Olivia’s POV
My first day at Wellington and Sons began with a knot of anxiety in my stomach that no amount of confident striding or shoulder-squaring could dispel. I’d sent my resignation email to Harry & Associates the night before - it was short, with zero explanation beyond "pursuing other opportunities." I ignored the three follow-up calls from my manager this morning.
No turning back now.
I arrived at the Wellington building fifteen minutes early, having spent two hours getting ready. The transformation process was kinda faster today, I was adapting quickly. But still, I wondered how long I could keep this up. Nikita had warned about the physical toll of binding day after day.
"One problem at a ti," I muttered to myself as I rode the elevator to the 30th floor.
The receptionist - Patricia, I’d learned - greeted with a warm smile. "Good morning, Mr. Hopton! Let show you to your office."
My office. The words sent a thrill through . At Harry, I’d had a cubicle in the open floor plan. Here, I was led to a small but private office with actual walls and a door. The naplate already read "Oliver Hopton, Associate."
"Mr. Gregory asked to see you as soon as you arrived," Patricia inford . "He’s in 3012, just down the hall."
I thanked her, dropped my ssenger bag on my new desk, and took a mont to compose myself. I could do this. I’d fooled the partners. I’d fooled Alex. I just needed to keep fooling everyone.
Alex’s office was three tis the size of mine, with a view that probably added a zero to his salary. He looked up from his computer when I knocked on the door-fra, and my traitorous heart did its familiar flip.
"Oliver! Co in," he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "Sleep well?"
"Like a rock," I lied, having spent most of the night panicking about today.
"Good, because we’ve got a mountain of work ahead of us." He pushed so folders toward . "The gan rger is more complicated than initially presented. The subsidiaries have so concerning liability issues."
I took the folders, careful to maintain the proper masculine posture even while seated. "I’ll dig into these right away."
"Great. We have a strategy eting at eleven." He paused, studying with those intense green eyes that had haunted my dreams for months. "You know, there’s sothing familiar about you. Have we t before Wellington? Maybe at a bar association event?"
My pulse quickened. "I don’t think so," I said, trying to maintain my deep voice. "I would have rembered eting the great Alex Gregory."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Hardly great. But thanks for the ego boost." He returned his attention to his computer. "See you at eleven, Oliver."
I escaped back to my office, heart pounding. That was close. Too close. I needed to be more careful.
The morning flew by as I imrsed myself in the gan files. The job wasn’t so different from what I’d done at Harry, just with higher stakes and bigger numbers. By eleven, I had a solid grasp of the issues and was ready for the eting.
What I wasn’t ready for was the casual physical contact that seed to be the norm at Wellington. As I entered the conference room, Renly clapped on the back so hard I nearly stumbled.
"Hopton! How’s the first day treating you?"
"Very well, sir," I replied, fighting the urge to rub my shoulder.
Throughout the eting, the physical contact continued. A hand on my shoulder as soone leaned over to point at a docunt. An elbow nudge when soone made a joke. A fist bump when I said sothing good.
It was exhausting, and I was constantly tensing when soone brought their hands so close to . By lunchti, my shoulders were rigid with stress.
"Oliver," Alex called as we left the conference room. "Join for lunch? I’d like to discuss your thoughts on the subsidiary issue."
Lunch alone with Alex? The old Olivia would have fainted with joy. The new Oliver had to pretend this was a completely normal, not-at-all-heart-racing invitation.
"Sure," I replied as casually as I could manage.
Lunch was a dream co true. Alex asked thoughtful questions about my approach to the case and actually listened to my answers. It was kinda weird, being treated as a peer by the sa man I’d spent months worshiping from afar.
"You’ve got good instincts," he told over coffee. "I think we’ll work well together."
I couldn’t help but smile. "I think so too."
Back at the office, Patricia intercepted us with a reminder.
"Don’t forget about tonight’s welco dinner for the new associates," she told Alex. "Mr. Wellington specifically asked to make sure you’d be there."
Alex sighed. "Right. The dinner." He turned to . "Hope you didn’t have plans tonight, Oliver. These welco events are mandatory. Supposedly for networking, but really it’s just an excuse for the partners to drink the whole night."
A dinner? With alcohol? With n who expected to drink like one of them? Panic bubbled up, but I forced a smile. "Sounds great. Where and when?"
"Crescents, eight o’clock," Patricia said. "Dress code is business casual."
As the afternoon went by, I found myself wondering how I was going to handle a night of drinking with my new colleagues? Would the adhesives hold up? Would my voice stay consistent after a few drinks?
By the ti I returned to my apartnt to change and refresh my disguise, I was a bundle of nerves.
Kira was waiting, full of questions about my first day.
"So they all bought it? No one suspected anything?"
"Not that I could tell," I said, applying fresh adhesive to my jawline. "Although Alex did say I seed familiar."
Kira’s eyes widened. "That’s not good. What if he recognizes you?"
"He won’t," I said with more confidence than I felt. "He barely noticed at Harry. Why would he connect with Oliver?"
"Maybe because you’re obsessed with him and stare at him constantly? People can sense that kind of energy."
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"I’m just saying, be careful." Kira handed a fresh shirt. "Especially tonight. n get handsy when they’re drinking."
"Don’t remind ," I groaned. "I’m planning to avoid alcohol altogether."
"Good luck with that at a law firm dinner," Kira snorted. "Those guys drink like it’s their job."
She was right, of course.
Crescents was packed when I arrived, the Wellington group having taken over the back section of the bar. Alex waved over to a table where he sat with several other associates.
"Oliver!" he called. "We’ve already started without you."
A glass of alcohol was thrust into my hand before I could even sit. I pretended to sip, grimacing at the burn of whiskey.
"Not a scotch man?" one of the associates asked. "Bartender! Get Hopton a beer instead!"
And so began the longest, most stressful evening of my life. Every ti I managed to discreetly empty my drink into a nearby plant or covertly swap it for water, a fresh one appeared in my hand. The partners moved from table to table, sharing war stories and talking about won. It’s always about won.
"So, Hopton," Brad Renly slurred, dropping an arm around my shoulders, "you seeing anyone? Because my niece is visiting next weekend, and she’s got a thing for lawyers."
"I’m actually focusing on my career right now, sir," I replied quite hastily.
Renly winked. "Smart man. Plenty of ti for won later. Speaking of which..." he launched into a story about his wild college days.
Two hours in, and I was desperate for a break. The room was hot, my binder was uncomfortable, and I’d had to dodge more back slaps and shoulder punches than I could count.
"Bathroom," I muttered to Alex, who had drank only little. Surprisedly.
The n’s room was crowded and rowdy. There was no way I was risking that. I doubled back, checking the hallway carefully before slipping into the won’s restroom instead.
It was blissfully empty. I locked myself in a stall, finally able to breathe normally for the first ti in hours. I sat down to pee, relieving myself of my already full bladder.
I was just standing up, reaching for the flush, when I sensed movent behind . Before I could turn around, I felt a presence - soone had sohow entered the stall silently while I was distracted.
My heart leapt into my throat, panic flooding my system. I froze, unable to turn, unable to scream.
A gentle caress brushed against the back of my neck, so light and gentle it sent a tingle through my skin.
"Hey, Livvy," a soft, masculine voice whispered in my ear.
I knew that voice. From sowhere, sohow, I knew it - but my terror-stricken mind couldn’t place it.
"Congratulations on your new job," the voice continued, whispering so seductively.
And then, before I could gather my wits enough to turn, the presence was gone.
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