Olivia's POV
I smoothed down my outfit one last time. I chose a cropped tank top and high-waisted jeans that hugged my curves perfectly. They were casual but with just enough sex appeal to make a guy's head turn—or so I hoped.
The night air was cool against my skin as I hurried down the steps, my heart pounding like a jackhammer. I spotted Christopher's sleek car idling at the curb, looking too fancy for my neighborhood.
"Okay, Olivia. You can do this. Just apologize, and maybe he won't toss you out of a moving vehicle," I muttered.
Christopher leaned against the car, looking like he'd stepped out of a magazine. Damn him.
"Mr. Wallace, I-" I started, but he cut me off with a raised hand.
"Save it, sweetheart. You're late."
I blinked, caught off guard. "Late? But you said thirty minutes!"
He glanced at his watch, eyebrow arched. "And it's been forty-five. Time management, darling. It's essential in this business."