Olivia’s POV
"What the hell, Hopton? What did you hit for?"
I stuttered, my heart racing as I tried to make my voice sound deeper. "You... you were grabbing in your sleep."
His expression imdiately shifted to mortification. "Shit. I’m sorry, I... I..." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Maybe you should use the couch after all."
"Yeah," I agreed quickly, relief flooding through . "I think that would be better."
"Go ahead then," he said, already turning away and cuddling himself under the sheets.
I gathered a few pillows and made my way to the couch, grateful for the distance. But sleep didn’t co easily. Every sound Maxwell made - the rustle of sheets, the creak of the bed fra, even his steady breathing - kept on edge. I tossed and turned on the couch, my disguise feeling more suffocating with each passing hour.
When I finally drifted off, it was a fitful, restless sleep filled with anxiety dreams about my wig falling off in front of a large crowd, and people discovering my secret.
The next morning, I opened my eyes to see Maxwell already standing over , his hands on his hips, fully dressed in a crisp suit.
"About ti you woke up, Hopton," he greeted .
I was appalled to find that I was inappropriately positioned. I was laid back down with one of my legs flung over the cushion, my hands hanging in the air, and my pajamas slightly falling off my shoulders. My trousers had also rolled up, showing off my fair delicate legs.
I imdiately scrambled up, nearly panicking when I realized I was supposed to have woken up earlier to prepare before Maxwell could see like this.
"Sorry, sorry!" I muttered, running toward the bathroom. "I’ll be ready in five minutes!"
It was when I got inside that I realized I needed my suitcase. Damn it. I’d have to go back out there again.
I cracked open the door slightly, shocked to see that Maxwell’s eyes were trained directly on the bathroom door. He was standing exactly where I’d left him, arms crossed, watching like so kind of villain from a horror movie.
I made the sign of the cross before opening the door fully and running toward my suitcase while apologizing profusely.
"Sorry, sorry, just need my things, sorry about the delay, sorry..."
I rolled the suitcase into the bathroom, still apologizing even as Maxwell’s eyes tracked my every frantic movent.
Realizing I didn’t have ti to shower, I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face before hurrying to reapply my disguise.
When I was done, I got dressed in a sharp brown suit that I hoped would make look less crazy and more confident.
Finally, I was ready. I hurried out, apologizing yet again as Maxwell shook his head and led the way out of the room.
"Stop apologizing, Hopton," he said as we walked down the hotel corridor. "Other people will also think you’re crazy. It’s okay if I’m the only one that knows of that particular detail."
I tried to compose myself, focusing on deepening my voice and keeping my stride confident as we made our way toward the elevator.
********
The conference hall was massive and filled with about three hundred people, all conversing and flowing with themselves.
"Registration first," Maxwell said, steering toward a table marked ’Corporate Law Division.’ "Please don’t embarrass ."
The woman behind the registration desk looked up with a smile. "Na?"
"Oliver Hopton," I said, grateful that my voice ca out steady and deep.
She scanned her list, then handed a badge and a thick program booklet. "First ti at the National Legal Conference, Mr. Hopton?"
"Yes, ma’am."
"Well, you’re in for a treat. The keynote speaker this morning is Judge Cassandra Lance - she’s legendary. And this afternoon we have breakout sessions on everything from international rgers to criminal defense strategies."
Maxwell collected his own materials and guided away from the table.
We found seats in the middle section of the auditorium ant for the top bosses. I was just starting to relax and prepare my writing materials when I noticed a tall beautiful woman approaching us.
"Maxwell! I should have known you’d be here," she said, extending her hand. "And who’s this handso young man?"
Oh God, please don’t tell she wants to flirt with .
"Diana, et Oliver Hopton, my personal assistant. Oliver, Diane." Maxwell introduced us.
Diana extended her hand towards , and I noticed how she lingered far too long. "Oliver Hopton... so you work for Wellington and sons. That’s a big deal."
I smiled like a man should. "Yes, ma’am it is."
"I’ve always wanted to work there. It’s been a long ti dream of mine. But Mr. Bigshot right here doesn’t want to dissolve the rules against hiring woman." She sighed, a faraway look in her eyes.
"You know it’s been in the family for ages, Diane. I cannot just change the rules that easily." Maxwell explained.
"You can if you want to, Max." Turning to , she smiled again, clearly not wanting to continue that conversation. "So, Hopton, what do you say about dinner tonight?"
"He’d be glad to join you." Maxwell supplied quickly before I could even form the words to decline.
What! Why the hell did he do that.
"Great. I’ll co find you by 6 PM. Don’t keep a lady waiting." She winked and sauntered away.
I stared after her in horror. Hell na, I’m not doing that.
Just then, the lights dimd and Judge Lance took the stage.
She was a small woman with black and gray hair and the kind of presence that made the entire auditorium fall silent. When she spoke, her voice carried to every corner of the room without need for amplification.
"Good morning, counselors. Today I want to talk about the art of cross-examination, and why most of you are terrible at it."
The audience chuckled nervously.
"Last week, I watched a prosecutor spend forty-five minutes trying to get a witness to admit sothing that was already in evidence. Forty-five minutes!"
I leaned forward, completely absorbed, and taking everything down.
"The key to effective cross-examination is not to ask the question you want answered. It’s to ask the question that can only be answered the way you need it to be answered."
She delved into a series of examples, explaining each one to perfection.
"Now," Judge Lance said, scanning the audience, "I need a volunteer. Soone brave enough to demonstrate the wrong way to cross-examine a witness."
The auditorium fell dead silent.
"Co now, don’t be shy. How about..." Her eyes swept the room and landed directly on . "You, young man in the brown suit."
The blood drained from my face.
"?" I squeaked, then quickly lowered my voice. "?"
"Yes, you. Co on up. What’s your na?"
I stood on unsteady legs, my mind completely blank. "Oliver. Oliver Hopton."
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