Olivia’s POV
The moment Maxwell and I settled into the back seat of his car, I went completely rigid.
Every muscle in my body locked up as I pressed myself against the door like I could somehow merge with it and disappear. I squeezed as far into the corner as physics would allow, trying to make myself as small and invisible as possible.
Stay still. Don’t move. Don’t let him get close enough to smell you.
Because if Maxwell had gone upstairs after breakfast- and I was certain he had - he’d spent time with those sheets. Probably pressed his face into them, trying to catch the scent of whoever had been in his bed. Trying to solve the mystery of his fuzzy memories.
And if he’d smelled me on those sheets, if he caught even a hint of that same scent now...
I’m screwed. Completely, utterly screwed.
"Oliver."
I stiffened even more, if that was possible. "Yes?"
Maxwell was watching me with those intense eyes, his expression curious. "Are you trying to go through the door? Because you’re pressed against it so hard I’m concerned you might actually succeed."
"I’m cold," I blurted out. "That’s why I’m... pressed against the door. For warmth. From the... door."
Smooth, Olivia. Real smooth.
Maxwell’s eyes narrowed slightly. Before I could process what was happening, he leaned across the seat toward me.
I froze completely, my breath catching in my throat.
"What are you..."
His hand came up to my forehead, checking for fever. Then his fingers moved to my neck, pressing gently against my pulse point.
Oh my God, those fingers.
Those were the same fingers that had been pumping in and out of me last night. The same fingers that had gripped my hips, that had traced patterns on my skin, that had made me come apart so completely I’d forgotten all my problems.
And now they were touching me again and my body was responding in ways that was completely disgraceful.
Heat flooded through me despite the air conditioning. My skin tingled where he touched me. My breathing quickened, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
Stop it. Stop reacting. He can’t know. He can’t...
"My staff will not die while under my watch," he murmured, his face so close I could see so deep into his eyes. "If you’re sick, you need to say so. I’ll take you to the hospital right now."
"I’m fine!" I immediately voiced out. "I’m completely fine. Not sick at all. Perfectly healthy."
Just incredibly turned on by your electrifying fingers, but that’s not something I can tell you.
Maxwell studied me for another long moment, his fingers still resting against my neck where he could probably feel my racing pulse. Then, finally, he drew back and settled into his seat.
"If you say so."
I sagged against the door in relief, my entire body trembling from that brief contact.
Get it together, Olivia. You cannot fall apart every time he touches you.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands, needing a distraction from the man sitting entirely too close in this enclosed space.
I breathed heavily as I typed: Kira, EMERGENCY. Need you to buy morning after pill TODAY. Hide it in the shrubs outside Maxwell’s front gate. This is URGENT. Will explain later.
I hit send and stared at the screen, waiting for her response.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Kira: WHAT?! Olivia what did you DO?!
Me: Can’t explain now. Just please. TODAY. Outside the gate. Hide it in the shrubs. Then take a photo of the exact location and send it to me.
Kira: Oh my GOD. Okay. Okay, I’m going now. But you OWE me an explanation.
Me: Thank you. Love you. You’re a lifesaver.
I put my phone back into my pocket and tried to focus on the problem at hand.
The sheets.
Maxwell had those sheets back on his bed right now, probably saturated with my scent. If he spent any amount of time in that room - which he would, because it was his bedroom - he’d keep trying to match that scent to something, someone.
I needed to do something. Needed to cover my tracks somehow.
What if I spilled perfume on them? Accidentally, of course. If the entire room reeked of artificial fragrance, he wouldn’t be able to smell anything else.
But how would I get into his room without it being suspicious? And which perfume? If I used something too feminine, that would be even more suspicious. But if I used something masculine, would that be enough to mask...
"Oliver."
I jumped, my thoughts scattering. "Yes?"
"You seem distracted."
"Yes. Just thinking about the search," I lied. "Wondering where else we haven’t looked."
Maxwell nodded slowly, like he didn’t quite believe me but wasn’t going to push.
The car continued toward the neighborhood where we’d been searching, and I tried to focus on the task at hand. But my mind kept spinning back to those sheets, to Maxwell’s questions at breakfast, to the way he’d preserved the evidence like he was planning to investigate.
I needed to ask him about tomorrow. Needed to secure permission to leave for my family lunch before it became an issue.
After mentally rehearsing my excuse several times, I cleared my throat.
"Mr. Wellington?"
"Mm?"
"I need to ask you something."
He turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised. "Go on."
"I have a family lunch tomorrow. With my parents. I know we’re still searching for Mitchell, and I want her found as much as you do, but... I’d like permission to leave the house for a few hours. Just for the lunch."
The car became silent, making my stomach twist.
Maxwell studied me with those penetrating eyes, and I could see him processing, calculating, deciding.
"You’re asking for permission against an event tomorrow. Does that mean you don’t want Mitchell to be found today?"
"Of course I do..."
"Or are you enjoying the house already?"
My breath caught.
"What?" The word came out strangled.
Maxwell leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "You seem comfortable there. More comfortable than when you first arrived. So I’m asking - what is it you’re enjoying about staying in my house, Oliver?"