Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Solenn
The second the elevator doors closed, I knew I had made a terrible mistake.
I had spent the entire morning avoiding him. Not obviously—at least, I hoped not—but I had made sure I was never in the same room alone with him. It had been working. Until now.
Because now, it was just me and Maverick Spencer, trapped inside a small, enclosed space with nowhere to go.
I gripped the folder in my hands a little tighter, staring straight ahead as the floor numbers ticked up. It was only a few seconds. Just a normal elevator ride. In five, maybe ten seconds, I’d be out of here, back in my safe zone, pretending I wasn’t one accidental touch away from losing my mind.
Then the elevator jerked violently, followed by a sharp, metallic clunk.
And then—nothing.
The floor numbers stopped moving. The air went eerily still.
Maverick exhaled sharply beside me. “Perfect,” he muttered.
I stared at the closed doors, my pulse picking up speed. “No. Nope. This is not happening.” I reached for the control panel, pressing the button for my floor. Nothing. I hit another button. Still nothing.
Maverick stepped forward and pressed a few buttons himself, his jaw tightening. “Looks like we’re stuck.”
I took a deep breath, keeping my voice steady, professional, and calm. “I’m sure it’s just a small delay.”
He said nothing for a moment, and I could feel him studying me. Too close, too much, too everything.
Then he let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Trapped in an elevator with my assistant. Just how I wanted to start my day.”
I rolled my eyes, forcing my breathing to stay normal. “I could say the same. Not exactly my dream scenario either.”
Maverick turned his head slightly, his gaze dropping to mine. “No?”
The way he said it—low, deliberate, almost amused—sent a flicker of something dangerous down my spine.
I refused to take the bait.
I cleared my throat, shifting my grip on the folder. “Not really. My dream scenario involves coffee and a croissant. This? Slightly less ideal.”
Maverick hummed like he didn’t quite believe me.
The silence stretched, thick, suffocating, heavy with things we weren’t saying.
I should have stepped away. Should have turned my back, put space between us, do something to keep myself from remembering the way his hands had felt gripping my waist, the way his mouth had felt against my skin, the way he had completely unraveled me only nights ago.
But I didn’t move.
And neither did he.
The air in the elevator felt too warm, too still, like the entire world had pressed pause, leaving us in limbo.
Then it happened.
A small shift, a brush of fabric against the fabric, and suddenly his arm was pressing lightly against mine.
I froze.
It wasn’t a deliberate touch. It was nothing. An accident.
But I felt it everywhere.
A sharp, quick inhale. The sound of his breath shifting. The subtle tightening of my grip around my folder.
Maverick didn’t move away.
Neither did I.
I kept my gaze locked on the elevator panel, pretending I wasn’t hyper-aware of every inch of him. But my heart was pounding now, my skin burning where he had touched me.
And then, as if the universe wanted to test me, he spoke.
"Still dreaming about that croissant?" His voice was lower now, edged with something darker, quieter.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay composed. “Actually, yes.”
Maverick let out a slow exhale, and I could feel his attention shift entirely to me now.
His gaze dropped, just for a second, just long enough for my breath to catch.
Then, he leaned in slightly.
Not enough to touch me. Not enough to make it obvious.
But enough to make my pulse skyrocket.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Because I’d say your mind is somewhere else entirely."
My breath hitched, but I covered it with a sharp exhale. "You think you know everything, don’t you?"
Maverick smirked, just slightly. “I know when someone is trying too hard to seem unaffected.”
I refused to let him see how much he was affecting me. I lifted my chin, keeping my tone steady. “You must be projecting, then. Because I’m fine.”
His gaze lingered, and I saw it—the quick flicker of something else in his expression.
Amusement.
Interest.
Something else I didn’t dare name.
The space between us felt even smaller now, the tension stretched too thin, too dangerous, too inevitable.
And just when I thought I might do something stupid—something reckless—the elevator jolted.
My breath caught, and then, just like that, the lights flickered back to life. The air hummed again, the mechanical parts whirring as the elevator started moving.
The moment was shattered.
The tension? Gone.
The air cooled instantly, the weight of the moment dissolving as if it had never existed.
Maverick exhaled, stepping back slightly, his face shifting back into unreadable neutrality.
The elevator doors slid open.
I stepped out without hesitation, my heels clicking against the polished floors, my heart still hammering.
Maverick followed, walking just slightly behind me, his presence still too solid, too present.
I straightened my blouse, forcing my voice into its usual composed tone. “Well. That was a fun little break. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
I didn’t wait for his response.
I walked away.
But I felt his eyes on me the entire time.
And I knew.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.