Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Oliver’s jaw clenched so tight a small muscle twitched in his cheek.

Behind his wire-rimmed glasses, his dark eyes dilated, his chest heaving under his crisp white coat as he fought a losing battle against his own physiology. He was trying to rationalize the sensation, trying to index it as a simple tactile input, but the sheer heat radiating from her skin through the nylon was completely frying his circuits.

April’s smirk widened just a fraction, her eyes sparkling with wicked, quiet amusement. Still trying to play the robot, Doctor?

She shifted her foot, preparing to drag her leg back to tease him again—

Suddenly, a hand shot down beneath the tablecloth.

Before April could pull away, Oliver’s long fingers clamped firmly around her ankle.

April’s breath caught in her throat, her playful smirk instantly freezing. The grip wasn’t painful, but it was surprisingly strong, uncompromising, and hot against her stocking-clad skin.

Oliver didn’t look down. He kept his head held high, his posture straight as a rod, his eyes locking onto hers with a sudden, sharp intensity that had nothing to do with science and everything to do with pure, raw instinct.

His thumb brushed over the delicate bone of her ankle, a slow, possessive stroke that sent a quiet, unexpected shiver straight up her spine.

”Hypothesis confirmed,” Oliver said softly, his voice dropping into a low, raspy register that sent a sudden spike of heat through the quiet balcony. ”The tactile stimulus is intentional.”

Across the table, Xavier’s dark eyes flicked down to the edge of the tablecloth. Noticing the unnatural tension in Oliver’s shoulder and the slight angle of his arm extending beneath the table, Xavier leaned back slightly and cast his gaze downward into the shadow of the table.

There, right in plain sight, Oliver’s fingers were clamped firmly around April’s delicate ankle, his thumb slowly stroking her black stocking.

Xavier’s composure instantly evaporated, a dark, dangerous fury flashing in his eyes as he snapped his head back up. He set his wine glass down hard enough to make the silver cutlery rattle against the porcelain.

”Oliver,” Xavier growled out, his raspy voice dropping into a dangerously low register that cut through the quiet balcony. ”Take your hands off her.”

Oliver didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at Xavier. For several quiet seconds, he simply sat there, his eyes locked onto April’s with an unreadable, intense focus while his fingers remained wrapped securely around her ankle. The silence stretched thin, heavy with a sudden, suffocating heat.

Slowly, deliberately, Oliver unclasped his fingers and drew his hand back up, resting it calmly on the table.

”I did not let go because Reed asked me to,” Oliver stated flatly, his voice maintaining its clinical poise despite the faint flush lingering on his neck. ”But because I am curious, Miss April... what was the aim toward that stimulus?”

April’s heart gave a slight, traitorous thud against her ribs. The table had turned far quicker than she had anticipated, and the quiet, steady pressure of his hand on her ankle had caught her completely off guard. But she didn’t let her composure crumble.

Leaning back in her chair, April tilted her head, a sharp, challenging spark glittering in her dark eyes as she turned his own trap right back onto him.

”I’ll tell you,” April murmured softly, a dangerous, playful smirk touching her lips, ”if you reveal whether it had an effect or not.”

Oliver’s jaw tightened subtly behind his glasses.

April watched him closely, thoroughly enjoying the sudden, delicious checkmate she had maneuvered him into. If he admitted it had an effect, he would be forced to abandon his cold, untouchable scientific facade and acknowledge his own human desires. If he claimed it had no effect at all, he was—in a way—practically declaring himself non-functional as a man.

Oliver remained silent for a long moment, his analytical mind visibly running through the tactical loss. A faint, telltale pink dusted the top of his cheekbones as he adjusted his glasses with a single finger.

”The results of this observation,” Oliver replied smoothly, his voice tight, ”shall remain strictly classified within my private medical journal.”

April let out a low, amused hum, her dark eyes gleaming with quiet victory. ”Classified? Sounds like a coward’s way of avoiding a direct answer, Doctor.”

”It is standard protocol to secure sensitive research data,” Oliver countered smoothly, though the flush on his neck had deepened a noticeable shade. He adjusted his cuffs, forcing his hands back into a neat, motionless posture over his lap. ”Unvetted disclosures lead to compromised variables.”

Then, he leaned his body forward across the table, his dark eyes locking onto hers through his wire-rimmed glasses with an unblinking, heavy intensity.

”However, if you are curious, Miss April,” Oliver murmured, his voice dropping into a low, quiet register, ”I can make time for a one-on-one session. In private, I can tell you everything you want to know.”

April raised a single eyebrow, her lips parting slightly in quiet surprise.

Wait... is he flirting with me?

His face remained completely deadpan, stripped of any obvious emotion, but his words were a blatant provocation—an explicit invitation to be alone together, away from Xavier to ’share’ his secrets.

April gave her head a tiny, subtle shake, dismissing the thought almost instantly. No, she was definitely reading too much into it. There was no way this stone-cold, scientific robot possessed that kind of romantic or provocative interest in anyone. He was just being infuriatingly analytical.

She had seen way too much of Nat’s shameless flirtatious attempts and assumed this was the same situation, but Nat and Oliver had two different personalities and meanings to their words.

Before Oliver could expand on his offer, Xavier interjected, his fist coming down onto the table with a firm, suppressed thud that made the crystal glasses rattle.

Xavier was practically seething, his eyes fixed on the doctor with absolute, unadulterated coldness. He hated this. He hated that even now, on what was supposed to be their very first proper date, another man was brazenly trying to steal April’s attention, trying to lure her in with his endless clinical gibberish.

In Xavier’s mind, April was entirely blameless; it was the men who constantly hovered around her like attention-seeking flies that were the problem. They could see clear as day that she was out with someone else, yet they still insisted on shoving themselves directly into the equation.

”Dr. Baxter,” Xavier gritted out, his raspy voice laced with a lethal, warning edge as he leaned across the candlelight. ”Your presence here has officially crossed the line from a nuisance to a boundary violation. If you do not stand up and walk back to your clients within the next five seconds, I will personally help you inform your clients your whereabout.”