver’s...*

"I can make myself available for business travel," I replied without thinking too much.

"Excellent." Maxwell pushed off from his desk and began pacing around me like a shark circling its prey. "Fifth, you will occasionally need to run errands to my residence to retrieve files from my home office. I’ll provide you with a key and the security codes."

*He’s going to give me access to his house? This could actually be useful for my investigation. Maybe I can figure out more about his mysterious girlfriend, or find evidence of his constant hatred towards me.*

"That won’t be a problem," I said, trying not to sound too eager.

"I’m sure it won’t be," he said dryly. "Sixth, and this is very important, you will handle all masculine maintenance tasks around this office."

I blinked. "I’m sorry, what?"

"Fixing the copy machine when it jams, changing light bulbs, repairing the sink if it backs up, moving heavy furniture - that sort of thing." Maxwell stopped pacing and faced me directly. "I can’t have random maintenance workers tramping through my office. Competitors are everywhere, Mr. Hopton. I can’t have them snooping around my confidential files."

*Is he serious? He wants me to be his personal handyman too? What’s next, does he want me to mow his lawn and wash his car?*

"I... I’m not sure I’m qualified for extensive repair work," I said weakly.

"You’re a man, aren’t you?" His eyebrow arched slightly. "Surely you can handle basic mechanical tasks. Or are you telling me you’re not capable of such things?"

The challenge in his voice made my blood boil. He was practically daring me to admit I couldn’t do ’masculine’ tasks, which of course I couldn’t do because I wasn’t actually a man. But I couldn’t say that without blowing my cover entirely.

*You bastard. You absolute, manipulative bastard.*

"I can handle basic repairs," I lied smoothly.

"Good. Seventh, you will screen all my calls and meetings. No one gets through to me without your approval first. You’ll also manage my calendar, reschedule appointments as needed, and ensure I’m never double-booked."

*Finally, something that actually sounds like a normal assistant duty.*

"That’s very reasonable," I said.

"Eighth," he continued without pause, "you will accompany me to all business dinners, client meetings, and social functions related to work. You’ll take notes, handle logistics, and ensure everything runs smoothly."

*More time trapped with him. Wonderful.*

"Ninth, you will maintain absolute confidentiality about everything you see, hear, or learn while working for me. This includes my personal life, my business dealings, my relationships, and my private matters. Discretion is not just expected, Mr. Hopton - it’s mandatory."

Something in his tone made me look at him more carefully. Was he talking about his love therapy practice? His mysterious girlfriend? Or something else entirely?

"I understand the importance of confidentiality," I said.

"Are you sure you actually understand?" Maxwell stepped closer again, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because some secrets, Mr. Hopton, are more dangerous than others. Some secrets can destroy careers, ruin lives, tear apart families. I need to know that you understand the gravity of what I’m telling you."

*What the hell kind of secrets was he talking about? And why did I suddenly feel like I was getting myself into something much more complicated than I’d bargained for?*

"I take confidentiality very seriously," I assured him.

"Excellent." He straightened up. "Tenth, you will handle all my personal appointments - doctor visits, dry cleaning pickup, restaurant reservations, gift purchases for family members and... special friends."

*Special friends. He means his girlfriend. The one who canceled her trip and sent him into the rage that got me fired in the first place. Of course, I’ll gladly do that. And maybe destroy his relationship while at it, since he’s so bent on ruining mine.*

"Personal appointments. Got it."

"And finally," Maxwell said, moving back behind his desk and settling into his chair like a king on his throne, "you will do all of this with a smile, with happiness, and without complaint. Because Mr. Hopton, if you prove yourself capable of handling these responsibilities, you’ll find the compensation quite generous."

He slid a piece of paper across his desk toward me. "Your salary."

I picked up the paper and nearly choked. The number written there was more than double what I’d been making as a junior associate. It was more money than I’d ever imagined making in my entire career.

*Holy shit. Holy actual shit. This was enough money to buy a new car. To move Kira and me into a bigger apartment - maybe even one of those luxury places with a doorman and a gym. This was life-changing money.*

But as I stared at the figure, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was making a deal with the devil himself.

"This is..." I started, then stopped, not trusting my male voice.

"Generous?" Maxwell supplied, leaning back in his chair with satisfaction. "I believe in paying well for quality service, Mr. Hopton. The question is - are you capable of providing quality service?"

I looked up from the paper to find him watching me intently, as if my answer would determine not just my employment but my entire future.

*I could put up with his ridiculous demands for this kind of money. I could fetch his precious coffee, carry his bags, fix his copy machine, and pretend to be his devoted assistant. Hell, for this salary, I could probably even pretend to like him.*

*And while I was doing all of that, I’d be gathering information about him. Learning his secrets, finding his weaknesses, figuring out exactly why he seemed to have such a personal vendetta against me. This wasn’t just a job - it was the perfect cover for my investigation.*

*Plus, the thought of Kira’s face when I told her we could afford a place with actual closet space and a kitchen bigger than a phone booth...*

"Yes, Mr. Wellington," I said, folding the paper and slipping it into my jacket pocket. "I’m very capable of providing quality service."

Maxwell’s smile was dangerous, like the devil’s. "We’ll see about that, won’t we, Mr. Hopton?"

I sat there looking at him - this arrogant, demanding, infuriating man who was about to become my boss - I couldn’t help but think that he had no idea what he’d just gotten himself into.

*You want to play games, Maxwell Wellington? Fine. Let’s play. But don’t come crying to me when you realize you’ve invited the enemy right into your inner circle.*

*Just try not to kill him before the first paycheck clears,* I reminded myself. *That new apartment isn’t going to pay for itself.*