CHAPTER 44: CHAPTER 44

Olivia’s POV

The fork clattered against his plate as my entire world turned upside down. My hands were shaking so violently I could barely maintain my grip on anything.

*Olivia Hopton.*

*He knew. He fucking knew.*

Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run. To bolt from this office, sprint down the hallway, and never look back. But when I started to stand up, pushing back from his desk, Maxwell’s left hand shot out and gripped my wrist.

"Where are you going, Mr. Hopton?" he asked calmly, his fingers pressing against my pulse point. "I haven’t finished my lunch yet."

His touch burned through my skin, making me feel hot all over. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs, and I was sure he could feel it too through my wrist.

"I... I thought you were done eating." I stammered weakly.

"Not at all," Maxwell replied, his grip not leaving my hand. "We were simply having a conversation. Please, sit back down."

It wasn’t a request. It was a command.

I sank back into my chair like a deflated balloon, my mind racing through every possible escape route and finding them all blocked. Maxwell released my wrist but kept his eyes fixed on my face.

"Now then," he continued, accepting another bite of salmon as if he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in my life, "where were we? Ah yes, the striking resemblance between you and that young lady."

I tried to keep my hands steady as I cut his vegetables, but they were trembling so badly I nearly dropped the knife.

"It’s... it’s probably just a coincidence, sir," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Probably," Maxwell agreed, chewing calmly. "Though I have to ask, Mr. Hopton - do you have any sisters?"

My eyes snapped up to meet his - totally shocked by the question - and I saw the trap he was setting for me. Whatever I said next would either save me or destroy me completely.

"No, sir," I said quickly, shaking my head. "I’m an only child."

"Interesting." Maxwell tilted his head, accepting another forkful of food. "Olivia is an only child as well. My friend mentioned it."

*Shit. Shit, shit, shit.*

"People... people look like other people all the time," I said desperately, trying to keep my voice from cracking. "It happens. Doppelgängers and all that."

"Very true," he nodded. "I suppose it’s also perfectly natural for two unrelated people to not only look identical but also share the exact same name. Olivia Hopton and Oliver Hopton. What are the odds?"

I could hear the amusement in his voice, the cat-and-mouse game he was playing with me. He was enjoying this. The bastard was actually enjoying watching me squirm.

But I wasn’t going down without a fight.

"Actually, sir," I said, forcing some strength into my voice, "I do have a cousin named Olivia Hopton. We don’t talk much anymore - family drama, you know how it is. But maybe that’s who you met?"

Maxwell’s eyebrows rose with interest. "A cousin? How interesting. Tell me about her."

*Oh God, I’m about to describe myself to myself while pretending to be someone else. This is insane.*

"Well," I began carefully, "she’s... she’s about my age. Dark hair, brown eyes. She’s a lawyer, like you mentioned. Works downtown, I think. We used to be closer when we were kids, but you know how families drift apart..."

"Mmm," Maxwell murmured, accepting another bite. "What else?"

"She’s... um..." I scrambled for details that wouldn’t sound too intimate. "She’s always been a bit dramatic. Emotional. Gets overwhelmed easily. My grandmother always said Olivia felt everything too deeply."

"Dramatic and emotional," Maxwell repeated slowly. "Yes, that sounds exactly like the woman I met. She did have quite the meltdown in Gabriel’s car."

Heat flooded my cheeks at the memory. "Did she?"

"Oh yes. Screaming, jumping out of moving vehicles, generally behaving like someone who’d never been on a proper date before." Maxwell’s voice dripped with disdain. "Your cousin sounds like quite the handful, Mr. Hopton."

I wanted to defend myself - to point out that anyone would have a meltdown after discovering their blind date was their crush’s identical twin brother while being chaperoned by their psychotic boss - but obviously I couldn’t.

"She’s... she’s always been sensitive," I said weakly.

"Sensitive," Maxwell repeated, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "What a small world we live in, don’t you think? Here you are, working as my assistant, and I’ve recently made the acquaintance of your estranged cousin."

"Very small world," I agreed, my voice barely audible.

Maxwell accepted another bite, chewing slowly while never taking his eyes off me. "You know, Mr. Hopton, I feel I should share something with you. About your cousin Olivia."

"Oh?" My stomach clenched with dread.

"She seemed interested in my friend Gabriel. Inappropriately so. In fact, I got the clear impression that she was using Gabriel to get closer to his brother Alex. You know Alex. The one that just stepped out."

"She did that? That’s... that’s terrible," I forced out.

"Yes, it is." Maxwell agreed. "Poor Gabriel is such a romantic. He actually thinks she might be genuinely interested in him. But I can see right through women like your cousin, Mr. Hopton. She’s calculating. Manipulative. The type who collects men like trophies."

Each word felt like a physical slap. I gripped the fork so tightly my knuckles turned white.

"Now," Maxwell continued, leaning forward, "I’m going to tell you a secret, Mr. Hopton. Something I haven’t shared with anyone else."

"A secret?" I whispered.

"I’m currently in the process of finding Gabriel a much more suitable woman. Someone refined, elegant, composed - everything your cousin is not." Maxwell’s smile turned evil. "In fact, I’ve already identified the perfect candidate. Beautiful, sophisticated, from a good family. She’ll be at Alex’s engagement party this Saturday."

My heart was pounding so hard I was surprised it wasn’t audible across the room.

"That’s... that’s very thoughtful of you, sir."

"I pride myself on looking out for my friends," Maxwell said smugly. "Which brings me to a favor I’d like to ask of you, Mr. Hopton."

*Oh no. Please no.*

"Anything, sir."

"I need you to pass a message along to your cousin Olivia. Tell her to back off from Gabriel. Tell her that whatever little game she’s playing won’t work, because I won’t let it work. Gabriel deserves better than someone who’s clearly using him to get to someone else."

The rage building inside me was so intense I could barely see straight. How dare he? How fucking dare he sit there and tear me apart while I fed him lunch? How dare he assume the worst about my intentions while plotting to sabotage my relationship behind my back?

"I’ll... I’ll be sure to pass that along," I managed through gritted teeth.

"Excellent." Maxwell accepted another bite. "I knew I could count on you, Mr. Hopton. Family or not, I’m sure you can see that your cousin isn’t right for Gabriel."

"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. "I mean, why are you so against Olivia specifically?"

Maxwell paused, studying my face intently. For a moment, I thought he might see through my disguise entirely.

"She gives off negative energy," he said finally. "The moment she stepped into the car, I could feel it. Desperation, neediness, instability. Women like that are toxic, Mr. Hopton. They drag good men down with them."

*Negative energy. Toxic. Desperate.*

I wanted to stab him with his own fork.

Instead, I forced a nod. "I understand, sir."

"I thought you might." Maxwell sat back, looking pleased with himself. "You strike me as someone who values loyalty and integrity. Unlike your cousin."

We continued in silence for several more minutes, with me feeding him while fury burned through my veins. Every bite felt like torture, every insult about "my cousin" felt like another knife to the gut.

Finally, Maxwell finished the last of his vegetables and accepted a sip of water from the glass I held to his lips.

"Excellent lunch, Mr. Hopton. You’re quite attentive for someone with no experience as a personal assistant."

"Thank you, sir."

Maxwell shifted in his chair then, wincing slightly at his injury. Then he looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

"I’m afraid I have one more request, Mr. Hopton."

"Of course, sir. What do you need?"

Maxwell glanced down at his lap, then back at me.

"I need to... that is, the bathroom..." He gestured helplessly with his good hand. "But with my arm in this sling, I can’t manage the..."

*Oh my God. He’s not actually going to ask me to...*

"I need you to unzip my pants, Mr. Hopton."

The world stopped again.

I stared at him, my brain completely short-circuiting. "I’m sorry, what?"

"My zipper," Maxwell said flatly. "I can’t manage it with one hand, and I really need to..."

"Sir, I..." I started, already feeling weak. "I don’t think that’s... I mean, surely there’s another way..."

"Mr. Hopton," Maxwell interrupted, "I’m your boss, and I’m injured. This is perfectly acceptable. Unless you’re suggesting I should wet myself rather than ask for a little assistance?"

*This cannot be happening. This absolutely cannot be happening.*

"But sir, maybe Patricia could..."

"Patricia is not my personal assistant," Maxwell cut me off firmly. "You are. And this is exactly the kind of task a personal assistant handles when their boss is incapacitated."

I looked around desperately, as if the office walls might offer some escape route. They didn’t.

"I..." I swallowed hard, my face burning with embarrassment. "Where... where would you like me to...?"

"The executive bathroom, obviously." Maxwell gestured toward the door behind his desk. "It’s more private."

*More private. Because that makes this so much better.*

With shaking legs, I stood up and helped him to his feet, being careful not to jostle his injured arm. He leaned slightly on me as we walked toward his private bathroom, and I was hyperaware of his warmth, his cologne, the solid weight of him against my side.

*This is professional,* I told myself frantically. *This is just helping an injured colleague. People do this kind of thing in hospitals all the time. It’s medical. It’s practical. It’s...*

*It’s me about to unzip Maxwell Wellington’s pants in a bathroom.*

We reached the bathroom door, and Maxwell turned to face me, his expression unreadable.

"I really do appreciate this, Mr. Hopton," he said quietly. "I know it’s awkward."

"It’s... it’s fine, sir," I lied.

He nodded, then looked down at his belt. "I suppose we should just... get this over with."

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely function as I reached for his belt buckle. This was officially the most mortifying moment of my entire life, and that was saying something given the past few intense weeks.

*Just get through this,* I told myself. *Unzip, step away, let him handle the rest. Simple. Don’t think about anything else.*

But as my fingers fumbled with his belt, I couldn’t help but notice how close we were standing. How I could feel the heat radiating from his body. How his breathing had changed, becoming slightly more shallow.

*Did he just groan softly? Oh God. Why did that give me the tingles?*

*Don’t think about it. Do not think about it. Do NOT think about how this makes you feel.*

I managed to get his belt unbuckled and was reaching for his zipper when Maxwell’s voice stopped me cold.

"You know, Mr. Hopton," he said softly, "you smell exactly like her."

My hand froze halfway to his zipper.

"Like... like who, sir?"

Maxwell’s eyes met mine, and in them I saw pure undiluted heat.

"Like Olivia," he whispered.

My hands involuntarily went for his balls.