CHAPTER 58: CHAPTER 58

Olivia’s POV

The next day, I came into the office with a strong resolve and a hardened heart.

*Maxwell is the Enemy.*

*Maxwell is the Enemy.*

*Maxwell is the Enemy.*

I repeated the mantra like a prayer as I strode through the lobby, holding his coffee in one hand and checking my watch with satisfaction. Not only was I on time - I was five minutes early. Perfect Oliver efficiency.

*Today is going to be different,* I told myself firmly. *No more confusing feelings. No more getting distracted by his stupid green eyes or his stupid lips or his stupid face. Today, I’m going to be professional and nothing more.*

I pushed open the office door, ready to arrange his coffee and files with cool detachment, but then I stopped short.

Maxwell was slumped over his desk, his dark head resting on his arms, snoring softly.

*What the hell?*

I stood frozen in the doorway, staring at him in complete bewilderment. His usually perfect hair was disheveled, his suit was wrinkled, and there were papers scattered around him like he’d been going through them. The injury to his arm looked even more pronounced in this vulnerable position, the sling twisted awkwardly beneath him.

*What was he doing here? Did he come back to the office after leaving early yesterday? Didn’t he go home? What is going on?*

For a moment, I just watched him sleep, and something treacherous stirred in my chest. He looked younger like this, less intimidating. Almost... human.

*No,* I scolded myself. *Enemy. Remember? Enemy who made you work until 7 PM while he supposedly went home to rest.*

I approached his desk cautiously, placing his coffee on the surface as quietly as possible. But I couldn’t resist leaning closer, close enough to see the exhaustion etched in his features, close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne.

*I should wake him up,* I thought. *He’s going to have a crick in his neck if he stays like that much longer.*

I reached out tentatively, my hand hovering just above his shoulder. "Sir?" I whispered softly.

Maxwell jerked awake with such violence that I stumbled backward. His good hand shot out reflexively, knocking into the coffee cup I’d just placed on his desk.

I watched in horror as the hot coffee arced through the air in slow motion, splashing across the documents scattered on his desk - the same documents I’d spent hours meticulously organizing yesterday.

"JESUS CHRIST!" Maxwell thundered, jumping to his feet so quickly his chair rolled backward into the wall. "Are you completely DENSE, Mr. Hopton?"

I stood rooted to the spot, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I... I was just..."

"How could you drop hot coffee on my desk when I was clearly meditating?" he roared, his green eyes blazing with fury. "Do you have any idea what you’ve just destroyed?"

*Meditating? MEDITATING?* "Sir, you were asleep, and I was trying to..."

"Don’t you DARE contradict me!" Maxwell snapped, grabbing papers from his desk and shaking coffee droplets off them. "Look at this mess! These are important documents, not scratch paper!"

Heat flooded my cheeks as I watched him frantically trying to salvage the coffee-soaked files. "Sir, I’m so sorry. I can reprint everything. I saved all the work on the computer last night, so it won’t take long to..."

"I don’t want reprints, Mr. Hopton," Maxwell interrupted, his voice dripping with condescension. "I want HARD COPIES. Original signatures, original typing, original everything. Do you understand the difference, or do I need to draw you a picture?"

*The audacity.* "But sir, most of those documents were just research notes and timelines. I can have them redone in an hour..."

"An HOUR?" Maxwell thundered. "Mr. Hopton, thanks to your clumsiness, you’ve just set this entire case back by days. DAYS of work, ruined because you apparently can’t place a coffee cup on a desk without creating a natural disaster."

I felt my hands clenching into fists at my sides. *This is insane. He’s acting like I intentionally sabotaged his work when HE was the one who knocked over the coffee. HE was the one sleeping at his desk like some kind of vagrant. HE was the one who...*

"Well?" Maxwell demanded, crossing his good arm over his chest. "Are you going to stand there gaping like a goldfish, or are you going to clean up this mess and start over?"

*Clean up the mess.* Of course.

"Yes, sir," I managed through gritted teeth, moving toward the supply closet to get paper towels. "I’ll clean it up right away."

"Good," Maxwell said curtly, settling back into his chair with obvious pain. "And Mr. Hopton? Next time you decide to wake me up, perhaps try using your words instead of hot coffee."

I grabbed a roll of paper towels and returned to his desk, kneeling down to soak up the coffee that had dripped onto the floor. The position put me right at Maxwell’s eye level, and I could feel his gaze boring into the top of my head as I worked.

*This is humiliating,* I thought, scrubbing at coffee stains with more force than necessary. *Absolutely humiliating. Here I am, on my hands and knees, cleaning up a mess that wasn’t even my fault while he sits there acting like the injured party.*

"The files need to be completely redone," Maxwell continued, as if I were a servant receiving instructions rather than a qualified legal professional. "Every timeline, every witness statement, every piece of evidence cross-referenced and organized exactly as it was before your little accident."

*My little accident?* I looked up at him, coffee-soaked paper towels in my hands. "Sir, with all due respect, you were the one who knocked over the..."

"Are you seriously trying to blame me for your mistake right now, Mr. Hopton?"

The incredulous tone in his voice made my blood pressure spike. "It wasn’t my mistake! You woke up startled and your hand hit the cup!"

Maxwell’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "So now it’s MY fault that YOU placed a scalding hot coffee directly in front of me while I was meditating? Is that really the story you want to go with?"

*I can’t believe this. I literally cannot believe this man.*

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the soggy paper towels at his smug face. I wanted to stand up and tell him exactly what I thought of his foggy memory and his complete inability to take responsibility for anything.

Instead, I forced myself to nod. "No, sir. You’re absolutely right. It was my mistake."

*Enemy,* I reminded myself desperately. *He’s the enemy. Just document this for later revenge and move on.*

"I’m glad we understand each other," Maxwell said, "Now, if you could finish cleaning up your mess and get started on those files, I’d appreciate it. Some of us have actual work to do today."

As I turned to walk back to my pathetic little desk, the fury and frustration finally bubbled over. Without thinking, I muttered under my breath, "Fuck you."

The words had barely left my lips when Maxwell’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

"Excuse me?" His tone was deadly quiet. "What did you just say?"

*Oh shit. He heard that?*

I froze halfway to my desk, my heart hammering against my ribs. *Think, Olivia. Think fast.*

I turned around slowly, forcing an expression of confusion onto my face. "I... I said ’fuck me,’ sir. For ever daring to question the boss. I was... I was criticizing myself for being so stupid."

Maxwell studied my face intently, his green eyes searching for any sign of deception. For a moment, I thought he might call my bluff, might demand to know what I’d really said.

Then, slowly, a satisfied smirk spread across his features.

"I thought as much," he said smugly. "It’s good to see you’re finally developing some self-awareness, Mr. Hopton. Perhaps this unfortunate incident will teach you to be more careful in the future."

*Self-awareness. Right. Because I’m clearly the problem here.*

I managed a weak nod. "Yes, sir. It definitely will."

I had just settled at my desk and pulled out the first stack of files to recreate when the office door burst open with such force that it slammed against the wall, slightly hitting my desk in the process.

Sabrina stormed in like a hurricane in designer heels, her blonde hair flying behind her and her face flushed with fury.

"Maxwell Wellington!" she shrieked, not even acknowledging my presence as she marched straight to his desk. "Where the HELL have you been all night?"

My ears perked up immediately, my hands freezing over the keyboard. *All night?*

Maxwell looked up from his papers with an expression of weary resignation, like a man who’d been expecting this confrontation but hoping to avoid it a little longer.

"Good morning to you too, Sabrina," he said dryly. "I’m fine, thank you for asking. My arm is healing nicely."

"Don’t you dare make this about your arm!" Sabrina snapped, placing her hands on his desk and leaning forward. "I’ve been calling you since yesterday evening! Alex has been calling you! We had dinner plans, Maxwell. DINNER PLANS that you completely ignored!"

*Oh shit. This is getting interesting.*

I kept my head down, pretending to be completely absorbed in my work while straining to hear every word.

"I apologize for missing dinner," he said stiffly. "Something came up."

"Something came up? What could possibly have come up that was more important than our evening together? What was so urgent that you couldn’t even bother to call me back?"

Maxwell was quiet for a long moment, his fingers drumming against his desk. When he finally spoke, his voice was controlled.

"I was with a client."

*What!* I looked up sharply, my eyes wide with shock, only to find Maxwell staring directly at me. Our gazes locked for a split second before he quickly looked away, focusing his attention back on his fuming girlfriend.

*What? WHAT?*

My mind raced frantically. *He wasn’t with any clients last night! He left the office at 4 PM and told me to finish everything myself! Where was he really? And why is he lying about it?*