CHAPTER 45: CHAPTER 45

Olivia’s POV

The words sounded like a time bomb. *Like Olivia.* My hand, which had been on his zipper, suddenly moved of its own will - straight toward his balls.

"What the...!" Maxwell started, his voice a strangled groan as my palm made contact with his heavy balls.

The moment I realized where my hand had landed, pure horror washed over me. *Oh my God. Oh my actual God. I just grabbed Maxwell Wellington’s...*

"I’M SO SORRY!" I shrieked, jerking my hand back as if his pants were on fire.

Maxwell’s face went through about twenty-six different expressions in the span of two seconds - shock, confusion, pain, and something that might have been... arousal? But I didn’t stick around to analyze it further.

I bolted from the bathroom like my life depended on it, which it probably did.

"HOPTON!" Maxwell’s voice bellowed behind me, filled with outrage. "GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!"

But I was already out of his office, my legs carrying me down the hallway as I ran for my dear life. My face was burning with pure embarrassment that I was surprised I hadn’t combusted.

*I grabbed him. I actually grabbed Maxwell Wellington’s balls. Oh God, I’m going to die. I’m going to literally die from mortification.*

"HOPTON!" His voice echoed through the hallway again, more furious this time. "DON’T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME, I’M NOT DONE HERE!"

But walking away was exactly what I was doing - well, more like running away.

I needed help. I needed someone, anyone, to handle this situation because I clearly could not be trusted around Maxwell Wellington’s pants without causing a complete disaster.

Without thinking, I burst through the door to Alex’s office, my chest heaving and my hair probably looking like I’d been electrocuted.

Alex looked up from his computer, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm. "Oliver? What’s wrong? Did something bad happen?"

"Mr. Wellington," I gasped, trying to catch my breath while maintaining my Oliver voice. "He needs... he needs help. Bathroom. Emergency."

Alex was on his feet instantly, his face filled with concern. "What kind of emergency? Is he hurt? Did he fall?"

"He’s..." I struggled to find words that wouldn’t reveal what had actually happened. "He can’t... his arm... he needs assistance with..."

"Say no more," Alex said quickly, already heading for the door. "His injuries must be worse than we thought. Come on, let’s go help him."

*No, no, no!* I wanted to scream. *That’s not what I meant! Don’t make me go back there!*

But Alex was already rushing to help his friend in need, and I had no choice but to follow him, my stomach twisting with dread.

"MAX!" Alex called out as we approached Maxwell’s office. "Are you okay? Oliver said you needed help!"

We burst through the office door together, Alex in the lead and me hiding slightly behind him like a coward.

The sight that greeted us was... well, it wasn’t what Alex was expecting.

Maxwell was standing in the doorway of his bathroom, his face flushed with fury and something else entirely. His belt was unbuckled, hanging loosely around his waist, and his shirt was slightly disheveled. But most importantly, he was clearly fine - not collapsed on the floor or having some kind of medical emergency.

Alex stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the scene.

Then he started laughing.

Not just a little chuckle - full, belly-deep laughter that echoed throughout the office.

"Oh my God," Alex gasped between fits of laughter. "Maxwell Wellington, did you just have your assistant run away screaming because you needed help with your pants?"

Maxwell’s jaw tightened dangerously. "It’s not funny, Alex."

"It’s hilarious!" Alex wiped tears from his eyes. "Mr. Big Shot CEO can’t manage his own zipper and traumatizes his poor assistant in the process!"

"Alex," Maxwell warned, his voice low and threatening.

But Alex was still laughing, apparently finding the whole situation incredibly amusing. "What did you do, Maxwell? Did you ask him to..."

"I asked him to help me with a little thing I couldn’t manage with one arm," Maxwell cut him off, his voice tight with anger. "It was just a simple request."

Alex looked between Maxwell and me, his laughter finally subsiding as he seemed to pick up on the tension in the room.

"Oh," he said, his expression becoming more serious. "Oh, I see. You needed... bathroom assistance."

"Yes," Maxwell said through gritted teeth. "And Mr. Hopton decided to flee rather than provide support."

That’s when Maxwell’s eyes found mine across the room, and the intensity in his gaze made my knees go weak. Not in a good way - in a terrified, about-to-collapse way.

"However," Maxwell continued, his voice dropping lower, "Mr. Hopton also decided to... grab things that didn’t require grabbing."

Alex’s eyebrows shot up again. "He grabbed what?"

"Nothing!" I squeaked in a loud voice. "I didn’t grab anything! It was an accident!"

"An accident," Maxwell repeated slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Right."

Alex looked between us again, clearly trying to piece together what had actually happened. "Okay, you know what? This is clearly a misunderstanding that I don’t need to be in the middle of."

He turned to Maxwell with a grin. "Max, you clearly don’t need medical attention. You need a different kind of assistance that I’m definitely not qualified to provide."

"Alex," Maxwell’s voice held a warning.

"And Oliver," Alex turned to me with a sympathetic smile, "maybe next time just call for backup immediately instead of trying to handle... intimate assistance... on your own."

"It wasn’t intimate!" I protested frantically. "It was medical! I was just trying to help!"

"I’m sure you were," Alex said. "But maybe we should establish some boundaries about what kind of help you’re comfortable providing."

Maxwell’s expression darkened further. "Mr. Hopton is my personal assistant. Personal assistance includes helping with tasks I cannot physically manage myself."

"That’s true," Alex agreed. "But it also includes knowing when to call for backup. Like a nurse, or maybe Patricia..."

"Patricia is not my assistant," Maxwell snapped. "Mr. Hopton is."

"Right, but maybe for bathroom stuff..." Alex started.

"GET OUT!" Maxwell suddenly exploded, his voice echoing through the office. "Both of you, get out! I’ll handle this myself!"

Alex held up his hands peacefully. "Okay, okay. We’re going."

He grabbed my arm gently and started steering me toward the door. "Come on, Oliver. Let’s give Maxwell some space to cool down."

As we reached the doorway, Maxwell’s cold voice stopped us.

"Mr. Hopton."

I turned reluctantly, dreading whatever he was about to say.

"We will deal with this mess later."

I nodded weakly, not trusting my voice to remain steady.

Alex pulled me out of the office and closed the door firmly behind us.

Once we were outside in the hallway, he turned to me with an amused expression.

"Oliver," he said gently, "what the hell actually happened in there?"

I looked up at him, "Nothing out of the ordinary happened at all. It was an accident, I swear!"

"Come on," he said, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Let’s get some coffee and let Maxwell work out his... issues on his own."