Olivia’s POV
We settled back at our original table by the window, the same spot where this disaster had started. The restaurant was still empty, still eerily quiet, and I immediately came to the conclusion that Maxwell had actually rented out the entire place just for this meeting.
But why?
A waitress came forward, standing nervously at a distance like she was scared to approach. She’d probably witnessed our earlier argument and was wondering if it was safe to come near us now.
"What would you like to order?" she asked hesitantly, her eyes darting between us like she expected another explosion.
Maxwell barely glanced at the menu. "The salmon, medium-rare. Side of asparagus. And a glass of your 2015 Chardonnay."
Of course he didn’t even need to look. He probably ate here all the time.
The waitress turned to me expectantly.
I wanted to say I wasn’t hungry, that I just wanted to have this conversation and leave. But that would make me look difficult, problematic. Like I was trying to cause issues.
"I’ll have the chicken caesar salad," I said, forcing a polite smile. "And water, please."
"Of course." The waitress wrote down our orders and practically fled back to the kitchen.
Maxwell leaned back in his chair, studying me with those annoying eyes. "So. Why did you ask to see me?"
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. This is going to be a normal conversation. No matter how he tries to twist it, no matter what games he plays, you’re going to remain calm and get your answers.
"We didn’t finish our conversation the other day," I began carefully. "And I really wanted to understand this... this feud between us."
"Feud?" He said the word like he was surprised to hear it.
"Yes, feud." I leaned forward slightly. "It started from the very first day I came to your office for relationship advice. You were incredibly rude to me."
Maxwell nodded slowly, like he was finally considering my words. "I understand why you would call that encounter rude."
I blinked. Was he... was he actually acknowledging his behavior?
"However," he continued, and there it was - the twist I’d been expecting, "I wasn’t rude. I gave you my most honest advice regarding your problem. But because you were so blinded by your obsession with Alex, you refused to accept it and got offended instead."
I sat back, trying to recall that first meeting. It hadn’t been that long ago, but it felt like ages - like I’d lived an entire lifetime between then and now.
Had it really gone down that way? Had I been so caught up in my feelings for Alex that I’d misread his intentions?
No. I distinctly remembered his cold tone, his dismissive attitude, the way he’d made me feel small and stupid for even coming to him.
I eyed him suspiciously. Of course he’d find a way to make it seem like he wasn’t at fault. That was his specialty - twisting situations until he came out looking reasonable while everyone else looked dramatic.
The food arrived, interrupting my thoughts.
The waitress set our plates down quickly and retreated again.
We began eating in silence.
"Is there another question?" Maxwell asked after a few bites.
"Yes." I set down my fork, meeting his gaze directly. "Why did you try to sabotage my relationship with Gabriel?"
Maxwell didn’t even blink. "I didn’t try to sabotage anything because there was nothing there in the first place." He cut into his salmon carefully. "I simply didn’t think you were good enough for him."
His words were cruel. So fucking cruel. Not because I thought I was good for Gabriel, but because Maxwell obviously thought I wasn’t good enough for anyone. Not for Alex, not for Gabriel, and certainly not for him.
My hands clenched around my fork, my body going rigid with barely contained fury.
Self-control, Olivia. Don’t give him the satisfaction of thinking you’re uncontrollable, and proving him right.
I forced a fake smile, trying to sound like I wasn’t offended. "There was something there. You saw it that night in the car when he was taking me home. The way Gabriel looked at me, the way we talked..."
"There was nothing, Olivia." Maxwell interrupted. "Gabriel is naturally an intense man. He’s looking for someone who can heal his broken heart, help him move past his feelings for Vanessa." He paused, his eyes locking with mine. "And I just don’t see you as the one who could do that. You’re too crazy for someone like him."
My smile tightened, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt. This man was seriously getting on my last nerve. Every word out of his mouth was designed to cut, to belittle, to make me feel inadequate.
Breathe. Just breathe. Don’t let him see how much it’s affecting you.
"Is there another question?" Maxwell asked, taking a sip of his wine like he hadn’t just insulted me multiple times.
I had one more question. One I’d been dying to ask but didn’t know how to ask without blowing my cover. I wanted to ask about his Olivia - the woman who’d broken his heart, the one who’d betrayed him and disappeared. I wanted to know what she’d done, if he was transferring his hatred for her on me.
But even as the question formed in my mind, I knew I had no right to ask it. That was too personal, too dangerous.
"Your relationship therapy job," I said instead, moving to safer ground. "Are you not doing it anymore?"
Maxwell’s expression closed off immediately. "My personal life is none of your business."
"What if I had a relationship problem and needed advice?" I pressed.
"Then you could book an appointment like anyone else." He set down his wine glass and picked up his knife. "But if you’re not going to listen to my advice without getting offended, then you shouldn’t bother coming."
That was it. I couldn’t deal with his insolence anymore. Every conversation with this man was like running headfirst into a brick wall - painful, frustrating, and pointless. I wondered what I was even doing here in the first place?
I focused on my food, stabbing at it with a little extra force. The sooner I finished eating, the sooner I could leave and never meet with him again.
The sound of raised voices outside suddenly cut through the quiet restaurant.
I looked up, confused. Through the glass windows, I could see someone struggling with the driver to get in.
Then the restaurant door burst open, and I turned in my seat, my blood turning to ice.
Sabrina stood in the entrance, like she was ready for war. But it was her eyes that terrified me - they were fixed on me with such pure, undiluted hatred that I actually felt it.
"You," she hissed, her voice shaking with rage.
Before I could react, before I could even process what was happening, she reached into her purse and pulled out a gun.
Time seemed to slow down. I watched in horror as she raised the weapon, pointing it directly at my chest.
"You think you can steal him from me?"