Chapter 3 : Viral Hangover

Olivia's POV 

Gabriel stood there like he’d stepped straight out of the shadows, eyes sharp, expression unreadable. He didn’t raise his voice, but the quiet in it was more terrifying than any yell. 

The guy stammered, “Hey man, it’s not—” 

Gabriel grabbed his wrist and twisted. Not enough to break it, just enough to warn. “Walk away. Before I forget I’m civilized.” 

The creep muttered something, then vanished into the crowd, clutching his hand. 

I stared at Gabriel, blinking like he was a hallucination. “You, what, how—” 

“You were about to fall,” Gabriel said simply, steadying me by the elbow. 

“Oh. Cool. Great. My hero.” My words slurred as I tried to sound sarcastic but ended up sounding like a drunk toddler. “Now I’m saved. Yay.” 

“Let’s get you home,” Gabriel muttered. 

“Home? I don’t even know where home is anymore,” I said, half-laughing, half-sobbing. 

Gabriel exhaled softly, just as I stumbled forward, my stomach rebelling against the onslaught of shots and tequila. 

The world tilted violently, and I barely made it to the corner of the counter before I emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor. Heat, shame, and regret coursed through me in equal measure. 

“Ugh… great,” I groaned, swaying, pressing a hand to my stomach. The world spun faster than I could handle, colors smearing together. My knees buckled. “Not again…” 

And then everything went black. 

When I blinked open my eyes, the first thing I felt was a throbbing headache and a lingering sourness in my stomach. The second thing was… softness. Sheets. Clean ones. Not bar-floor sticky, not my apartment kind of clutter. 

“Ugh,” I groaned, sitting up too fast. The world tilted. “Where the hell…” 

And then I froze. 

Because across the room, in a low armchair, Gabriel Moreau sat, hair damp, shirt half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, a book in hand like some kind of morning-after fever dream. 

I blinked once. 

Twice. 

Nope. Still there. 

“OH MY GOD!” I shrieked. 

Gabriel looked up slowly, utterly calm. “You’re awake.” 

“Awake? Awake?! Where am I? Why is your shirt open? Why am I in a—” I looked down, gasping. “These aren’t… my clothes.” 

Gabriel set the book aside, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Good morning to you too.” 

“Did we—” My voice cracked. “Did we sleep together?” 

“No.” 

I pointed at him accusingly. “You paused before saying that!” 

“I didn’t.” 

“You so did!” 

Gabriel sighed, standing. “You were sick. You passed out before I could even get you in the car. I had someone bring you something clean and comfortable. That’s all.” 

I blinked. “You… had someone change me?” 

His jaw clenched. “Yes. A maid. Calm down.” 

“Oh, I’m calm,” I said, standing abruptly and wobbling. “Totally calm. Just, you know, naked in a billionaire’s house after blacking out, nothing suspicious about that!” 

Gabriel muttered, “You’re not naked. You’re wearing my shirt.” 

I gasped again. “OH MY GOD I’M WEARING YOUR SHIRT?!” 

Gabriel rubbed his temple. “Do you ever stop talking?” 

“Only when I’m not being kidnapped by Mr. Can-Buy-Any-Wine-He-Wants!" 

“I didn’t kidnap you,” Gabriel said flatly. “I saved you.” 

I squinted at him, clutching the oversized collar of the shirt. “Suuure you did. That’s exactly what kidnappers say before they sell kidneys.” 

Gabriel looked ready to lose his famously controlled patience. “Olivia—” 

That. The sound of my name rolling off his tongue sent a strange jolt straight through me. 

My chest tightened before my brain even registered it. I froze for a fraction of a second, eyes wide. My own mouth went dry. And then the moment passed, because I had more pressing concerns than internal swooning. 

“No, don’t ‘Olivia’ me!” I snapped, glancing around frantically. “Where’s my phone?” 

“On the table,” Gabriel said. 

I grabbed it, turned on the camera, and hit record. “Everyone watching this, if I disappear, it’s because this man, this Gabriel Moreau, took advantage of me while I was drunk! Look at him! Look at this face! Total villain!” 

Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly. “Turn that off.” 

“Oh no,” I said, backing up, holding the phone high. “I’m recording evidence.” 

“Olivia,” 

Gabriel said it slowly, with the patience of someone counting backwards from ten. 

“Nope! Not falling for that sexy villain voice either—” 

Gabriel moved fast. Too fast. One second I was waving my phone like a maniac, the next his hand was on my wrist, trying to stop the recording. We ended up way too close, his chest against mine, breath brushing my cheek. 

“Stop,” Gabriel said quietly. 

“Make me.” 

“I’m trying to,” Gabriel muttered, exasperated. 

For one insane second, my brain forgot how to function. His eyes were darker up close, unreadable but intense. My pulse stuttered. 

And then— 

“Sir,” someone said from the doorway. 

We both froze, snapping our heads toward the voice. A butler with gray hair and impeccable posture stood there, holding a tablet. His expression flickered between discomfort and amusement. 

“What is it?” Gabriel asked, not moving away from me. 

The butler cleared his throat. “You… may want to see this.” 

He turned the screen toward Gabriel, and there it was. Photos. Dozens of them. Me, stumbling out of The Velvet Note, Gabriel’s arm around me, his hand on my waist. Headline after headline popping up like wildfire. 

The first one screamed: Olivia Rayne Moves On Fast? Justin Harrington Out With Supermodel Yesterday, Olivia Seen With Gabriel Moreau Later That Night! New Romance Already Heating Up? 

Another flashed across the screen: From Justin to Gabriel: Olivia Rayne’s Wild Night Sparks Billionaire Romance Rumors! 

My stomach dropped. 

“Oh. My. God.” I grabbed the tablet from the butler’s hand. 

Gabriel’s expression hardened. “Someone set that up.” 

“Someone set me up to look like a drunk sugar baby!” I shouted, pressing my palms to my face. “I’m going to be cancelled before breakfast!” 

Right then, my phone rang. Grace’s name flashed across the screen. I answered it on instinct. 

“Olivia! Are you completely insane?!” Grace's voice shrieked through the speaker. “The whole internet is losing it! What did you even do this time?!” 

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. 

Beside me, Gabriel just sighed, running a hand through his still-damp hair. 

“Long story,” I muttered weakly. “But… apparently, I’ve been saved, seduced, and slandered, all in one night.” 

“Olivia Rayne!” Grace shrieked, her voice wobbling. “Seriously… what have you gotten yourself into now?!” 

I looked at Gabriel. He looked back, tired, irritated, but mostly like a man who had no idea how he got dragged into this mess. 

“Honestly? I wish I knew,” I said into the phone, then hung up before Grace could start another round of screaming. 

For a long moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of city noise outside. My pulse still hadn’t slowed. I could feel Gabriel watching me, like someone watching a storm about to hit their glass house. 

Finally, he moved. One flick of his wrist, and the butler stepped forward like he’d been waiting for the signal. 

“Make it disappear,” Gabriel said, voice low but edged with steel. “Every photo, every headline. I want silence before anyone even thinks to refresh their feed.” 

The man started to nod. “Of course, sir—” 

“Wait! You can’t just erase it!” I cut in, waving my hands like I was trying to stop a hurricane. 

Gabriel turned his head toward me slowly, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “I’m sorry,” he said, tone clipped, “you’d prefer the entire internet to think you were blackout drunk and spent the night with me?” 

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. “Well… not like that, but—” 

“But what?” His voice sharpened. “Do you have any idea what kind of damage that kind of exposure can do? To you? To me?” 

“Yeah, it makes me look like a mess and you look like a saint. Congratulations,” I shot back. 

Gabriel exhaled through his nose, steady but irritated. “I’m trying to fix this.” 

“And I’m saying maybe we shouldn’t.” 

That actually made him blink. “Shouldn’t?” 

“Yeah,” I said, folding my arms. “You deleting everything just makes it look worse. Like we’re hiding something. You clean it up, I look guilty. You leave it alone, I look like—” 

“Reckless?” Gabriel supplied dryly. 

“—desired,” I corrected with a grin that was part nerves, part defiance. 

Gabriel stared at me for a long beat. Then, slowly, his brow furrowed. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Oh, I’m completely serious,” I said. “Look, the headlines are already out. People are already spinning stories. So maybe…” I hesitated, then shrugged with forced nonchalance. “Maybe we give them one.” 

Gabriel’s expression was unreadable, but his voice dropped an octave. “What exactly are you suggesting?” 

I tilted my head. “You and me. Dating. Publicly.” 

Gabriel actually laughed. Not a full one, just a disbelieving huff of air that sounded like it escaped before he could stop it. “That’s your solution? Pretend we’re together?” 

“Temporarily,” I said. “Until the chaos dies down. Then we ‘amicably part ways.’ You get to control the narrative. I get to not look like a cautionary tale. Everybody wins.” 

“Except reality,” Gabriel muttered. 

I ignored that. “You have your people handle it, spin it into something glamorous. The billionaire and the pop star. You know how fast people move on once they get a pretty story to obsess over?” 

Gabriel stared like he was watching someone juggle knives in slow motion. “You’re asking me to lie. Publicly.” 

“You’re acting like you’ve never done that before.” 

His jaw tightened. “This isn’t a joke, Olivia.” 

“I’m not joking,” I said, softer now. “This will work. It’s cleaner than a scandal cleanup, and you know it.” 

For a moment, Gabriel just looked at me, like he was genuinely trying to figure out if I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had. Because I couldn’t tell him the real reason I wanted this, couldn’t admit I needed to prove something to someone else entirely. 

Finally, Gabriel said quietly, “You really are insane.” 

“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m also right.” 

Gabriel turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not agreeing to this.” 

“Sure you are,” I said lightly, because confidence is sometimes the only thing keeping me from unraveling. “You just don’t realize it yet.” 

Gabriel looked over his shoulder at me, brows raised. “You’re not in a position to threaten me.” 

“Really?” I pulled out my phone again, unlocking the screen with a mischievous smile. “Because I think I am.” 

His voice turned warningly low. “Don’t.” 

But I already had the camera open. “One little livestream. I tell the world you’re just shy and protective, and boom, instant ship. They’ll eat it up.” 

Gabriel took one step closer, the kind that made the air shift around him. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Oh, I would,” I said, tilting my chin. “You can erase headlines. I can create them. Who do you think wins in that game?” 

Gabriel stared at me, eyes dark, assessing. And for the first time, I saw something flicker there, something like reluctant admiration hidden under all that irritation. 

“You’re playing with fire,” he said finally. 

“And you,” I murmured, “are pretending you don’t love control.” 

The space between us went quiet. His gaze locked on mine, and for one wild second, I thought he might actually smile. 

Instead, Gabriel said, “You’re unbelievable.” 

“Thank you,” I said sweetly. 

Gabriel studied me for a long, taut moment, then exhaled like a man giving in to a storm. “Fine,” he said finally, voice low and resigned. “You want a fake relationship? You’ll get one.” 

I blinked. “Wait, really?” 

“But I set the rules,” Gabriel said firmly. 

Oh. 

This was going to explode and I had a front-row seat.