Olivia's POV
By the time it was lunch break, I felt like I'd been put through a blender, reassembled, and then put through the blender again.
Maxwell had dumped what looked like three filing cabinets worth of work on my tiny desk - apparently left behind by his previous assistant who had "quit without notice." The mountain of papers, folders, and sticky notes formed a small paper city that threatened to topple over every time someone walked past my weirdly positioned corner of doom.
"These need to be organized, filed, and cross-referenced by end of business today," Maxwell had announced, dropping the last stack on my desk. "My previous assistant left things in quite a state. I'm sure you'll handle it much more better."
Translation: *Welcome to hell, Oliver.*
I trudged toward the cafeteria like a defeated monkey, my stomach growling loud enough to wake the dead. I kept my head down and took the longest possible route to avoid any chance of running into Alex.
