"What?"
The word left Connor's lips before he could think. He stared at Olivia Brooks, looking for the punchline, for the hidden camera, or for the cruel spark of mockery he'd seen in Lola's eyes.
"Miss Olivia, are you joking or... or is this some kind of high-society prank?"
Olivia stepped closer, her expensive perfume cutting through the lingering scent of spilled wine. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles pale. "I know how it sounds. It's insane. But please... I'm not asking for love, Connor. I'm asking for a lifeline. Don't reject me before you even hear why."
Connor took a step back, his hand touching the cool glass of the restaurant door. "I'm a janitor, Miss Brooks. Look at me. I live in a walk-up with a landlord who wants to throw my shoes in the street tomorrow. I'm not 'suitable' for a woman like you."
"Suitability is a lie people like Lola tell themselves to feel important," Olivia said, her voice trembling slightly. "Are you rejecting me?"
"I'm being realistic," Connor replied softly. "I appreciate what you did for me tonight. Truly. But I think you should find someone in your own world." He gave her a final, apologetic nod and stepped out into the evening air.
As the door clicked shut, Connor exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He walked down the sidewalk, the neon lights of the city reflecting in the puddles. An interesting woman, he thought. But she's probably just like the rest. Testing my reaction to see if a 'poor man' would jump at the chance to marry money.
"Poor janitor," he whispered to himself, the words tasting like ash. "Forget it, Connor. Love is a luxury you can't afford."
Ding!
His phone vibrated. This time, it wasn't a bill collector. It was an encrypted line. He swiped to answer, and his entire posture changed. The slouch in his shoulders vanished, his gaze sharpened, and his voice dropped an octave into a tone of cold, absolute command.
"Long time no call, Boss," a vibrant female voice chirped. "The board is getting restless."
"How is the Hong Kong merger looking, Shirley?" Connor asked. Gone was the stuttering janitor. In his place was a man who moved markets with a whisper.
"It's finalized," Shirley replied. "But they want to see your face, not mine. Should I send the private jet? We can have you in the air by midnight."
"Don't act reckless, Shirl. I'm not finished with my... sabbatical yet. I told you, I need to know who stayed loyal when the 'trillionaire' disappeared."
"As you wish," she sighed. "But at least let me send a car—"
Connor stopped mid-sentence. He had looped back toward the restaurant's side entrance, and his eyes caught a black luxury sedan parked illegally on the curb. Three men in sharp suits—looking more like hired muscle than businessmen—slammed their doors and marched into Brooks' Bistro.
A scream tore through the night air. A high, terrified sound that could only belong to Olivia.
"Shirley, never mind. I have a situation," Connor snapped and cut the call.
He burst through the restaurant doors. The scene inside was chaotic. Chairs were overturned, and a tall man in a tailored charcoal suit was looming over Olivia. He had his fingers tangled in her hair, forcing her head back as he shoved a legal document toward her face.
"Sign it, you bitch!" the man snarled. "You think you can just walk away from the merger? If you won't marry me for the business, you'll sign this over to me the hard way."
The rage that hit Connor was instantaneous. It was a cold, white-hot fire that started in his chest and radiated to his limbs.
"Let go of her," Connor's voice rang out, low and dangerous.
The man in the suit paused, looking over his shoulder. He took in Connor's wine-stained shirt and work boots and let out a bark of laughter. "Who the hell are you? One of the help? Get back to your mop, boy, before I have you arrested for trespassing."
"I am her husband," Connor said, stepping into the light of the chandelier. His eyes were locked on the man's hand, which was still gripping Olivia's hair. "So get your hands off my wife. Now."
Olivia's eyes widened, her breath hitching. A strange, hopeful smile flickered on her lips despite her fear.
"Husband?" The man, Joe, turned fully, his lip curling in mockery. "You? She'd marry a stray dog before she'd touch a janitor. You're a bad liar."
Connor's jaw set. "It's no joke, fool. Ask her yourself."
Joe looked down at Olivia, his grip tightening. "Is this true? You went this low just to spite me?"
Olivia didn't hesitate. She looked Joe right in the eyes, her voice shaking but defiant. "Yes. He is my husband. It's not a lie!"
She wrenched herself free as Joe's grip loosened in shock and scrambled behind Connor, her small hands grabbing the back of his shirt.
"You chose... this?" Joe gestured at Connor with pure contempt. "You chose a janitor over a man of my status? That's pathetic, Olivia."
"He's more of a man than you'll ever be, Joe. You're just a monster," she yelled. Then, as if to prove the point to the room, she stood on her tiptoes, pulled Connor's face down, and pressed her lips to his.
The world went quiet for Connor. Her lips were soft, tasting of honey and salt. It was a brief, desperate peck, but it ignited something in him. She doesn't care that I'm wearing a janitor's uniform, he realized. She just saw a man.
Joe's face turned purple with rage. "You bastard! You think you can snatch my woman? Guards! Break his legs. I want him crawling out of here."
Two massive bodyguards stepped forward, their shadows stretching across the floor. Olivia gripped Connor's arm, her voice a frantic whisper. "Connor, please, run! I didn't mean to get you hurt. Just go!"
"Relax, Olivia," Connor said, gently detaching her hand. He began to roll up his sleeves, revealing forearms corded with muscle that no "ordinary" janitor should have. "I've handled bigger trash than this."
The first bodyguard swung a heavy, telegraphed hook. Connor didn't even flinch; he simply leaned back, the fist whistling past his nose. He moved like a shadow—fluid, precise, and lethal. Before the guard could reset, Connor stepped into the man's space and delivered a short, explosive jab to his jaw.
The sound of the impact was sickening. The guard's head snapped back, a molar flying from his mouth as he collapsed like a sack of stones.
"I thought you were supposed to be the professionals," Connor mocked, his voice cold.
The second guard roared, charging like a bull. He threw a flurry of punches, but Connor parried them effortlessly. With a swift kick to the knee followed by a palm strike to the chest, Connor sent the second man flying backward. He crashed into a glass display table, the shattering shards sounding like a final bell.
Joe stepped back, his bravado evaporating. "You... you're just a janitor! How can you—"
"I'm a janitor who's tired of cleaning up after people like you," Connor said. He moved so fast Joe didn't have time to react. He grabbed Joe's wrist, twisting it into a lock that brought the billionaire to his knees.
"Ahhh! Stop! You're breaking it!" Joe screamed, his face pressed against the floor.
"Apologize to her," Connor ordered, applying just enough pressure to make Joe's bones groan.
"I'm sorry! Olivia, I'm sorry! I won't touch you again, I swear!"
Connor released him with a shove. "Scram. If I see you near this restaurant—or her—again, you won't be walking away."
Joe and his bruised guards scrambled out the door, their luxury car peeling away with a screech of tires.
The restaurant was silent. Olivia stood among the broken glass, looking at Connor as if she were seeing him for the first time. "Thank you," she whispered. "That was... you're a hero."
Connor rubbed the back of his head, the "boss" persona slipping away as he felt the awkwardness return. "I just... I can't stand bullies. I'm leaving now. You should call the police to file a report."
He turned to leave, but Olivia's hand caught his wrist. Her touch was warm.
"Where are you going? You said it yourself, Connor. You're my husband."
"I was just trying to help—"
"You saved me," Olivia said, her eyes searching his. "And Joe will be back the moment he thinks you're gone. Please. Stay. If we get the certificate, he can never force me again." She softened her voice, her eyes turning pleading. "Please don't leave me to face them alone."
Connor looked at her—really looked at her. She wasn't Lola. She wasn't looking for a paycheck. She was looking for a partner.
"Okay," Connor said, a small, genuine smile finally reaching his eyes. "Let's get married."