Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 218

Olivia’s POV

"Let’s go upstairs," Blue Eyes suggested, her fingers walking up my arm like a spider. "We can get more... comfortable."

"NO!" I practically shouted. "No upstairs! We are not going upstairs!"

"The couch then?" Green Eyes suggested brightly. "We’re flexible."

I was going to hyperventilate. Actually hyperventilate.

Think, Olivia. Think!

"I’m gay!" I suddenly announced.

Both women paused, then exchanged glances before looking back at me with matching smirks.

"Even better," they said in unison.

WHAT?!

"We can work with that," Green Eyes assured me. "Trust us, honey, we’ve converted plenty of..."

"YOU CAN’T CONVERT SEXUALITY!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "That’s not how it works! And I’m not... I mean I am... but..."

God, I was making this worse.

"Relax, Olly," Blue Eyes murmured, her hand moving to my waist. "Just let us..."

"MAXWELL!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "MAXWELL Wellington, GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Silence.

The bastard wasn’t coming.

Green Eyes leaned in closer, her lips near my ear. "He’s not going to save you, honey. He specifically told us not to take no for an answer."

Oh, he did, did he?

Something in me snapped.

Fine. FINE. If Maxwell wanted to play games, I’d play games.

I plastered on my sweetest smile and looked at both women. "You know what? You’re right. I’ve been so stressed. And you two are absolutely beautiful."

They beamed, clearly thinking they’d won.

"But," I continued, my smile turning wicked, "I have a very specific fantasy. One I’ve been dying to try."

"Oh?" Green Eyes’ interest was piqued. "Tell us."

"I want..." I leaned in conspiratorially, "to watch you two... with each other. While I watch. From way over there." I pointed to the far side of the room.

They blinked at me.

"You want us to... perform for you?" Blue Eyes asked slowly.

"Yes! Exactly! Just you two. Over there on the couch. While I sit very far away. Not participating. At all. Just... observing. From a safe distance."

They exchanged uncertain glances.

"Maxwell said you’d want us to..." Green Eyes started.

"Maxwell doesn’t know ALL my fantasies," I interrupted. "This is what I really want. Trust me."

It was complete bullshit, of course. The moment they started, I was bolting straight up the stairs to my room and locking the door. But I needed them distracted long enough to escape.

"Well," Blue Eyes said slowly, "if that’s what you really want..."

"It is! Absolutely! My deepest desire!" I was laying it on thick now. "Please, ladies. Make my dreams come true."

They looked at each other, shrugged, and started moving toward the couch.

The moment their backs were turned, I made my move.

I darted toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Hey!" I heard one of them shout behind me. "OLLY!"

I didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. Just ran like my life depended on it.

I reached the last floor, sprinted down the hallway, burst into my room, and slammed the door behind me, immediately clicking the lock.

My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

There was pounding on my door seconds later.

"Olly! Come on, don’t be like this!"

"Open the door, honey! We were just starting to have fun!"

"I’M NOT COMING OUT!" I yelled back. "GO AWAY!"

More pounding. "Maxwell paid us a LOT of money!"

"Then go find Maxwell and have fun with him instead!"

"He specifically wanted us for YOU!"

Of course he did. The absolute BASTARD.

I leaned against the door, breathing hard, when I heard it.

Slow, deliberate clapping.

From the connecting bedroom.

My blood ran cold.

No.

The connecting door to my room opened, and there he was.

Maxwell.

Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, that insufferable smirk on his face, looking like the cat who’d caught the canary.

"That," he said, his voice dripping with amusement, "was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all week."

I stared at him. "You... you were here the whole time?"

"Oh yes. Front row seat." His smirk widened. "I particularly enjoyed the ’I’m gay’ declaration. Very creative. Though the follow-up was a bit contradictory, don’t you think?"

"YOU!" I advanced on him, fury overriding everything else. "You planned this! Even when I told you I wasn’t interested. You just wanted to..."

"Wanted to what?" He pushed off the doorframe, moving into my room confidently. "To help you relax? To provide companionship? Isn’t that what a good employer does?"

"A good employer does NOT hire escorts for their assistant!"

"They weren’t escorts," Maxwell said mildly. "They were dancers. Very talented dancers. Though I admit, I may have... implied certain expectations."

"You’re insane!"

He laughed, the sound rich and dark. "Perhaps. But you have to admit, watching you try to escape was absolutely priceless. The ’watching from a safe distance’ fantasy? Brilliant improvisation."

I grabbed a pillow from my bed and hurled it at his head.

He caught it easily, still laughing.

"I hate you," I seethed. "I actually hate you."

"No, you don’t." He tossed the pillow aside and took another step closer. "You’re angry, yes. Embarrassed. But you definitely don’t hate me." He shook his head. "That’s not what I saw in your eyes when you first looked at me this morning."

"This morning? What are you talking about?" I asked, my heart suddenly pounding. What did he mean?

"Nothing of importance," he said with a shrug.

I looked at him suspiciously, me eyes accessing him up and down. "Well, what you did was an ambush! I could have had a heart attack!"

"Your heart is perfectly healthy. Infact, I can check if you want me to." His eyes darkened. "Very thoroughly."

Heat flooded my face.

"Get out of my room."

"Technically, this is MY house. MY room that I’m allowing you to use."

"Then I’ll leave!"

"And go where?" He raised an eyebrow. "Back to your apartment? How was your search for Mitchell today? Did you find something useful?"

"Uhhh... we’re still searching every..."

"You know, sometimes I wonder if you really want her to be found," he said, his voice deceptively casual. "How long has it been now? One week? Yet you only feed me unreasonable excuses."

I felt my chest tighten. "What are you trying to say?"

"I’m saying," he moved closer, "that maybe you’re just pretending to search for Mitchell. Maybe you’re perfectly content staying here, in my mansion, under my roof."

The accusation hit like a slap.

"Are you serious right now?" My voice came out strained. "You think I want to be here? That I’m deliberately sabotaging my own search?"

"Are you?" He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve. "Because you certainly don’t seem particularly motivated to leave."

I stared at him, wondering if this was his plan all along tonight - to stress me out. First the blonde ambush, now this accusation. Was he trying to break me?

"I want to find Mitchell," I said firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. "I want to find her and go back to my normal life. My real life. Away from all this... chaos."

"Your normal life," he repeated slowly. "Right."

"Yes. My normal life. Where I’m not being terrorized by escort dancers or accused of things I’m not doing."

Maxwell was quiet for a long moment, then he nodded once, sharply. "Follow me."

"What?"

"Follow me," he repeated, already moving toward the connecting door to his room. "To my room."

I stayed rooted to the spot. "Why?"

He paused in the doorway, looking back at me with a glint in his eyes that made my stomach flip. "Why do you think?"

My mouth went dry. After everything that had happened between us, after the last time in his room, I didn’t know what to think anymore.

But instead of voicing my concerns, I found myself walking toward him. Preceding him through the connecting door into his massive bedroom.

Maxwell moved past me to his desk, and I watched as he pulled out a thick stack of files, dropping them onto the surface with a heavy thud.

"What’s this?" I asked.

"Legal files," he said matter-of-factly. "Files that have been stockpiling in the office because my assistant decided to spend his working hours searching for a cat he apparently doesn’t even want to be found."

I felt my jaw clench. Keep a straight face, I told myself. Do NOT give him a death stare.

"I told you..."

"I know what you told me," Maxwell interrupted smoothly. "Now I’m telling you - these need to be reviewed, organized, and summarized by tomorrow morning. Think you can manage that? Or are you too busy planning your next ’Mitchell search’ that yields absolutely nothing?"

The sarcasm in his voice made my blood boil.

How DARE he accuse me of wanting to stay here? Of deliberately prolonging this nightmare?

I walked over to the desk, gathering the files with more force than necessary. "Fine. I’ll work on them in my room."

"No."

I looked up sharply. "Excuse me?"

"You’ll work here," Maxwell said, settling into the armchair near his fireplace. "In my room. Where I can make sure you’re actually working and not... distracted."