Olivia’s POV
I stirred as a sharp light shone in my eyes, disorienting completely. My head felt heavy, my body stiff from an uncomfortable sleeping position.
"Kiraaa, close the curtains," I muttered, turning away from the sharp brightness.
When I didn’t hear Kira’s usual sarcastic response, I cracked my eyes open a little bit and looked around. I almost scread when I realized where I was.
The office. I was in Maxwell’s office.
But then, I looked at myself, wondering how the hell I’d ended up on the couch wrapped in an expensive fluffy blanket that definitely hadn’t been here yesterday. The fabric felt like cashre against my skin, soft and luxurious.
Then my phone started vibrating consistently against the coffee table where I’d apparently left it. It seed like everything was happening at once because then I realized it was morning - actual morning with sunlight streaming through the windows - and I had slept off without even finishing my work.
I grabbed my phone with shaky hands. Kira had left countless worried ssages about my whereabouts. God... she must be out of her mind with worry by now. I quickly texted her back, explaining my situation.
Then, I was about to drop the phone when I saw the ti.
7:50 AM?!
Shit! Few more minutes before Maxwell cos in.
I imdiately shot up from the couch, the blanket falling to the floor as I beca filled with panic. How had I sleepwalked to the couch? But if I had sleepwalked, how did this blanket co about then? I definitely hadn’t brought it with .
My questions were answered when I turned toward my desk and found a huge box sitting there, wrapped in a silver ribbon that caught the morning light.
My hands trembled as I quickly went to it and opened it. Inside was everything I could possibly need: food in a deep vacuum cooler that was still warm, a complete suit set that looked expensive, bathroom essentials, toothbrush, toothpaste, expensive bath gel that slled like sandalwood, polished new shoes, a silk tie in deep navy blue... this was a complete set of everything I needed to start a new day, without having to bother about how to freshen up or explain my disheveled appearance.
I stilled, as reality finally dawned on . He was here. My stranger was actually here while I was sleeping.
Just when I was still in shock about the box, I discovered another surprise that made my breath catch in my throat. On my desk, printed and neatly arranged, were all the files I had been working on last night. The ones I’d been struggling to finish.
It was all neatly done and properly arranged, formatted perfectly according to Wellington & Sons’ standards. Every calculation was correct, every projection detailed and accurate.
"Oh my God," I muttered to myself as I turned through the pages, completely amazed by what I was seeing. The work was flawless, professional-grade analysis that surpassed anything I could have produced even with unlimited ti.
Soone was definitely here while I slept. But who could do work this sophisticated?
It has to be him. My stranger. No one else could’ve done sothing like this for .
The thought sent shivers through my entire body. He had been here, in this office, while I was unconscious and vulnerable. He had watched sleep, covered with that blanket, completed my work, and prepared everything I would need for the morning.
How had he gained access to the building? Was it possible to sneak in without being seen by the security guards through the caras?
This shit was creepy as hell. This strange guy wasn’t just any random guy. He was soone with deep connections.
I checked my phone again and cursed out loud as I realized Maxwell was probably in the building already, maybe even in the elevator right now.
I imdiately grabbed what I needed from the box, threw the remaining contents under my desk where they wouldn’t be visible, and rushed toward Maxwell’s private bathroom.
I shed off my old clothes that slled of yesterday’s stress and exhaustion, brushed my teeth, and imdiately turned on the shower.
The bath gel slled incredible, expensive and masculine in a way that made think of my stranger’s cologne. Had he chosen this specifically? Did he imagine using it?
I’d just dried up and was wearing the suit trousers when I heard the sound of the office door opening and soone’s footsteps entering.
Shit. Maxwell is here.
I abandoned the trousers and started binding my chest hastily, my fingers fumbling with the material as panic made my movents clumsy. The binding seed to fight , twisting and refusing to cooperate as I tried to flatten my curves quickly.
Then I heard his voice from outside the bathroom, and my blood turned to ice.
"Who’s in here?"
His tone was sharp and suspicious.
"Oliver, is that you?"
My heart hamred against my ribs as I yanked the binding.
"Oliver?" His voice was closer now, definitely moving toward the bathroom door. "I can hear movent in there."
Shit, shit, shit.
I abandoned my fumbling attempts at perfection and yanked the binding tight enough to flatten my chest, wincing at the sharp discomfort. I threw on the new shirt and was surprised to find it fitted so perfectly as if soone had known my exact asurents. The thought sent an odd shiver through - my stranger really did know everything about , didn’t he?
"Just getting changed, Mr. Wellington!" I called out, dropping my voice to Oliver’s note, while my fingers flew over the shirt buttons.
"You’re here early," Maxwell’s voice rang from outside, "It’s barely eight."
I grabbed the trousers and stepped into them, nearly losing my balance in my haste. "Couldn’t sleep, sir. Thought I’d co in and finish up those reports from yesterday."
There was a pause that stretched so long it started getting uncomfortable. I could practically feel Maxwell’s mind working through the situation, probably wondering why his ’never early assistant’ had suddenly developed insomnia.
"These are the reports I assigned you yesterday right?" He asked in a neutral tone.
"Yes, sir," I answered quickly, stepping into the new shoes that fitted like glove.
I could hear him moving around the office, probably examining the reports right now. The sound of papers rustling made start panicking, my palms sweating as I fumbled with the tie. Why was he going through them now? Will he notice the perfect arrangents, knowing it wasn’t my handwork?
"Oliver." His voice was sharp now, authoritative in a way that ant trouble. "Co out here. Now."
I quickly threw on my wig, checked my disguise in the mirror one last ti before taking a shaky breath and opening the bathroom door.
Maxwell stood behind my desk, one of the completed reports in his hands, his green eyes scanning the pages with laser focus.
He looked up as I erged, and I saw surprise in his face before his expression hardened again.
"These reports," he said, holding up the papers. "You completed all of them?"
"Yes, sir." I lied, but what choice did I have?
"All twelve financial assessnts, formatted according to company standards, and..." He flipped through the pages with his good hand, his frown deepening. "Organized with a level of detail and accuracy that surpasses what I was expecting."
I swallowed hard. "I worked late into the night, sir. Really wanted to get them right."
Maxwell closed the report carefully. Then his gaze shifted to sothing else - the expensive box that I’d hastily shoved under my desk. One corner was still visible, along with a piece of the ribbon.
My heart stopped.
"Oliver," he said quietly, and sothing in his tone made the hair on my arms stand up. "Did you sleep here last night?"
The question hung in the air between us. And I figured there’ll be nothing wrong in telling the truth. After all, he’d ordered that I finish everything before leaving the office, so staying here was expected.
"I... yes, sir. I fell asleep at my desk. I was so tired after finishing the reports, and I didn’t want to risk being late this morning, so I just..." I gestured vaguely toward the couch where I’d woken up with the blanket still lying there.
Maxwell’s eyes followed my gesture, and I watched his expression change.
"You slept on the office couch," he said slowly.
"Yes, sir."
"In yesterday’s clothes."
"Yes, sir."
"But now you’re wearing a completely different outfit. And an expensive one at that." His gaze raked over , taking in every detail of the outfit.
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words ca out. What could I possibly say that wouldn’t sound completely insane?
Maxwell moved around the desk, slowly.
"Oliver, I’m going to ask you a direct question, and I want a direct answer."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Did soone help you?"
The question hit like a punch. God. How did he know? What gave away?
"I don’t understand the question, sir," I managed, but even I could hear how weak it sounded.
Maxwell stepped closer, close enough that his entire body heat enveloped . "Soone obviously helped you out with this work. You invited one of your friends to help you out last night. Who was that? The David guy that kept calling yesterday?"
*The David guy? How did he know it was David calling? Did he take a sneak peak?
Hell no! That was my private life and Maxwell Wellington had no right to invade in my privacy.
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