CHAPTER 51: CHAPTER 51

Olivia’s POV

Sabrina’s eyes narrowed as she studied Maxwell’s face, then slowly turned to look at me. The silence was a bit tense until she let out a laugh that sounded more like a bark.

"You know what, baby, If I didn’t know you as someone who enjoys having a very good time in bed, I would’ve thought you were gay right there."

The words hit the dinner table like a slap. Maxwell’s hand tightened around his wine glass as his entire body went rigid. His face drained of color, then flushed a deep red that spread down his neck.

"Excuse me?" His voice was deadly quiet.

"The way you’re looking at your little assistant," Sabrina continued with a cruel smile, gesturing toward me with her wine glass. "It’s almost... intimate. Like you’re undressing him with your eyes."

Maxwell’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he shot to his feet, his good hand braced against the table. "That’s enough."

"Oh, come on, darling," Sabrina laughed, apparently oblivious to the fury radiating from Maxwell. "I’m just teasing. Though you have to admit, you’ve been staring at Oliver more than you’ve looked at me all evening."

"I said that’s enough," Maxwell repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

But I wasn’t listening to their argument anymore. My mind was spinning with Sabrina’s observation. *Had Maxwell really been looking at me that way? Had she actually noticed something, or was she just being malicious?*

The thought sent a confusing rush of heat through my body as I also wondered what this cold-hearted man enjoyed most in bed. Was he fast? Slow? Attentive to detail?

*Stop wondering, Olivia!*

Maxwell threw his napkin down on his plate and walked away from the table without another word, his footsteps echoing through the dining room.

Sabrina immediately became apologetic, her hands flying to her chest in dramatic remorse. "Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry everyone! Sometimes I just speak without thinking. You know how I get when I’ve had wine." She stood up quickly, smoothing down her dress. "I should go apologize. I actually prepared a special surprise for him in the bedroom tonight." Her smile turned mischievous. "A little welcome home gift that should put him in a much better mood."

She hurried after Maxwell, calling out, "Darling! Wait! Let me make it up to you!"

Alex and I sat in stunned silence for a moment, listening to Sabria running up the staircase.

Alex cleared his throat and caught my eye, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "I think that’s our cue to leave."

I nodded immediately, grateful for the escape route. "Definitely."

He glanced at his watch and frowned. "It’s only seven PM. Listen, Oliver, do you want to grab a drink somewhere? Have some guys’ time? I could use a drink after... whatever that was."

*Guys’ time.* Of course I’d love a guy’s time. After the roller coaster of this entire day, I needed to unwind more than I needed to maintain my perfect Oliver disguise.

"That sounds perfect," I said, my voice coming out more grateful than I’d intended. "I really need a drink after today."

One of Maxwell’s security team drove us back to where Alex had parked his car earlier. The ride was quiet, both of us apparently processing the dinner disaster in our own ways.

We got to Alex’s elegant and sporty car, and I took the passenger seat beside him.

As he pulled out of the parking spot, he glanced at me with a concerned look.

"Are you okay? That whole scene with Sabrina was unexpected."

"I’m fine. Just not used to that kind of... drama." *Like you’re not drama yourself.* I scoffed inwardly.

"Yeah, Sabrina can be a lot sometimes," Alex said. "She means well, but she doesn’t always think before she speaks."

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up outside a trendy bar called "The Black Vine." The place had dim lighting, with live music playing from the background. It was crowded but not packed.

Alex found us a high table near the bar with a good view of the room. "What’s your poison?" he asked, flagging down the bartender.

"Whiskey," I said without thinking. "Neat."

Alex raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. He ordered two whiskeys and settled back in his chair, his blue eyes scanning the room.

The bar had a decent crowd of very attractive people. Groups of women clustered around tables, laughing and dancing to the music. Several of them had already noticed Alex - I could see them whispering and stealing glances in our direction.

Alex was clearly enjoying the attention, his gaze moving from one group of women to the next. A blonde in a red dress caught his eye and gave him a flirtatious wave, which he returned with a charming smile.

But I wasn’t paying attention to any of that. My mind kept drifting back to that moment at dinner when Sabrina had made her observation about Maxwell’s behavior.

*Had he really been looking at me like that? And if he had, what did it mean?*

The thought was absurd on multiple levels. First, Maxwell clearly despised Oliver Hopton. He’d spent the entire day finding new ways to humiliate and torment me. Second, even if he was attracted to Oliver, that would mean he was attracted to men, which seemed... unlikely. And third, even if both of those impossible things were true, it would mean Maxwell Wellington was attracted to me while having no idea I was actually the woman he claimed to find toxic, manipulative, and too bad for his ’dear friend.’

*The whole thing is completely impossible,* I told myself firmly. *Sabrina was just being cruel. Maxwell could never harbor feelings for someone like Oliver, whom he humiliates and stresses out constantly. It’s not possible in this universe or anywhere else.*

*Not only does Maxwell hate Oliver, but he also hates Olivia. Isn’t that part of the reason I’m working for him in the first place? To find out why he has such hatred toward me?*

"Oliver?"

Alex’s voice cut through my brooding. I looked up to find him studying me with concern.

"Are you okay? You seem very distant."

"Sorry," I said, taking a sip of my whiskey and trying to focus. "Just processing everything from today."

Alex nodded understandingly, then glanced around the bar again. His eyes lingered on a brunette in a tight black dress who was dancing with her friends near the center of the room.

"She’s beautiful," he said appreciatively. "Look at the way she moves."

I followed his gaze and nodded politely. "Very nice."

Alex turned back to me with a curious expression. "You know, Oliver, I’ve noticed something about you."

*Oh God. Here it comes. He’s figured out I’m a woman. This is it. My cover is blown.*

"What’s that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You never look at girls," Alex said, leaning forward slightly. "I mean, we’re surrounded by gorgeous women, and you barely glance in their direction. Aren’t you attracted to women at all?"

The question hit me like a hurricane. My mind scrambled for a response that wouldn’t implicate me, but nothing was forthcoming.

"I... what do you mean?" I stalled, buying time to think.

"I mean exactly what I said," Alex continued, his tone curious rather than judgmental. "Every straight guy I know would be checking out at least half the women in here. But you seem completely uninterested. Which is fine, of course," he added quickly. "I’m just curious."

*Think, Olivia. Think fast.*

"I’m just... particular," I said finally. "I don’t go for the obvious choices. I prefer women with more... substance."

*Please let that be vague enough to satisfy him.*

Alex smiled. "Ah, you’re one of those guys who values personality over looks. I respect that. Though I have to say," he glanced around the room again, "some of these ladies might have both beauty and brains."

"Maybe," I said, taking another sip of whiskey.

"So what’s your type then?" Alex pressed. "Brunettes? Blondes? Redheads? Reserved? Wild? Give me something to work with here."

*My type is you, you gorgeous, unavailable man,* I thought desperately. *My type is tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed, and completely out of reach.*

"I guess I like..." I searched for words that would describe someone completely unlike anyone in this bar, "intelligent women. Independent. Maybe a little mysterious. Not the type who throws themselves at every guy they meet."

Alex nodded thoughtfully. "The strong, silent type. I get that. Those are the ones worth waiting for."

*If only you knew how long I’ve been waiting.*

"What about you?" I asked, trying to take his attention away from me. "What’s your type? Besides gorgeous blondes who are engaged to you, obviously."

Alex laughed, but I noticed a shadow pass across his face at the mention of his engagement. "Vanessa is... she’s perfect. Beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated. Everything I could want in a partner."

Something in his tone made me look at him more carefully. "But?"

"But nothing," Alex said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "She’s amazing. I’m lucky to have her."

*That didn’t sound like a man completely happy with his choice.*

We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping our drinks and watching the crowd. An upbeat music was playing now, and more people were dancing.

"Can I ask you something, Oliver?" Alex said suddenly.

*Here we go again.*

"Sure."

"What do you think about Maxwell and Sabrina?"

The question caught me off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do they look right together to you? Happy?"

I thought about the tension at dinner, the way Maxwell had reacted to Sabrina’s comments, the obvious disconnect between them.

"Honestly? No," I said. "They seem like they’re playing roles rather than actually bonding together."

Alex nodded slowly. "That’s what I think too. Maxwell deserves someone who actually sees him, you know? Not someone who just wants to be with him for the prestige or the money."

*Someone who sees him.* The phrase stuck in my mind. Did I see Maxwell? Did I understand who he really was beneath the arrogant, controlling exterior?

"Do you think Sabrina really cares about him?" I asked.

Alex was quiet for a long moment, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "I think Sabrina cares about the idea of Maxwell. The successful CEO, the powerful man, the lifestyle he can provide. But Maxwell himself? The real person?" He shrugged. "I’m not so sure."

*But who is the real Maxwell, then? The Love Coach? The arrogant and cruel CEO? Or the man who cares about his best friends, including his cat.*

For a moment, I was tempted to ask Alex about Maxwell’s double life as a love coach, but Alex might not even be aware of it, which might lead to possible suspicions about how I came about that information. Infact, it might finally blow my cover and Maxwell might then realize i was truly Olivia.

I rather keep my mouth shut and do my findings myself.