Olivia’s POV
Everyone stared at Maxwell as he drew closer to the receptionist.
"The sixth floor has better views," he continued, not looking at anyone in particular - just at the reception who trembled under his gaze. "I’d like 602. The room next to 601."
Gabriel’s head snapped toward him. "Why do you need to be next to our room?"
"I don’t need to be next to your room. I want to be next to room 601 because..." Maxwell paused, turning to face him. "...it has a good view."
"All the rooms have good views," Gabriel countered, his voice calm but firm. "This hotel is specifically designed that way. Every room literally faces the city."
"Well, I prefer the sixth floor view."
"Then take 603. Or 604. Any room on that floor that isn’t directly next to mine."
"I want 602."
The receptionist looked between them nervously. "Gentlen, perhaps..."
"Why 602 specifically?" Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. "What’s so special about the room right next to where Olivia and I will be sleeping?"
"I told you. The view."
"Bullshit."
"Gabriel..." I started.
"No, this is ridiculous." Gabriel turned fully to face Maxwell. "You show up in Tokyo, right next to my girlfriend’s room. You get mysteriously stabbed. We co to New Delhi. And now you want the room right next to my girlfriend again? What’s your ga, Maxwell?"
"I don’t have a ga. I just want a room with a decent view while I recover from being stabbed."
"A view you can get from literally any other room on that floor."
"But I want that one."
"Well, you can’t have it."
"Says who?"
"Says ." Gabriel’s jaw was set. "Olivia and I are sharing 601, and you’re going to stay far away from that room."
Sothing flashed across Maxwell’s face - pain, anger, jealousy, I couldn’t tell. "Fine. If you’re sharing a room with her, then I’ll take 601."
"What?" Gabriel’s voice rose. "That makes no sense..."
"You said you’re dating. Couples share rooms. So you can share mine - 504 - with Olivia. I’ll take 601."
"That’s not... we already have 601... you can’t just..."
"I’m simply offering a solution." Maxwell said sharply, despite his obvious pain. "Unless there’s a reason you don’t want to share my room? The single room with one bed?"
Gabriel’s face flushed. "That’s not the point..."
"Then what is the point?"
"The point is you’re being deliberately difficult!"
"I’m being practical. You’re dating. You should share a room. I’m injured. I need a comfortable space. 601 is perfect."
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because..." Gabriel struggled for a reason, "...because Olivia’s stuff is already being sent up to 601!"
"So move it to 504."
"We can’t just..."
"Sure you can. The bellhop hasn’t even left yet."
I looked over. Maxwell was right. The bellhop was still standing there with our luggage, looking confused about where to take everything.
"This is insane," Gabriel muttered.
"What’s insane is you avoiding to share the single room with your girlfriend while an injured man..."
"Oh, don’t play the injury card..."
"I was STABBED..."
"BY YOUR OWN STUPIDITY..."
"GENTLEN." Kennedy’s voice cut through their argunt. "You’re causing a scene."
Everyone in the lobby was indeed staring at us.
The receptionist looked like she wanted to hide under her desk.
"Olivia," Gabriel turned to , his voice softening. "Just tell him. Tell him you’re staying in 601 with and he needs to stay in his 504 room."
All eyes turned to .
Maxwell’s gaze was intense despite his pale face, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating tension.
Gabriel looked expectant, confident in my answer.
Kennedy and Kira watched on.
And I... I was so tired of this. Tired of being pulled between them.
"Gabriel’s right," I said finally.
Maxwell’s face fell.
"Gabriel will stay in my room. We’re dating. It makes sense."
"Olivia..." Maxwell started.
"Gabriel can move into 601 with ." I interrupted, "You can have 504, Maxwell. Or any other room. Just... not next to mine."
It was a tough decision but it had to be done. Maxwell was weirdly sneaky, and the last thing I needed was him showing up behind like a ghost.
Gabriel looked satisfied with the decision, while Maxwell looked furious he wasn’t getting what he wanted.
But it was fair. Neutral. Safe.
"That was a great decision, Olivia."
"Whatever," Maxwell muttered. "Give 604."
The receptionist quickly made the changes, printing new key cards with shaking hands.
"Here you are." She handed them out like they might bite her. "Elevators are to your left. Enjoy your stay."
We moved toward the elevators in tense silence.
The bellhop followed with our luggage, probably regretting every life choice that led him to this mont.
Gabriel pressed the up button.
The elevator arrived with a ding.
We all filed in. It was too small for six people plus luggage, forcing us to stand closer than anyone wanted.
I ended up pressed between Gabriel and the wall, Kira and Kennedy in front of , Maxwell in the back corner.
I could feel Gabriel’s hand on my waist.
But when I glanced at the reflection in the elevator’s mirrored wall, my eyes found Maxwell’s.
He looked furious.
Not just angry. Not just frustrated. But absolutely, devastatingly furious.
His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping. His hand - the one not pressed to his injured side - was balled into a fist. His eyes were dark with sothing that looked dangerously close to rage.
And it was all directed at Gabriel’s hand on my waist.
The elevator rose in uncomfortable silence. Fifth floor ca first.
"This is us," Kennedy said, and he and Kira stepped out. "See you guys tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah," I managed. "Goodnight."
The doors closed.
One more floor had never felt so long.
Gabriel’s thumb traced small circles on my hip. A casual gesture. A claiming gesture.
And with every circle, I watched Maxwell’s reflection get angrier.
Sixth floor. Finally.
The doors opened.
"Goodnight, Maxwell," Gabriel said coolly.
Maxwell didn’t respond. Just watched as Gabriel led out of the elevator, his hand still on my waist.
As we walked down the hallway toward our room, I glanced back.
Maxwell stood in the elevator, his eyes locked on us, his expression absolutely murderous.
Why wasn’t he getting out?
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