Olivia’s POV
Throughout the remaining journey home, Maxwell was surprisingly fine. Better than fine, actually - he looked healthier with each passing minute, as if the severe pneumonia that had nearly killed him just hours ago had simply evaporated into thin air.
I couldn’t exactly look him in the eye anymore, not after that kiss. Every time I tried, my face would burn with embarrassment and my mind would replay the feeling of his lips on mine, his hands in my hair, the desperate passion in the way he’d pulled me closer. So instead, I kept my gaze firmly fixed on my phone, pretending to respond to emails that didn’t actually need immediate attention.
But when he wasn’t looking - when he was gazing out the window or reviewing something on his own phone - I would steal glances at him, studying his face with growing confusion. The gray pallor was gone. The labored breathing had disappeared. He looked like someone who’d just had a good night’s sleep, not someone who’d been hospitalized with pneumonia less than ten hours ago.
At one point, my curiosity got the better of me, and I actually googled: "Can kissing cure pneumonia?"
The search results were predictably useless - articles about how kissing could boost your immune system, how it released endorphins, how it could temporarily relieve stress. But nothing about miraculous recoveries from bacterial lung infections.
I stared at my phone, feeling ridiculous. This was insane. People didn’t just get better from pneumonia because of a kiss. And yet, I couldn’t deny what I was seeing with my own eyes. Maxwell looked completely recovered, as if the entire medical emergency had been some kind of planned performance.
But that didn’t make sense either. No one could fake a 104-degree fever. No one could manufacture the test results that had shown pneumonia in his lungs. So what the hell was happening?
I decided to mind my business and stop trying to solve medical mysteries that were clearly beyond my understanding. Maxwell didn’t say anything to me for the rest of the flight, which I took as a blessing. The silence was awkward, but it was better than having to discuss what had happened between us.
When we finally landed, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Home. I could go back to my apartment, see Mitchell, maybe have a normal conversation with Kira, and not bother about sleeping in the same room with Maxwell tonight.
But as we drove away from the airport, I started to realize we weren’t heading toward the company or anywhere I could catch a cab home.
It didn’t take long before we pulled up to Maxwell’s estate, the iron gates opening automatically as we approached.
The car stopped in the driveway, and Maxwell got out without a word. I remained sitting in the backseat, unsure what I was supposed to do. Was I meant to follow him inside? Wait here? Call a cab?
After a moment, Maxwell came over to my side and looked at me through the open window. "Are you planning to sit in my driveway all night, or do you have something to say?"
I did have something to say. A lot, actually. Things that had been building up inside me ever since that kiss, ever since his miraculous recovery, ever since this entire confusing, complicated situation had spiraled completely out of control.
I got out of the car slowly, closing the door behind me. "Actually, yes. I do have something to say."
Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"
I took a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "I need to ask you something, sir, and please be honest with me."
"Okay."
"Are you..." I paused, trying to find the right words. "Are you into guys?"
The question hung in the air between us. Maxwell turned fully to face me, his expression unreadable in the dim light from the house.
"Why would you ask me that?"
"Because!" I gestured helplessly. "Because of what happened on the plane. Because of the way you’ve been acting. Because I feel like you’re into guys, and if that’s true, I need to know."
Something dark flickered in Maxwell’s eye. "Is this because of the kiss?"
"Yes! Obviously, yes!" I was getting flustered now, my masculine composure starting to crack. "You kissed me, and I was trying to perform CPR, and it was completely inappropriate, and..."
"You kissed me first," Maxwell interrupted calmly.
"I... what? No, I didn’t! You were the one who kissed me! I was trying to save your life!"
"Really?" He took a step closer, and I instinctively took a step back. "Because it didn’t feel like that when you put your lips on mine."
My face was on fire now. "You weren’t breathing! I had to give you rescue breaths, and you... you took advantage of the situation!"
Maxwell actually smiled at that, a small, knowing smile that made my stomach flip. "I was definitely breathing at some point, Oliver. But you still continued kissing me."
"That’s not... I wasn’t..." I was sputtering now, completely unable to form words anymore.
"To answer your question," Maxwell said in a tone that was somewhat playful, "yes, I have been attracted to men before. Among other genders. I don’t particularly like labels, but if you need one, you could say I’m pansexual."
Oh. Oh God. This was actually happening. Maxwell Wellington was actually confirming that he was attracted to men, which meant he might actually be attracted to Oliver, which meant I was in even deeper trouble than I’d thought.
"But here’s what I’m curious about," Maxwell continued, studying my face. "Why does my sexual orientation bother you so much? Unless..."
"Unless what?" I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
"Unless you’re worried about your own response to the kiss."
"I’m not... that’s not..." I took another step back, nearly tripping over my own feet. "Look, the point is, if you are into guys, then I’m the wrong person for you to be interested in."
Maxwell’s eyebrow rose again. "Why is that?"
Because I’m a woman! I wanted to scream. Because this entire thing is a lie! Because you’re not actually attracted to me, you’re attracted to a person who doesn’t really exist!
But obviously, I couldn’t say any of that. So instead, I fumbled for something, anything, that would convince him to back off.
"Because I’m just... I’m not the right one for you," I said weakly. "I’m your assistant. There are professional boundaries. And I have a girlfriend. And you’re my boss. And this is all just... it’s too complicated."
"Complicated," Maxwell repeated, as if tasting the word. "That’s certainly one way to describe it."
He was still watching me with that intense gaze, and I felt like he could see right through every layer of deception I was putting on.
"How come you’re feeling so much better, anyway?" I blurted out, desperate to change the subject. "You had pneumonia this morning. You could barely breathe a few hours ago. And now you look like you just came back from a spa vacation."
Maxwell shrugged. "I just am. Sometimes the body recovers faster than expected."
"That’s not how pneumonia works!"
"Apparently, it is." He smiled again, that infuriating, knowing smile. "Or maybe your magical healing kisses cured me."
"That’s not funny!"
"I’m not joking." He took another step closer, close enough that I could inhale his fragrance, close enough that I had to tilt my head up slightly to maintain eye contact. "Maybe you have hidden talents you don’t know about, Oliver."
"I need to go home," I said, my voice coming out higher than I intended. "It’s late, and I need to check on my... on my girlfriend."
"You’re not going anywhere, Oliver. What if the pneumonia comes back." Maxwell said, stepping back and giving me space to breathe. "Come in. My staff already prepared a room for you."
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.