Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
For the rest of my double shift, I don’t see Simon anywhere.
I walked the seventeenth floor multiple times and peeked into the ballroom regularly.
By the time I leave for home, I am exhausted and feeling slightly defeated.
I read a lot of romances and one of my favorite tropes is love at first sight, however I never thought that trope would apply to me.
But apparently it does. I truly am love struck by Simon.
Friday night, I get there at six p.m. again.
The conference attendees have about tripled, and since seven p.m.—when the last event of the night concluded—I’ve been directing people to where they need to go.
The whole time I’m working, I’m scanning every part of this hotel, and asking some of the attendees if they know a Simon Cheng.
They look at me like I’m nuts, but not once do they explain the weird looks.
I’m not deterred though. I continue to stalk the seventeenth floor trying to catch a glimpse of the man, but with no luck. My attempts to track down Simon come up fruitless.
Bob did say that none of the Cheng reservations had that first name, so asking Carol to look through the reservations would be a wasted effort. Not to mention the questions she would ask.
Could I have been delusional that night? Was it all in my head? It’s the only possible reason why I can’t find Simon. He either simply doesn’t exist or he’s staying with another guest and the room is under their name. That has to be it.
Now it’s hitting midnight, the hotel is finally quiet, and I start my usual rounds on the floors. As I approach the elevators, the demented one is wide open and to my surprise, Simon’s standing inside it as though he has been waiting for me.
“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” he says cheekily. “I can’t be holding up the elevator all night.”
A whoosh of breath leaves me as I stare in surprise at Simon.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I say with relief.
I’m not crazy. No sooner has my ass cleared the elevator doorway then the door slams shut.
I shiver—the sound of the door’s closing was eerily similar to the thwack of a cleaver into a cutting board.
“Christ. Those doors could hurt someone.”
“Or kill them,” Simon says flatly with no hint of humor. He then taps the button for the seventeenth floor and the elevator begins its ascent.
“Are you alright?” I have an overwhelming need to touch him again. Of course, I refrain; that would be highly unprofessional since there would be no rescue involved. “I’ve been worried that you were hurt when the elevator door attacked you.”
“I’m good. Sorry I didn’t stick around before.
I was so tired from my flight, I needed to go directly to bed.
Anyway, I hope you didn’t get into trouble.
It’s not your fault this elevator acts up,” Simon says as he touches my hand.
I shiver from his touch. And there it is again.
That zing. But this time I won’t let it go. I need to see what it could mean.
“No. But if it’s okay, I need you to sign a release form, stating that you won’t sue the hotel for what almost happened,” I explain. “My boss is worried you might.”
“I won’t sue, and I’ll sign whatever you need. Do you have the form with you?” Simon runs his eyes up and down my body before they meet mine. My core clenches at his blatant perusal.
“I don’t, but—”
The lights inside the cab start flickering and the elevator abruptly halts, throwing us into pitch darkness. Then the emergency light in the ceiling flashes on, draping the space in a shadowy red-black glow.
“Crap.” But I don’t panic. I press the emergency button on the panel, hoping the front desk picks up. When Carol doesn’t respond, I try my walkie, but it’s not working. “Hmm. Strange. I thought I changed the batteries on this thing.”
“What’s strange?”
“My walkie isn’t working. Let me try my phone.” I tap the hotel’s number, but the call doesn’t going through. It’s like we’re in a dead zone. “What the heck?”
“I’m not usually rattled by events like this, but I don’t like the dark, Melissa.” Simon wraps his arms around himself and shudders. “Those creepy mirrors aren’t helping either.”
Hating to see Simon in distress, I go to him and give him a reassuring hug.
I’m only about an inch shorter than he is, so I pull back slightly to study him.
Even in the red-black glow of the emergency lighting, his porcelain skin and gentle bone structure are beautiful.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m here. ”
“I know. But… you know what would make me feel better?” There’s a twinkle in his dark eyes.
“Now what would that be?” I squeeze him a little tighter.
“Dance with me. Please,” he pleads, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I’m disappointed because I thought he was going to ask for a kiss. But dancing? “Sure—although I’m not a good dancer at all,” I admit with a sheepish grin.
“I think you will do just fine.” My trepidation fades as Simon’s bright smile lights up his gorgeous pale face. “We need music.”
“O-kay. I couldn’t make a call, though, so I’m not sure if it’ll work.” With my cell still in my hand, I tap the app for my playlist. “What kind of music do you want?”
“Do you have Shakira?” Simon stares at the screen.
I can’t hide my smile. “I don’t,” I chuckle while scrolling through my music.
“Can I look?” he asks, presenting me with an open palm.
I hand Simon the phone, and he immediately taps at the screen until a sultry, rhythmic tune surrounds us. His fingers brush my breast as he places the phone into the front pocket of my shirt, and I feel my cheeks flush. I’m suddenly thankful for the reddish glow from the emergency light.
Simon takes my hand and tugs me closer to him. “Now dance with me.”
“I seriously don’t dance, Simon— and I bet the dance that fits this music is very complicated.”
“How do you know that?” Simon’s eyebrows hike high.
“Trust me, my mother and my abuela tried teaching me. I was born with two left feet. And…”
“And?”
“We don’t have room in here.” I shamefully use the space as an excuse and step back from him.
“I promise it’ll be easy with me. Picture the dance like it’s our love story. It doesn’t matter about the steps. Simply two people connecting through the music and movements,” he says with a hand to my cheek.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head and chuckle.
“At least try, Melissa.”
The straightness in his spine and the confidence in his eyes have me nodding. “Okay,” I agree, not wanting to disappoint him.
“Good,” he says. I love the way Simon’s eyes brighten and his lean body relaxes as soon as I’ve agreed to dance with him. In the soft glow of the emergency light, with music in the air, he’s irresistible.
Without thinking, I lean in, tip my head up ever so slightly, and taste his lips. Just a chaste kiss. But it’s enough to set my desire in flames.
He stands so still that I quickly regret my actions and step back. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”
He asked you to dance, not have sex, idiot.
Simon touches his lips and says, “My first kiss in an elevator.”