Olivia’s POV
The words hung in the air between us. He didn’t mean that, did he?
"You’re going to stay with me until Mitchell is found."
Oh yes he did.
Something inside me snapped.
"No. No, absolutely not. Stop the car. Let me out. Right now."
I reached for the door handle, my fingers fumbling desperately with handle, yanking and pulling at it.
Locked.
Of course it was locked.
"Let me out!" My voice was climbing higher, forgetting Oliver’s deeper voice in my panic. I pulled at the handle harder, my other hand slapping against the window. "Unlock this door right now!"
"Oliver, calm down..."
"Calm down? CALM DOWN?" I twisted in my seat to face him fully, and suddenly his hands were on my arms, holding me in place with a grip that was firm. "You can’t just kidnap me! This is insane! I’m not going to be your prisoner in your mansion while Mitchell is missing. I need to be out there searching for her, not locked up like some..."
"You’re not going to be a prisoner," Maxwell interrupted, his voice maddeningly calm compared to my hysteria. His hands tightened slightly on my arms, keeping me from lunging at the door again. "You’re going to search for Mitchell from my house."
"That makes no sense!" I struggled against his grip, but he was stronger, and the binding around my chest was making it hard to breathe, hard to fight. "How am I supposed to search for her if I’m trapped in your house?"
"You’ll wake up every morning," Maxwell explained, "and go out with my most trusted driver to search for Mitchell. He knows the city. He has connections. Meanwhile, I’ll go to work. In the evening, you’ll return to the mansion and we’ll discuss your progress."
"But I already have a system!" My voice cracked with desperation. "I’m already looking for her from my own apartment. Kira and I, we’ve got posters, we’ve got a plan..."
"And clearly that plan isn’t working fast enough." His words were sharp. "It’s been almost twenty-four hours, Oliver. Twenty-four hours that my cat has been missing. Do you have any idea what could happen to her out there?"
I felt guilty, but I pushed through it. "So your solution is to hold me hostage? What about work? What about my actual job as your assistant?"
"Forget work." Maxwell’s eyes were hard. "Your only job right now is finding Mitchell. Everything else can wait. Mitchell can’t."
"This is too much," I said, trying to beg now. "I’m already doing my best to find her from my apartment. You don’t need to..."
"The reason I’m taking you to my house," he interrupted, "is because just in case you don’t find Mitchell..." He paused, and his eyes locked onto mine with a terrifying glare. "I can easily throw you in jail."
All the air left my lungs.
"What?" The word came out as a whisper.
"You heard me."
"Jail?" My voice was rising again. "You’re going to throw me in jail? For what? You were the one who sent Mitchell to my apartment! I didn’t ask for her! I didn’t ask for any of this!"
"If you hadn’t tried to kidnap her in the first place," Maxwell said, his voice cold and precise, "she wouldn’t have fallen in love with you. And I wouldn’t have been forced to send her to your apartment to keep her happy."
The logic was so twisted, so unfair, that I couldn’t even form words to argue against it.
My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
Nothing came out.
Because what could I say? I had actually gone to Kidnap Mitchell that day.
I slumped back against the seat, defeated, my arms going limp in Maxwell’s grip. He released me slowly, carefully, like I was a wild animal that might bolt again.
"Look," Maxwell said, and for the first time since this nightmare car ride began, his voice softened slightly. "I’m not trying to kidnap you or hurt you, okay? You’re going to stay in my house, yes, but you’ll have your own space. Your own room. You can go anywhere you want..."
"With your driver monitoring my every move," I finished bitterly.
"With my driver ensuring you’re safe and productive in the search," he corrected. "I just want to find my cat, Oliver. And we can’t do that efficiently when we’re separated, working on different plans, duplicating efforts or missing crucial information."
He leaned forward slightly, and despite everything, despite my anger and fear and exhaustion, my heart was racing at his closeness.
"Mitchell is everything to me," he continued, his voice raw and almost vulnerable. "She’s the one constant in my life that doesn’t want anything from me except food and affection. She doesn’t care about my money or my name or my connections. She just... loves me. Unconditionally."
The emotion in his voice made my chest tighten with guilt.
"I will find her," I said quietly. "I promise you. I will find Mitchell."
"I know you will." His eyes held mine. "Because you’re going to be staying at my house until you do."
We sat in silence for a long moment, the car idling on the side of the road, the driver waiting patiently for instructions.
Finally, I let out a long, shaky breath. "Fine. Okay. I’ll stay at your mansion."
"Good."
"But," I added quickly, "I need to call my girlfriend. Kira. I have to tell her what’s happening. She’ll worry if I just disappear."
Maxwell nodded. "Of course. Call her."
I pulled out my phone with trembling hands, staring at the screen. Multiple missed calls from Kira already. Several texts asking where I was, if I was okay, what the hell was happening.
But as I pulled up her contact, another thought crashed into my mind.
Sunday.
Oh God. Sunday.
The lunch with my parents. As Olivia. The one thing I could not miss or reschedule without causing a family crisis.
If I was trapped at Maxwell’s mansion as Oliver, how the hell was I supposed to transform back into Olivia for an entire afternoon without anyone noticing?
Please, I prayed silently, staring at Kira’s contact photo. Please let us find Mitchell before Sunday. Please, God, let us find that cat before I have to explain to my parents why their daughter isn’t coming to lunch. Or worse, before I have to try to sneak out of Maxwell’s mansion in a dress and heels.