Julian’s POV
Olivia looked like she was about to cry as she stared at me with those poppy eyes. Like her entire world was literally over. At that point, I was tempted to tell her the truth about Maxwell, to stop her from beating herself up too much, but I didn’t want to die.
So Instead, I gripped her shoulders firmly, looking directly into her panicked eyes. "Listen to me, babe. You’re going to stay right here. Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll handle this."
"But Julian..." Her voice was hysteric, and I could see the hidden tears threatening to spill over. "What am I supposed to do? I don’t have any pads or tampons because I wasn’t expecting my period until next week! And I don’t have a spare suit, and Maxwell is probably fuming right now, and..."
"Stop." I held up one hand. She looked so pitiful, it was sad to watch. "Don’t worry about Maxwell or any of the rest of it. I said I’ll handle it, and I will. Just stay here, lock the door, and do NOT let anyone in until I get back. Understood?"
She nodded miserably, looking like a lost puppy.
"When I return, I’ll tap on the door once, that should signal that It’s me, and you open up immediately so we could fix this."
She nodded again.
I squeezed her shoulder once more for reassurance, then hurriedly left the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, I was standing in an upscale men’s boutique not too far from the office, looking through the racks of suits with critical eyes. I needed a blue suit in Oliver’s size, the exact kind of suits she wears - something to hide her curves, but good enough for the office.
My phone dinged just as I was holding up one blue suit for inspection - the exact same color she was currently putting on.
I looked at the text, it was from the psychotic Maxwell.
Maxwell: Is everything going well?
I couldn’t help but smile, shaking my head. The man had issues. Serious issues.
Me: I’m handling it. Don’t worry your head about it.
Maxwell: Don’t forget to buy pain medication. She might be experiencing discomfort.
I stared at that message for a long moment, a sigh escaping my lips.
Show me a man who is both an angel and a demon, and I’ll show you Maxwell Wellington.
Ever since Maxwell had told me about Olivia’s little masquerade - this happened weeks ago, when he’d newly returned from his trip and demoted Olivia as an attorney to his personal assistant - he’d cornered me in my office and sworn me to secrecy. Since then, I hadn’t had a single moment of peace. It was constant. Either he was texting me about her wellbeing, asking if she seemed okay, if she was eating enough, if she looked tired. Or he was telling me about his demonic plans to unsettle her, rattle her, stress her out, test her limits.
The man was obsessed. Completely and utterly obsessed, even if he’d never admit it.
I remembered the plan about Olivia dressing up as herself when her crazy ex - David - visited. That had been Maxwell’s fucking idea from start to finish. He’d orchestrated the entire thing.
"I want to see her," he’d told me, his voice low and intense. "As Olivia. Not hiding behind Oliver. I need to see her as herself. Again."
He’d picked out the kind of dress I should buy - that stunning green dress that had made her look absolutely stunning. He’d selected the shoes, specified the makeup style, controlled every detail of her appearance.
Now that I think back on it, I didn’t know if he trying to rattle her that day, or just texting her. It was impossible to determine with that man.
"Why are you doing all this?" I’d asked him, genuinely confused by his behavior. "If you know she’s a woman, why not just confront her? Why all these games?"
His expression had shut down immediately, as if his walls were slamming into place. "That’s none of your concern, Julian. Just do what I ask."
And that was it. Conversation over. Maxwell Wellington did not discuss his feelings or motivations with anyone.
At this point, I honestly thought he’d admitted the wrong person to that psychiatric facility this weekend. That place was meant for him too.
I selected the blue suit along with a white shirt and a tie. Then I headed to the pharmacy section of a nearby drugstore, grabbing a variety pack of pads and tampons - because who knew what Olivia preferred - along with some heavy-duty pain medication.
Maxwell Wellington might be crazy, but at least he was thorough in his crazy.
I paid for everything quickly, ignoring the cashier’s curious look at my weird purchase - men’s suit, feminine products, and pain meds definitely raised questions.
Twenty minutes after I’d left, I was hurrying back through the Wellington & Sons building, garment bag over one arm, pharmacy bag in my other hand.
Please let Olivia not have panicked and done something stupid. Please let her still be in that bathroom where I left her.
I knocked once, but was surprised to find the door already opened. Oh no.
I immediately pushed open the door, already calling out, "Olivia..."
But the words died in my throat.
Olivia wasn’t alone anymore.
Ken Morrey - junior associate, resident office hottie, and the man I’d had the most pathetic crush on since the moment I’d first laid eyes on him six months ago - was standing near the sinks, his expression filled with confusion.
And Olivia was on her knees in front of him.
Actually on her knees, hands clasped together like she was praying, her face tilted up toward his with an expression filled with desperation.
"Please," she was saying, her voice breaking. "Please, Ken, I’m begging you. You can’t tell anyone. Please. I’ll do anything. Literally anything."
"I don’t... I’m not sure what you want me to..." Ken looked completely overwhelmed, his face flushed, his hands hovering uselessly in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them.
Oh my God.