Chapter 56
Olivia’s POV
I fled straight to the restroom without thinking, my heart hamring so hard against my ribs I was sure it might actually burst. It wasn’t until I was already inside, leaning against the door and trying to catch my breath, that I noticed the pink and floral décor.
*Shit. The won’s restroom.*
But I couldn’t bring myself to care about that minor detail when my world was crashing down around . Gabriel was here. Gabriel - who knew as Olivia, who had taken on a date just last Saturday, who I’d just declined his invitation to be his date to his brother’s engagent party.
*Did he get a good look at my face? Did he notice anything familiar?*
I collapsed onto the toilet seat in the nearest stall, burying my face in my hands. The prosthetics suddenly felt suffocating, the wig itchy and too tight, the binding around my chest restrictive and painful.
*Maybe I can just hide in here until he leaves,* I thought desperately. *Maybe he’ll finish whatever he ca here for and go back to the hospital, and I can pretend this whole encounter never happened.*
Minutes ticked by. Five, then ten. The whole floor was quiet, no sounds of movent or voices. I had no way of knowing if Gabriel was still out there or if the coast was clear. Was Maxwell even done with Sabrina?
*This is ridiculous,* I told myself. *You can’t hide in a bathroom forever.*
I was just working up the courage to leave the toilet stall when a voice outside made freeze.
"Oh honey," ca a smooth, lodious voice from outside the stall, "this is becoming very ridiculous."
I held my breath, pressing myself back against the stall wall. Maybe whoever it was wasn’t talking to . Maybe they were on the phone, or talking to themselves, or...
"Darling, you better co out of there now while this restroom is still empty, because I can guarantee you that when a female cos in here, she’ll have so very pointed questions about why there’s a man hiding in the ladies’ room."
*A man? Shit! Who the fuck was outside?*
My throat felt like sandpaper. "I... I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Mmm-hmm." The voice was getting closer, "Sugar, I’ve been watching you flounder around this building for three days now, and honey, let tell you - your little performance is entertaining, but it’s not fooling everyone."
*Three days. They’ve been watching for three days.*
I remained frozen in the stall, my mind racing. Who was this person? How much did they know? Were they going to expose ?
"Look, doll," the voice continued, now right outside my stall door, "I’m going to give you about ten more seconds to co out voluntarily, because trust when I say you do NOT want to crawl under that door in these Jimmy Choos. These shoes are very expensive, and I will not hesitate to send you the dry-cleaning bill."
There was sothing about the tone - exasperated but not malicious, like a friend calling out bad behavior rather than an enemy preparing to destroy - that made slowly reach for the door latch.
I opened the stall door cautiously and found myself face to face with Julian Miller, the company’s head of PR. I’d heard about him but never t him personally - he worked on a different floor and ran in completely different circles.
Julian was everything I’d heard and more. Tall and elegant, with perfectly styled hair and great fashion sense that put most runway models to sha. His makeup was flawless, his nails were neat, and he was wearing a very expensive suit. Everything about him scread confidence and sophistication.
He looked up and down with the eye of soone who missed absolutely nothing, his perfectly arched eyebrows rising higher with each second of his assessnt.
"Oh honey," he said finally, placing one hand on his hip, "this is even worse up close."
I swallowed hard. "I don’t..."
"Sugar, please." Julian held up one finger. "Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence here. I’ve been in the fashion and beauty industry longer than you’ve probably been alive, and I can spot a drag performance from three buildings away. And this?" He gestured vaguely at my Oliver disguise. "This is amateur hour at best."
My mouth opened and closed in shock. "I’m not..."
"The prosthetics are decent quality, I’ll give you that," Julian continued, circling like a predator sizing up prey, "but honey, the application is all wrong. You’ve got visible seam lines around your jawline, the adhesive is lifting near your left ear, and don’t even get started on that wig. Synthetic hair, poorly blended, and it’s sitting at least half an inch too high on your forehead."
I instinctively reached up to touch the wig, and Julian made a disapproving clicking sound with his tongue.
"Don’t touch it! You’ll make it worse." He paused directly in front of , his expression shifting from assessnt to sympathy. "Look, sweetheart, I don’t know what kind of situation you’ve gotten yourself into here, but walking around this building looking like a bargain-bin drag king is not the answer."
"Please," I whispered, my voice cracking with desperation. "Please don’t tell anyone. I can explain, I just..."
"Explain?" Julian’s eyebrow climbed even higher. "Honey, I am dying to hear this explanation. What could possibly possess soone to infiltrate Wellington & Sons dressed like... this?"
I looked down at myself, seeing my disguise through his own eyes. The suit that had seed so convincing in my mirror at ho suddenly looked cheap and ill-fitting. The prosthetics were suddenly screaming "fake" to anyone with half a brain.
"It’s complicated," I said weakly.
"I’ll bet it is." Julian moved closer, "are you so kind of spy? Because let tell you, if you’re trying to steal company secrets, you are going about it in the most ridiculous way possible."
"No! No, it’s nothing like that. I’m not trying to steal anything, I just..." I trailed off, realizing how insane the truth would sound.
"You just what, sugar?"
I took a shaky breath. "I just needed this job."
Julian blinked, clearly not expecting such a mundane explanation. "You needed the job? Honey, there are easier ways to get employed than... this whole situation."
"Not just this job," I said, desperation creeping into my voice. "I just wanted to work closely with Maxwell Wellington." I lied.
Understanding dawned in Julian’s eyes, and he suddenly beca intrigued. "Oh, now this is getting interesting. You specifically wanted to work for the ice prince himself. Why?"
*How much should I tell him? How much can I trust him? Should I just tell him it’s because this high and mighty company have refused to employ female attorneys?*
"I can’t really explain right now," I said carefully. "But please, I’m begging you. Don’t tell anyone. I’m not hurting anybody, I’m not stealing anything, I just..."
"How long do you plan to continue this charade?" Julian interrupted, his tone becoming more serious. "Because honey, let tell you sothing - this building is full of very smart, very observant n. You might have fooled Maxwell Wellington, but that’s probably because he’s too self-absorbed to pay attention to the help. Other people? Other people are going to notice."
"I know," I said miserably. "I know it’s not perfect, but I just need a little more ti..."
"Ti for what?" Julian demanded. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?"
Before I could answer, we both heard footsteps in the hallway outside, heels clicking against the floor.
"Shit," Julian hissed. "That’s a lady coming in."
My eyes widened in panic. There were no won on this floor. Infact, the few won in this building were secretaries to other partners. Who the fuck was that?
Shit.
It must be Sabrina.
If she found in here, it would be over. Everything would be over.
Julian seed to read the terror in my expression because he imdiately moved to action.
"Okay, dear, here’s what’s going to happen," he said quickly, moving to position himself between and the door. "You’re going to stay calm, you’re going to let handle this, and then you and I are going to have a very long conversation about what the hell you think you’re doing."
I imdiately ran into a stall and closed it just as the bathroom door opened.
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