Page 44 of The Naughty List

“What the hell was that?” I ask, panicking. My throat tightens as the emergency lights come on.

“It’s okay, I’m sure it’s just stuck.”

“Stuck!?”

“I’m sure it will be back up and running any second.” He pokes around on the panel, but nothing happens.

I glance at my watch. We’ve only been in here a few moments, but it already feels like an eternity.

“Let me call down to Todd.” Alex holds his phone to his ear then pulls it away to look at the screen. “Shit, no reception. What about you?”

I grab my phone and check. “No bars.” I hold it up for him to see.

He steps around me to press the phone button on the elevator control panel, and it begins to ring. A moment later, a woman answers.

“Hello, 911. What’s your emergency?”

“Hey, this is Alex Snow over at Snow Communications on Van Buren. We’re stuck in an elevator. Emergency lights are on and neither of us has cell reception.”

“Okay, sir, is anyone injured?”

“No, we’re fine.”

“How many people are in the elevator?”

“Just myself and one of my employees.”

“Are either of you over the age of sixty-five or have any medical conditions?”

“No.”

“Just one second please…okay.I have your address from the elevator response call. We can get fire and rescue over to you—just one second, sir.”

The line goes quiet, and we look at each other.

“Sorry, sir, but we are actually getting word that the entire city block is without power. We have several more elevator calls coming in right now. I’m being told that fire and rescue will be dispatched shortly and start prioritizing rescues.”

“Prioritizing them based on what?”

“On age, health, any injuries.”

“So any idea how long we’ll be in here?”

“Sorry, sir. No idea. We will maintain contact through the emergency phone line. As soon as fire and rescue are on their way to you, we’ll let you know.”

4

ALEX

“I’m sweating, are you sweating? It feels stifling in here.”

Sadie plucks at her sweater, pulling it away from her neck as her panicked eyes dart around the elevator.

She’s the epitome of a Christmas Hallmark movie heroine, like the ones I’ve seen in commercials. A crisp white collar pokes above the edge of her red sweater, her black tights and black skirt hugging her slim figure. She reminds me of the girls I went to prep school with; sophisticated and elegant, but with a touch of something mysterious simmering just beneath the surface.

“It is hot in here, yes,” I reply, tugging at my tie. “You know, you could take your sweater off.” I don’t mean for my voice to drop an octave, but it does, sounding much flirtier than I’d intended. Not that I mind. Besides, I want to keep her mind engaged and prevent her from spiraling into a full-blown meltdown over our current situation.

“I have a shirt underneath,” she says quickly, her eyes snapping to mine. Her hand is still clenched around the bottle of rum, her purse clutched to her side.

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