CHAPTER 36: CHAPTER 36

Olivia’s POV

The cafeteria was bustling with co-workers when I arrived. Everyone was clustered around tables - chatting and gossiping over their meals.

I looked around, Alex was nowhere in sight. Good.

I grabbed a tray and loaded it with turkey sandwich, some fruit, and a bottle of water.

Then I found an empty table by the window, as far away from the main crowd as possible. The last thing I needed was to accidentally sit near anyone that’ll draw me into conversations about my working relationship with Maxwell.

*Or run into Patricia,* I thought, scanning the room nervously. I needed to keep my distance from that woman. I honestly don’t know what she finds attractive about me.

I’d just taken my first bite of sandwich when a tray clattered down across from me.

I looked up and nearly choked on my food.

Patricia.

*Of course. Of course she found me.*

"Mind if I join you, Oliver?" she asked, though she was already settling into the chair across from me. Her hair was down now in soft waves, an extra button undone on her blouse, and a smile that could only be described as sultry.

*Oh no. Oh hell no.*

"Of course not," I managed, my voice cracking slightly. I quickly cleared my throat and tried again. "I mean, please, feel free."

*Maybe she’s just being friendly. Maybe I’m imagining the flirtatious vibes. Maybe...*

"You know, Oliver," Patricia said, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand, "I was thinking about you all morning."

*Nope. Not imagining it.*

"Oh?" I squeaked, then coughed to cover the extremely un-masculine sound.

"Mmm-hmm." She unwrapped her sandwich slowly, her eyes never leaving my face. "There’s something so... intriguing about you. So mysterious."

*If only she knew exactly how mysterious.*

I took a large bite of my sandwich, hoping that chewing would give me time to think of an appropriate response. Unfortunately, Patricia seemed to interpret my inability to speak as some kind of strong, silent type behavior.

"I love a man who’s not afraid of comfortable silence," she purred, reaching across the table to brush an imaginary crumb from my sleeve. Her fingers lingered on my arm. "Tell me, Oliver, are you seeing anyone?"

I nearly inhaled my sandwich. "I’m sorry, what?"

"Are you single?" Patricia’s smile grew wider. "Because I know all the best restaurants in the city, and I think a handsome young man like yourself shouldn’t be eating lunch alone."

*Handsome young man. Oh God, she thinks Oliver is attractive. This is a nightmare. This company is filled with masculine handsome men, why me!!! Oh God.*

"I’m... well, I’m actually..." I fumbled for words, desperately trying to think of an excuse that wouldn’t encourage her further.

"Focusing on your career?" Patricia nodded knowingly. "I completely understand. But you know what they say about all work and no play..."

She actually winked at me. WINKED.

I was frantically scanning the cafeteria for an escape route when my eyes landed on a figure across the room.

Maxwell Wellington was sitting alone at a corner table, stabbing his salad with the concentrated fury of a man who’d rather be stabbing his enemies. His expression was thunderous, his jaw set in that dangerous way that screamed ’Back off!’ - probably still sulking about his girlfriend.

*Perfect.*

"You know what, Patricia," I said, standing up so quickly I nearly knocked over my chair, "I just remembered I need to discuss something urgent with Mr. Wellington."

Patricia’s face fell. "Oh, but Oliver, we were just getting to know each other..."

"Rain check?" I said weakly, already backing away from the table. "I really can’t keep him waiting."

Before she could protest further, I grabbed my tray and practically sprinted across the cafeteria toward Maxwell’s table.

*I’d rather dine with the devil himself than endure another minute of Patricia’s sultry looks.*

I approached Maxwell’s table like a condemned man walking to the gallows.

"Mr. Wellington?" I said carefully. "I hope you don’t mind if I join you. The cafeteria is quite crowded today."

Maxwell looked up from his salad, his green eyes cold. For a moment, I thought he might tell me to go away. But then his gaze shifted to something behind me, and his expression grew even more dangerous.

"By all means, Mr. Hopton," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Please, sit."

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Patricia watching us with disappointment. She raised her hand in a little wave, and I quickly turned back around, my cheeks burning.

"Running away from something, are we?" Maxwell asked.

"I wasn’t running," I protested, settling into my chair and trying to ignore the way Maxwell’s eyes seemed to see right through me. "I just... needed to discuss work matters."

"Work matters." Maxwell scoffed. "How convenient. And what work matters would those be, exactly?"

I scrambled for something work-related to say. "The... the filing system. I wanted to ask about your preferred organizational method."

"My preferred organizational method." Maxwell repeated each word slowly, as if tasting them. "Mr. Hopton, I find it fascinating that you suddenly developed such urgent concerns about filing systems the moment Patricia started showing interest in you."

My face went hot. "I don’t know what you mean."

"You don’t?" Maxwell leaned back in his chair. "But it looked like you were fleeing from the advances of a woman who finds you... appealing."

*How does he know? How does he always know everything?*

"Patricia was just being friendly," I muttered, staring down at my sandwich.

"Friendly." Maxwell actually chuckled. "Is that what we’re calling it? Because I’m fairly certain that when a woman loosens her hair, unbuttons her blouse, and starts asking about your relationship status, she’s moved well beyond friendly territory."

I glanced up at him in horror. "You saw all that?"

"Mr. Hopton, I make it my business to observe everything that happens in my domain. And what I observed was my new assistant running away from a perfectly lovely woman as if she were wielding a chainsaw."

*Because she might as well have been, considering how terrifying the situation was for someone who’s supposed to be a man but is actually a woman in disguise!*

"I’m just... focused on my work," I said weakly. "Like you said, I need to prove myself."

Maxwell’s eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me you’re not interested in women, Mr. Hopton?"

The question sounded like a bomb waiting to explode. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs as I realized the trap I’d walked into. If I said yes, I was interested in women, he’d want to know why I ran from Patricia. If I said no... well, that opened up a whole different can of worms that Oliver Hopton wasn’t prepared to deal with.

"I’m just... selective," I finally managed.

"Selective? Wow, that’s interesting. And what, exactly, are your kind of women?"

*Why is he interrogating me about my love life? This is torture.*

"I prefer to keep my personal and professional lives separate," I said, hoping to sound mature and responsible.

"Admirable," Maxwell said, though his tone suggested he found it anything but. "Though I have to wonder... what kind of man runs away from an attractive woman who’s clearly interested in him? Most men would consider that a stroke of good fortune."

I could feel sweat beginning to bead on my forehead. "Maybe I’m not most men."

"No," Maxwell said softly, his green eyes boring into mine. "You’re certainly not."

There was something in his voice, something dangerous and knowing, that made my stomach drop. Did he suspect something? Was he testing me?

"I should get back to work," I said, starting to stand up.

"Sit down, Mr. Hopton." Maxwell said authoritatively. "We’re not finished here."

I sat back down, my legs suddenly feeling weak.

"You know," Maxwell continued, "People react to attraction differently. Some people embrace it, some deflect it, and some people..." His eyes locked with mine. "Some people run from it as if their lives depend on it."

*Because my life DOES depend on it! If Patricia figured out I’m not actually a man, this whole charade would come crashing down!*

"I don’t run from anything," I said, trying to inject some steel into my voice.

"Really?" Maxwell’s smile was dangerous. "Then why don’t you go back over to Patricia’s table and finish your lunch with her? I’m sure she’s waiting for you."

I glanced over at Patricia’s table. She was indeed watching us, hope written all over her face.

"I’d rather eat with you, sir," I said, the words tasting like mud in my mouth.

"Would you? How flattering." He said mockingly. "Though I have to say, Mr. Hopton, your preference for dining with your demanding boss over an attractive woman who’s clearly interested in you raises some interesting questions."

*What kind of questions? Oh God, what is he implying?*

"I just think it’s important to maintain professional relationships," I said desperately.

"Professional relationships." He nodded. "Yes, I suppose that’s one way to look at it. Though most people would argue that having lunch with a colleague isn’t exactly unprofessional."

I was trapped. Every word out of my mouth seemed to dig me deeper into whatever hole Maxwell was leading me toward.

"Perhaps," Maxwell said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "you should ask yourself why you’re so afraid of a woman’s interest, Mr. Hopton."

Before I could respond, he stood up, gathering his tray.

"Lunch break is over," he announced. "I trust you can find your way back to the office without getting distracted by any more... friendly colleagues."

He walked away, leaving me sitting alone at the table, my heart racing.

*What just happened? Why do I feel like I just failed some kind of test I didn’t even know I was taking?*

As I made my way back to the elevator, I could feel Patricia’s disappointed gaze following me. And somewhere behind me, I was certain Maxwell Wellington was watching too. Watching to see my reaction to Patricia.

*One day down,* I thought as the elevator doors closed. *Twenty-nine to go.*

*And I’m already wondering if I’ll survive to see day two.*