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I hurry to the elevator, getting in as soon as it arrives with a ding. I hope that didn’t wake him, but it shouldn’t have. The bedroom is quite far.

Alone in the small space, I pace back and forth, my chest tightening with each step.

What have I done? I don’t know this man, yet I spent the night in his bed and loved every second. It was casual sex. We don’t know each other. The thought stings more than I expected.

Why am I so anxious about this? I’ve always prided myself on being levelheaded, yet Elijah turns me into an indecisive mess that can’t discern left from right.

Elijah. His lips, his hands... I even smell like him.

The tender way he held me afterward and traced patterns on my skin as I drifted off to sleep... It felt like something more than a casual hookup. At least to me.

Did I make a mistake by sleeping with him? Or by leaving? He seemed angry about it yesterday. But going back up is no longer an option. I might grab something from the bakery and say, ‘Hey, got croissants for us, not at all running away.’

Yeah, real smooth.

He’s probably happy I left and doesn’t have to deal with me.

At least I got amazing sex out of it.

The elevator halts, and I put on my heels before stepping out into the lobby with my head turned down. This moment makes the walk of shame feel particularly fitting. My heels click against the marble floor as I rush to get out.

“Ms.?” someone says behind me.

I keep walking.

“Ms. Gemma?”

I freeze in place. Did she say my name? Slowly, I turn to face the source of the voice and point at myself, tilting my head.

“Are you Gemma?” the receptionist asks.

“I am.”

“I have a message for you. From your husband.”

My brows furrow, and I step closer to her desk. It can’t be. “My husband? Oliver?”

Her composure falters as she glances at the note in her hands. “I apologize for the confusion, Ms. Aren’t you the lady who came down from M—” She clears her throat. “The penthouse floor?”

Does she mean Elijah, who apparently impersonates my husband now? I can’t even get rid of my current one, and now I have two? Brilliant. I give a slight nod, aware of how foolish I must appear standing and staring at her. “Uh… yes. I guess. If a man named Elijah lives there.”

“Then it is you.” She holds out a folded note. “Your husband called and told me to give you this message.”

“He called?” Did the elevator wake him after all?

The receptionist nods.

I take the note. “Thanks.” I begin to leave but then hesitate and turn back towards the receptionist. “Excuse me. When did he call?”

“I think 3 minutes ago.”

“And… by any chance… how long does it take to get down from the penthouse?”

“With the elevator?”

“Yes.”

“Around one minute.”

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