Page 65 of Game Misconduct
The doors close, sealing us in steel and silence.
I jam my thumb against seven. She presses nine a beat later, the penthouse button glowing like it mocks me.
She shifts beside me, posture perfect, spine steel. But I feel the crackle of nerves in her air. She clears her throat, and the sound is soft enough to slide under my skin.
“Well,” she says finally, voice cool, and professional, too even. “Today went better than expected.”
I almost laugh. The sound comes out low, rough, and nothing like amusement. “That your way of saying I didn’t fuck it up?”
Her head snaps toward me. Her eyes—God, her eyes—flash sharp as cut glass. “You didn’t. The kids loved you.” A pause, softer. “More than you think.”
My chest tightens. I should let it go, let the words hang.
Instead, I take a step closer, because I’m already at my wits’ end. Her perfume threads the air—clean, sharp, expensive—and I’m drowning in it.
“Careful,” I murmur. My voice is gravel dragged over stone. “Sounded almost like a compliment.”
She doesn’t back up. Doesn’t flinch. Her chin lifts, lips curved in that dangerous line between smile and blade. “Maybe it was.”
The floor hums under us, car sliding higher, too damn slow and too fast all at once. My pulse pounds hard enough that I can feel it in my throat.
I take another step, close enough now that the heat of herbody radiates against mine. My hand braces against the wall beside her head before I think better of it.
Her breath stutters. Just enough that I catch it.
Fuck.
I lean in, the space between us collapsing until her scent—like roses and amber—is all I can breathe, until her mouth is a whisper away from mine.
Her eyes partially close and her lips part, just slightly. “Maddox…”
The sight of her like this and my name on her lips wrecks me.
Everything inside me snarls to take, to taste, to finally break the leash we’ve both been yanking on since the day we met.
Then the elevator dings, and the doors whisk open.
Seventh floor.
My floor.
Sanity slams back, and I curse under my breath, pushing away from her and all her heat.
Her eyes are wide, chest rising quick against the silk of her blouse.
For one heartbeat, I want to say fuck it and close the gap anyway.
Instead, I step out, but turn to take one last look until the doors slide shut between us.
I’m left in the hall, pulse thundering, mouth dry, hating myself for walking away and hating worse that I wanted to stay.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sloane
The doorto my condo shuts with a quiet click that feels louder than the entire hospital had been.
For a moment, I just stand there in the foyer, heels still on, blazer still buttoned, handbag still slung heavy against my shoulder like I might have to run back out and face it all again.
