“I can’t believe you’re going to ditch me,” Viktor pouts. “I’m going to be sitting here alone at the table, looking like I got stood up…”
“Cry me a damn river,” I retort while I fire off a response to let the crew know I’ll be back ASAP. “Some of us have work to do.”
“But you’ll be at the party this weekend, right?”
I finish off the last of my drink. “The one at the house where I still live in the pool house out back? Yes, Viktor, I will be there.”
“Great. See you then, sis.”
I’m suspicious of his motives, but I don’t stick around to ask questions. Instead, I grab my lunch to go and book it out of Sakana. Apparently, someone ripped open the back of their shark costume, and I need to sew them back into it to keep the show running. While I wait for the elevators, I run through my list of options for how to temporarily fix the rip without making it hard to do proper repairs tonight.
The elevator dings. I step forward, focused on my plan, already halfway lost in the logistics of this absurd day.
The doors slide open.
And standing there, filling the space with his broad, too-damn-familiar frame, is... shit. It’s him. Elevator Guy.
And we meet again outside another contraption invented by Otis back in 1852.
My breath catches in my throat, and time slows down for just a second, long enough for my pulse to pound in my ears. He looks just as devastating as he did the first time—maybe more so. The kind of guy who knocks the air out of your lungs without even trying. His dark hair is tousled, and those blue eyes pierce through the dim lighting of the elevator, locking on mine as though he’s been waiting for me all day.
What the hell is he doing here?
I should say something—anything—to cut through the thick tension building between us. But my mind is blank. For the love of all things holy, my brain has just decided to shut down.
His eyes rake over me, taking in every inch like he’s sizing me up. The way he looks at me makes my skin burn like he’s seeing something deeper than I’m comfortable with. And for a split second, I want to know what’s going through his head. Is he curious? Confused? Or just waiting for me to step off because he’s disappointed in what I look like as a mere mortal?
Before I can even process a thought, his voice—low, gravelly, and way too sexy for my sanity—cuts through the silence. “You again.”
Two words. That’s all he says. But damn if they don’t send a shiver down my spine.
I should move. I should step inside, press a button, do something. But all I can think about is how this guy—a complete stranger—makes me feel like I’m standing on the edge of something dangerous, like one wrong move could send me tumbling into a mess I’m not sure I want to get out of.
Elevator Guy’s eyes widen. His face lights up in a grin, and goddamn, he really is striking. That jaw peppered with scruff. Those cheekbones. Thosearms.
He extends one hand toward me, and at first I think he’s going to touch my face or try to put his arm around me or something. Then I realize that he’s just holding the door for me until I step inside.
I take a wary step forward. “Are you stalking me?”
The air between us is thick—too thick for this tiny elevator, too heavy with things unsaid. My heart’s pounding harder than it should be. This isn’t normal. He’s not normal.
“Nope. Not my style. I’m here for a massage.” Elevator Guy lifts one shoulder, like it’s no big deal.
“Uh-huh. The spa is next to the adults-only pool.” I point across the ground floor. “Nice try.”
“Okay, maybe I just wanted to know your real hair color.” His eyes sweep over me.
“It’s blond.” I point to my hair, which is now on full display.
“See, I thought you might be a ginger. You’re a little spicy.” Elevator Guy wiggles his eyebrows.
“I’m a lot spicy.” I finally step into the elevator with him, because I really do have to get back to work. I notice that he doesn’t select a floor even after the door closes. I was right, he’s here for me. Which is kind of flattering, and kind of, I don’t know, a little much. Too desperate. Too clingy for someone I just met. I’m not gonna lie and say that I don’t look for any excuse to give a guy the boot before I even think about getting attached to him.
That’s just what I do.
But in this rare case, I promised Mia and Jaime that I’d give him a chance if I ran into him again, so he has until I reach my floor to convince me he’s being cute and not skeezy.
He exhales slowly like he’s been carrying the weight of those words for too long. “I did come here to look for you,” he admits. “I saw your costume on the arena marquee, and thought it might be my only chance to ask your name.”