Olivia’s POV
I quickly scrambled out of the car at the ntion of my na, and hurried to et Maxwell at his front door.
By this ti, Sabrina was already talking to Alex near the fountain, asking about the engagent party preparations and how everything was coming along.
"Alex, you have to tell about the flowers Vanessa chose," Sabrina was gushing. "I have such wonderful ideas for the centerpieces..."
Maxwell stepped into the house without acknowledging her, and I quietly followed behind like a shadow, still trying to keep my distance from the very furious Maxwell who had endured my disastrous driving for the past hour.
The mont I crossed the threshold, my mouth fell open. The interior was even more breathtaking than the exterior - the floor and walls were made of pure shiny marble that reflected the light from the chandeliers. The double grand staircase was curved to the upper floors, with pictures of all the the Wellington family adorning the walls.
A maid on black and white uniform appeared imdiately to welco Maxwell, reaching for his bag and jacket.
"Leave it," Maxwell commanded sharply, waving her away with his good hand. "Go assemble the other staff mbers. I need to make an introduction."
The maid nodded and hurried away. I couldn’t help myself - still behind Maxwell, I quietly pulled out my phone and started taking pictures secretly. Kira deserved to see this beauty, at least once in her lifeti. The opulence was overwhelming.
"Mr. Hopton," Maxwell’s voice cut through my awe, "close your mouth and compose yourself. You’re about to et my staff."
I snapped my mouth shut and quickly shoved my phone back into my pocket just as the household staff began filing into the grand foyer. There were at least eight people - maids, groundskeepers, a chef, what looked like a butler.
"Everyone," Maxwell announced, "this is Oliver Hopton, my new personal assistant. When he arrives for errands from the office, you are to give him full access and cooperation. No questions, no delays."
The staff nodded respectfully, and I felt their curious gazes assessing . I tried to stand straighter, to look more professional and less like soone who had just been traumatized by driving.
By this ti, Sabrina and Alex had joined us inside.
"Well then," Maxwell said, turning toward the door, "you’re dismissed, Mr. Hopton. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow."
"Oh no!" Sabrina interjected suddenly in her bright voice. "Oliver must stay for dinner! I insist!"
I felt panic rising in my chest. "That’s very kind, but I really should..."
"Nonsense," Alex chid in, "I promise to drive you ho. But you have to stay for dinner. Sabrina is an amazing hostess."
I looked desperately at Maxwell, hoping he’d dismiss , but he was simply watching with an unreadable expression.
"It’s settled then," Sabrina said, clapping her hands together. "Oliver is staying for dinner!"
********
An hour later, I found myself seated at Maxwell’s exquisite dining table, feeling completely out of place among the elegant settings and expensive wine glasses. The dining room could have hosted a state dinner - the shiny chandeliers casted sliver light over polished surfaces that reflected like a mirror.
Sabrina had changed into an even more stunning dress and was holding court at the table, regaling us with stories about her travels while the staff served course after course of mouthwatering food.
"...and then the hotel concierge in Milan told that my suite overlooked the Duomo, but when I arrived, it was clearly facing the wrong direction entirely," Sabrina was saying while holding her wine glass. "I an, what’s the point of staying in Milan if you can’t see the cathedral from your window?"
Alex was nodding politely, while responding to her stories, but Maxwell sat in brooding silence, barely touching his food.
"Enough about my travels," Sabrina continued, turning her full attention to Alex. "Tell everything about this engagent party! I’m practically vibrating with excitent about it. You know, despite the fact that it’s your wedding, I almost feel like I’m preparing for my own!"
The words hung in the air like a loaded gun.
Silence fell over the table at the implication. Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing between Sabrina and Maxwell. I kept my eyes fixed on my plate, pretending to be fascinated by the fish.
*How long have Sabrina and Maxwell been dating?* I wondered. *And does Maxwell even want to marry her? He honestly doesn’t look like the marriage type.*
I felt so completely out of place. Everyone at this table had soone - Alex had his perfect Vanessa, Sabrina clearly had her sights set on Maxwell, and even Maxwell had his mysterious double life that I still didn’t understand.
Everyone had a love life except .
Well, except for Gabriel. And my stranger. But those relationships felt so complicated that I wasn’t sure they counted.
I sighed internally and glanced up from my plate, only to find Maxwell staring directly at . Not just looking - staring. His green eyes were fixed on my mouth with an intensity that made heat crawl up my neck.
The mont our eyes t, sothing electric passed between us. For just a second, it was like everyone else at the table disappeared. There was only Maxwell and , locked in this charged gaze that made my pulse race and my skin tingle.
Then he quickly averted his eyes, his jaw tightening as he reached for his wine glass with his good hand.
*Why was he looking at like that?* I wondered, my heart still hamring. *Was he still angry about the bathroom incident? Did he want to leave? Or...*
I glanced at his untouched plate and suddenly understood. His al was sitting there, completely untouched, while he struggled to eat one-handed. He was too proud to ask for help in front of Sabrina and Alex, but he was clearly having difficulty managing the cutlery with his injury.
*Did he want to feed him?*
The thought should have filled with dread after the disaster of lunchti, but instead I felt sothing else entirely. Sothing that might have been... protectiveness?
Without thinking, I stood up from my seat and walked around the table to Maxwell’s side. Alex and Sabrina stopped their conversation, watching curiously as I took the chair closest to Maxwell and turned it to face him directly.
Then I picked up his spoon.
"What the hell are you doing?" Maxwell demanded, his eyes wide with shock.
"I want to feed you," I said simply, eting his gaze steadily. "Your arm is injured, and you’re not eating."
"Mr. Hopton," Maxwell said, his voice low and dangerous, "I don’t need..."
"Yes, you do," I interrupted quietly, dipping the spoon into his soup. "You haven’t eaten anything, and you need your strength to heal."
For a mont, Maxwell just stared at , his eyes filled with sothing intense I couldn’t understand.
"This is so sweet!" Sabrina exclaid suddenly, breaking the spell. "Oliver, you’re such a dedicated assistant!"
But I barely heard her. I was completely focused on Maxwell, on the way his lips parted slightly as I brought the spoon toward his mouth, on the way his breathing had changed, on the electricity that seed to crackle between us in the space of a few inches.
"Open," I whispered, so quietly that only he could hear.
Maxwell’s eyes darkened, and for a mont I thought he might refuse. Then, slowly, he parted his lips and accepted the spoon.
The simple act felt more intimate than it had any right to. I watched his mouth close around the spoon, watched him swallow, watched his tongue dart out to catch a drop of soup at the corner of his lips.
My hand was trembling as I pulled the spoon away.
"More?" I asked breathlessly.
Maxwell nodded, his gaze never leaving mine.
As I prepared the next spoonful, I beca aware that Alex and Sabrina were watching us now.
"You two have such an interesting dynamic," Sabrina observed, her voice filled with amusent. "It’s almost like you’re..."
"Like we’re what?" Maxwell asked sharply, finally breaking our eye contact to glare at his girlfriend.
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