Olivia's POV
I woke up the next morning, feeling too groggy and too weak to even stand up from the bed. My head was pounding, and every muscle in my body ached. If it weren't for the whiskey Alex and I had consumed last night, I would've thought I was actually sick.
*Note to self: Oliver apparently can't handle even one glass of liquor.*
I'd been so exhausted when I got home that I'd collapsed into bed without even checking if Kira was in. Now, as I squinted at my phone through bleary eyes, the numbers seemed to mock me: Wednesday, 19th June, 6:00 AM.
"My goodness," I groaned, covering my face with my pillow. "It's only been three days working for Maxwell and it already feels like three years."
