Olivia's POV
The fork clattered against his plate as my entire world turned upside down. My hands were shaking so violently I could barely maintain my grip on anything.
*Olivia Hopton.*
*He knew. He fucking knew.*
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run. To bolt from this office, sprint down the hallway, and never look back. But when I started to stand up, pushing back from his desk, Maxwell's left hand shot out and gripped my wrist.
"Where are you going, Mr. Hopton?" he asked calmly, his fingers pressing against my pulse point. "I haven't finished my lunch yet."
His touch burned through my skin, making me feel hot all over. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs, and I was sure he could feel it too through my wrist.
"I... I thought you were done eating." I stammered weakly.
"Not at all," Maxwell replied, his grip not leaving my hand. "We were simply having a conversation. Please, sit back down."
It wasn't a request. It was a command.
