Only You

Chapter Three: Late-Night Calls

Olivia was curled up on the couch in Mia’s apartment, dressed in her fluffy pink pajama set, a bowl of popcorn in her lap and an old rom-com playing on the screen.

Her eyes were just starting to droop when...

Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

Her phone lit up on the table. Karl Johnson.

She squinted at the name. “What the hell…?”

She picked up the call, half-asleep. “It’s ten thirty at night, Mr. Johnson.”

Karl’s voice came in smooth and calm, with a lazy tone. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

She sighed loudly, dropping her head back onto the couch. “Barely. What do you want?”

There was a pause.

“I just remembered I need the outline for next week’s logistics meeting.”

She frowned. “You’re calling me now for something that’s due next week?”

Another pause. “Well, I didn’t say it was urgent. I just… thought of it. Figured I’d call.”

She narrowed her eyes at the ceiling. “You called because you ‘thought of it’? Seriously?”

“You sound grumpy.”

“I am grumpy.”

“I like that tone. You only use it with me.”

“Because only you make me want to throw my phone at a wall.”

Karl chuckled softly through the line, and Olivia could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

“You were sleeping?” he asked casually.

“I was trying to,” she muttered. “Some people have a life outside the office, you know.”

“Hmm. I just wanted to hear your voice,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. I said—uh, just send me the outline tomorrow. No rush.”

She groaned, now fully awake. “You seriously called me for this?”

“Good night, Olivia.”

She stared at the phone in disbelief. “You’re such a—”

Click.

He ended the call before she could finish.

She glared at the screen. “He’s insane. Absolutely insane.”

From across the room, Mia poked her head out of her bedroom. “Let me guess. Karl?”

Olivia flopped backward dramatically. “The devil himself.”

Mia smirked. “And yet, you answered.”

Olivia groaned louder. “Because he’s my boss! If I don’t, he’ll make me count staples tomorrow or something.”

Mia just laughed and went back to bed.

Olivia lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling.

“…He really is insane.”

But what she didn’t know…

Karl lay on his bed in a dim apartment, phone still in hand, staring at the screen with a small grin.

“Damn that woman,” he muttered to himself, “Why can’t I stop thinking about her?”

The next morning at Johnson Enterprises, the office buzzed with its usual energy, phones ringing, heels clicking, keyboards clacking. But in Karl Johnson’s corner office, the morning ritual was already underway.

“Katherine!” he called.

Silence.

He scowled. “I mean, Olivia!”

Outside, Olivia rolled her eyes. Again?

“Olivia!”

She ignored it.

“Olivia Benson, to my office. Now.”

She exhaled loudly and pushed back her chair. “Third time already. What does he want now? For me to cut his toast into heart shapes?”

She walked in with a tight smile. “Yes, Mr. Johnson?”

He didn’t look up from his computer. “Why did the coffee taste different this morning?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Because it’s decaf. Your assistant said you were jittery yesterday.”

“I don’t like decaf.”

“Noted,” she said through gritted teeth.

He glanced up finally, smirking. “You look annoyed.”

She gave him a flat stare. “Oh no. This is my cheerful face.”

He chuckled. “Sarcasm. Cute. Can you—”

She held up her hand. “No. You’ve called my name more than three times already. You made me redo your memo because you didn’t like the font. You made me staple your files and then asked me to unstaple them because you changed your mind on the order. You made me run to your car to grab your jacket and then didn’t even wear it.”

He blinked.

“You know what?” she continued, voice rising, “I’m not your maid, your secretary, or your personal servant. And unless this building has suddenly changed ownership overnight, I don’t work for Karl Johnson’s Ego Incorporated.”

Karl sat back, stunned. For the first time in forever, no woman had ever raised her voice at him—let alone lectured him like he was some spoiled kid.

The office outside had fallen oddly quiet. A few heads peeked up nervously.

Karl opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Olivia, breath still heavy, turned to leave.

“Wait,” he said, finally finding his voice.

She paused at the door.

He stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed… then, to her surprise, a slow grin tugged at his lips. “You’ve got fire, Miss Benson.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Congratulations. Want me to write that on your next coffee cup?”

And with that, she walked out, leaving him blinking… and more amused than ever.

He leaned back in his chair, whispering under his breath,

“Goddamn, this woman might just ruin me.”

The next morning, Olivia arrived early, far earlier than usual.

She was done. If Karl Johnson called her name one more time today, she swore she might throw his million-dollar espresso machine out the window.

He walked into the office as usual handsome, smug, and wearing that maddening smirk that made every female employee swoon… except her.

“Olivia,” he said, dropping his briefcase on the desk. “Coffee. And this time, no decaf. I need to be awake for the entire day.”

She smiled sweetly. “Of course, Mr. Johnson.”

She marched to the break room, pulled out his favorite mug, and got to work—this time with a little extra help.

A sprinkle of magnesium citrate not harmful, but definitely… effective.

A harmless lesson in manners.

Ten minutes later, she entered his office with the cup in hand. “Here you go. Just how you like it extra strong. Not decaf.”

He took a sip. “Hmm. That’s more like it.”

She gave him a sugary smile. “I hope your entire day goes smoothly.”

The morning passed quietly. For the first time in weeks, Karl didn’t call her name every five minutes. In fact, he barely called her at all.

Instead, he kept making trips. To the restroom. Over. And over.

By noon, he was pale and sweating slightly.

By two, he had given up calling anyone and was slumped in his chair, groaning.

Mia passed by Olivia’s desk. “What happened to Karl? He looks like he’s been cursed.”

Olivia sipped her coffee with satisfaction. “Oh, must be something he drank.”

Mia narrowed her eyes and grinned. “Girl…”

Olivia shrugged. “Just a little country remedy. It fixes stubbornness.”

Karl peeked out of his office, miserable. “Olivia—!”

She raised her brows.

He froze. “Never mind.”

She leaned back, arms crossed, completely content. For once, peace had returned to the office.

The office was unusually quiet that morning.

Olivia sat at her desk, flipping through reports, but her mind was elsewhere. Her phone buzzed. Seeing her uncle’s name flash across the screen, she quickly answered.

“Uncle Ben?”

“Liv,” his voice was tight. “It’s your dad. He’s in the hospital. They found something… it's serious.”

Her heart dropped. “What happened?”

“He collapsed this morning. The doctors say it’s intestine cancer. Stage two. They need to operate soon.”

Her hand trembled. “Oh my God…”

“They’re doing more tests, but… I thought you should know.”

“I’ll come as soon as I can,” she whispered. Her throat tightened as tears welled up.

She ended the call, sat frozen in her chair, and stared at the screen. For a long moment, she didn’t move. Just breathed. Slowly. Deeply.

She had no one in the city. No close friends except Mia. No family around.

And yet, she couldn’t fall apart.

“Olivia!” Karl’s voice echoed from inside his office. “Where’s that report?”

She blinked, snapped back to reality. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she stood, grabbed the folder, and entered his office.

He looked up from his chair. “What took you so long—?”

But he stopped mid-sentence.

She didn’t meet his eyes as she placed the file on his desk. “Here’s the report you asked for.”

He stared at her. Something in her voice, her posture, was different. The usual spark was gone. She looked… distant.

“Hey,” he said slowly, “what’s wrong with you today? Did I break your spirit already?”

She gave a soft, dry laugh. “You don’t have that kind of power.”

He frowned. “Then what is it?”

She paused. She wasn’t sure why she said it—but she did.

“My dad was just diagnosed with cancer.” Her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper. “He’s back home, in the hospital.”

For a second, Karl didn’t say anything.

“Oh.”

“That’s all?” she raised an eyebrow, pain glinting in her eyes.

“I mean… damn, Olivia. I didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I.” She turned to leave, but he called her name again—this time softer.

“Wait. Do you want… time off?”

She blinked, surprised.

“No,” she said. “I’ll work. I have rent to pay.”

He leaned forward, lips pressing together. “I can—”

“No need,” she cut in. “You’ve got enough women depending on your money already.”

He flinched. But oddly, he didn’t snap back.

“…Alright. But if you need anything, you come to me.”

She met his gaze, eyes cold but tired. “I won’t.”

Then she left the room, shoulders straight, chin high.

Karl watched the door close. For the first time, he didn’t feel the urge to tease her, annoy her, or call her name again.

Instead, for reasons he didn’t fully understand, he actually worried about her.

The office dynamic had shifted.

For the first time since she started, Karl wasn’t constantly calling out, “Olivia!” every five minutes like an overgrown child craving attention. No ridiculous demands, no asking her to rearrange his bookshelf in alphabetical order again, and certainly no late-night calls just to hear her groan and hang up.

In fact, that morning, he made his own coffee.

Olivia noticed the faint scent of roasted beans wafting from his office when she walked past, and it made her pause. She peeked in through the glass wall—he was standing by the espresso machine, sleeves rolled up, hair messier than usual, stirring sugar into the cup with a scowl on his face like it had personally offended him.

She raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Making your own coffee now?” she teased lightly, breaking her silence for the first time that day.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, expression unreadable. “Didn’t want you to spit in it today,” he muttered, lifting the cup.

A corner of her mouth twitched. “Tempting, but I only poison coffee on special occasions.”

He gave a dry smirk, then returned to his seat.

But even with the sarcasm, something felt different.

He didn't call her again unless it was something genuinely work-related—client schedules, document requests, a presentation draft. No teasing, no childish complaints. He wasn’t suddenly kind, but he wasn’t insufferable either.

She tried not to let it get to her.

Still, the change… she noticed it.

He didn’t ask why she was quieter than usual. He didn’t pry. But when she walked past his desk, there was a second where she felt his eyes linger a little longer. Watching. Not in his usual arrogant, undressing-you-with-his-eyes way, but… curious. Careful.

Like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how.

“Miss Benson,” he called that afternoon.

She looked up from her laptop.

“Take an early break. You look like you need air.”

She blinked. “Are you giving me permission to take a break?”

“I’m ordering you to,” he said, leaning back in his chair with that signature smug look—like he hadn’t just said the nicest thing he’d ever said to her.

She tilted her head. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I just don’t want a zombie assistant collapsing in the middle of a meeting tomorrow.”

Despite herself, she smiled faintly. “I’ll take the zombie part as affection.”

“You wish,” he shot back, but there was no venom in it—just something softer, hidden behind the shield he wore so well.

As she stepped out of the building, the wind brushing her cheeks, she whispered, “Thanks…” to no one in particular.

Inside, Karl sipped his coffee, grimacing at the taste.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “How the hell does she make it taste so good?”

Then he glanced at the door she had just walked through and stared for a moment longer than he should.

Olivia stepped out of the elevator, her steps slower than usual. The early evening sun painted soft gold through the windows of the apartment hallway. For once, she wasn’t dragging her body in past midnight after one of Karl Johnson’s exhausting days of toying with her patience.

He had told her—ordered her, really—to go home early.

But of course, not without his usual smug comment.

“Don’t get used to it, country girl. I just need you functioning tomorrow.”

She’d rolled her eyes, biting back a sarcastic reply, and left.

Now, as she unlocked the door to Mia’s apartment, the comforting silence inside welcomed her like a warm hug. She slipped off her shoes and let her bag fall to the floor before dragging herself toward the couch.

Collapsing onto the cushions, Olivia exhaled deeply and stared at the ceiling.

“Dad…”

The memory of the phone call from the hospital echoed in her mind. Her father’s voice had sounded weak, barely audible, but still trying to act like everything was fine. The doctor had explained the situation in careful words—intestinal cancer, immediate surgery recommended, high cost.

She turned onto her side, hugging a pillow close to her chest. Her throat tightened.

“Five thousand dollars just for the operation,” she whispered to herself, voice trembling. “And that’s just the beginning…”

She bit her lip hard, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill. Crying wouldn’t fix anything. She had to think.

“You’re strong, Liv. You didn’t come all the way to this city to break down now.”

She knew Mia would help if she asked—but her best friend was already struggling with rent and classes. And asking Karl? That wasn’t even an option. He’d probably mock her for it, or worse, think she was trying to seduce him for money like one of his many flings.

“God, no. He’d love to use that against me.”

And yet… despite all his arrogance, she couldn’t ignore the way he’d looked at her today. There was something behind that usual smirk, a flicker of concern he didn’t want her to see. But she saw it.

And it only made things harder.

The city lights started to glow outside as she sat up, pulling her knees to her chest.

She whispered, “I need a plan. I need to find a second job… something, anything.”

Her phone buzzed on the table. She grabbed it, her heart sinking when she saw the name flashing across the screen.

Karl Johnson.

She stared at it for a second.

“Seriously?” she muttered. “Does he not know what early break means?”

Still, she answered with a heavy sigh. “What is it now?”

His voice came through, teasing and smooth. “Is this how you answer your boss, Benson? So rude.”

“I thought you weren’t calling me tonight,” she grumbled.

He chuckled. “I didn’t say that. I just said I let you go early. I never said I wouldn’t haunt your evening.”

She groaned. “Karl, I swear—”

“Relax. Just checking if you made it home in one piece. You're not used to being dismissed from my kingdom so early.”

She froze at that. Was… he checking on her?

There was a pause on the line.

“…Did something happen?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer now. “You looked… off today.”

Her lips parted, caught off guard by the unexpected shift in tone. But she quickly gathered herself.

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Just tired.”

“…Right. Good. Don’t slack tomorrow. I want my coffee the moment I arrive.”

And just like that, the arrogant tone was back. She smiled faintly despite herself.

“Sure, Your Highness,” she muttered, ending the call before he could say more.

She placed the phone down slowly.

Even when she wanted to hate him… he always found a way to make her heart stir.

The bass thumped hard through the velvet walls of Velvet 45, one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. Neon lights pulsed to the beat, glasses clinked, laughter spilled across VIP booths, and the scent of expensive perfume lingered in the air.

Karl Johnson leaned back on the plush leather seat in the VIP section, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other resting over his stomach. He was surrounded by noise, bodies moving around him, attention drawn to him like moths to a flame. But his gaze was unfocused, distant.

Across from him, Damon Cross—a notorious flirt and Karl’s closest friend—watched him over his own drink.

“You good, man?” Damon asked, brows lifting. “You’ve barely touched your drink. And you’re not even watching the dancers. That’s... not you.”

Karl smirked lazily, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Maybe I’m just bored of the same thing every night.”

Damon narrowed his eyes. “Bored? You? Come on, Mr. ‘New Girl Every Night’? You were all over that blonde model last week.”

“Forgettable,” Karl muttered, taking a small sip.

Before Damon could pry further, a tall, sultry brunette in a red silk dress approached their booth. Her lips curled into a practiced smile as she leaned close to Karl, fingers brushing his shoulder.

“Hey, handsome,” she purred. “Mind if I join you?”

Karl didn’t even glance at her. “Not interested.”

The girl blinked, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I said, not tonight.” His tone was firm but not rude.

She scoffed, clearly offended, before flipping her hair and strutting away with a huff.

Damon stared at Karl like he’d grown a second head. “Okay, what the hell was that? You just rejected a literal runway model. Did I wake up in a parallel universe?”

Karl chuckled under his breath and downed the rest of his drink, standing up and buttoning his jacket. “I’m heading home.”

Damon stood, confused. “Wait, seriously? It’s barely midnight.”

Karl threw a few bills on the table. “You stay. I’ve got… things to do.”

“Things?” Damon raised a brow. “What things? You never leave the club unless you’re bringing someone home.”

Karl paused for a second, lips twitching into a smirk.

“Guess I’m evolving,” he said dryly before walking off.

Damon watched him leave, shaking his head.

“This ain’t about business,” he murmured to himself. “This is about her…”

Karl’s car ride home was unusually quiet. He loosened his tie as he leaned back in the leather seat, staring out at the blurred city lights. But all he could see in his mind… was her.

That country girl with sharp comebacks and innocent eyes.

Olivia Benson.

Why the hell can’t I stop thinking about her?

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—annoyed, sassy, or quietly hurt when she thought no one was looking. And when she’d answered his call earlier that evening with that tired little voice?

It had bothered him more than he liked to admit.

She said she was fine… But something’s wrong.

And now, not even the taste of whiskey or the touch of another woman could distract him. Not anymore.

The conference room was filled with the usual buzz of executives flipping through presentations, assistants adjusting projector settings, and the low hum of tension before a major meeting.

Karl Johnson walked in last, as always. The room fell into a short hush before the murmuring resumed. He was sharp in his custom-tailored suit, a cold expression on his face that masked the storm inside him. He took his seat at the head of the table.

Olivia Benson was already there, seated to his right as his assistant.

She wore a simple blouse and a pencil skirt, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. No makeup, no effort to impress, yet Karl’s eyes found her instantly.

She was scribbling notes in her leather-bound pad, quiet, head low. Not even a glance toward him. Not even the usual annoyed eye roll she gave him every morning.

She looks tired.

He hated that he noticed.

Karl leaned slightly toward her, voice low so only she could hear.

"You forget how to talk today, country girl? Or are you just ignoring me?"

Normally, she’d shoot back a glare or a sarcastic remark. But today?

Nothing.

She just kept writing.

“Didn’t sleep well?” he added, feigning indifference but watching her closely from the corner of his eye.

Still nothing. Only the faintest shrug.

His jaw tightened.

The meeting began. The CEO of their design partner started droning about numbers and projections, but Karl wasn’t listening. Not really.

His gaze kept drifting toward Olivia.

Her shoulders seemed smaller today. She wasn’t sitting with her usual quiet fire. And the way she clutched her pen so tightly made something twist in his chest.

He wasn’t used to feeling that.

Worried?

No. That couldn’t be it.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, forcing himself to look at the projection screen. But it was no use. His attention was fixed on the way she sighed under her breath, the way she blinked a little too often like she was holding something back.

His hand reached toward his coffee cup before realizing she hadn’t brought him one today.

Right. He told her not to.

And now he kind of missed it.

Karl scoffed under his breath. Pathetic.

As the presentation ended and everyone stood to discuss details, he leaned toward Olivia again.

“You mad at me or something?” he muttered. “Or you just too sad to throw your usual sass?”

That made her pause. She looked up at him slowly.

Her eyes weren’t angry. Just… tired.

“No, Mr. Johnson,” she said softly. “I’m just doing my job.”

He blinked.

Mr. Johnson?

Not “sir.” Not “Karl.” Not even “bossy jerk,” like she’d snapped last week in the elevator.

It unsettled him more than he liked.

“Well, do it with more attitude next time,” he grumbled, straightening in his seat. “You’re boring when you’re this quiet.”

Olivia let out a faint breath and returned to her notes.

And Karl?

He hated how the words sat in his chest. Heavy. Wrong.

Because deep down, beneath all the arrogance and expensive suits…

He didn’t want her to be quiet.

He wanted her to be her again.