Two
SAWYER
Just after I had managed to get my high back from the phone call with Vic, it begins to dwindle again the longer it takes the elevator to reach my floor.
I repeatedly hit the down button a few more times, knowing this does absolutely nothing to make it move faster.
I press the up button just for shits and giggles too.
Another minute goes by before I give up, heading for the stairwell in exasperation.
Not looking forward to descending twenty-three flights of stairs in my high heels, I consider taking them off.
That’s when the ding of the elevator’s arrival has me whipping my body back around once again.
If the security guards happen to have their monitors tuned into the north elevator bank of this floor at the moment, I’m sure they’re having a good laugh.
I’m disappointed when I realize it’s the up arrow that’s illuminated, but I get in the car anyway. It has to go down at some point, right? I hit the “G” on the panel and hope that the elevator will begin its journey down to the garage.
“Damn it,” I curse to myself when I feel the car start to rise.
I check my phone for the time. If I were to be in my car, leaving right this moment, I would only be a few minutes late.
But now, forget it. With the unexpected wait, the added ride up instead of down, not to mention the horrendous traffic that I’m certain awaits me, I’ll be lucky if I’m only fifteen minutes late to work this morning.
This isn’t going to end well. I think about how upset Daniel is going to be when I finally get there. I pull up the messaging app on my phone and send him a quick text.
Me:
The elevator is acting up again. I might be a little late this morning.
He’s going to be upset, but not as upset as he’ll be if I don’t give him a heads up.
It’s not easy working with your boyfriend.
Especially not when he’s Daniel Kramer. It’s a struggle to get along with him under the best circumstances.
He prefers things a certain way and when his expectations are rattled ... well, he doesn’t react too well.
My anxiety sets in more and more with each beep announcing that another floor has passed until finally, the “P” lights up, letting me know I’ve arrived at the top floor.
Penthouse.
My interest is piqued, nosiness momentarily slaying the angst eating away at me, as I’ve never been to the top floor of our building. You need to enter a code on the keypad even to be able to press the “P”.
I’ve always wondered who lives up here. This is one of the most affluent condominium complexes in the city, so you have to be fairly wealthy to be able to afford even the smallest condos in the building.
Despite growing up with the money my family had, I still can’t imagine what it must be like owning the penthouse.
As the doors slide open, I suppress a gasp when I realize someone is standing there.
I manage to catch his sandy blonde hair and chiseled chin before tearing my eyes away.
He’s gorgeous, and I’m shocked by my reaction to him.
My heart flutters slightly, and a cold sweat breaks out over my flushed skin.
I never react like this when I see another man.
Curiosity has me wanting to take another look, if for no other reason than to figure out what it is about this man.
I turn my attention to my phone, trying to rid my mind of him, but I can’t. Carefully, I lift my travel mug to my lips and use the moment to let my eyes wander. He’s older than my twenty-seven years, but not by much. And damn, is he tall. In his expensive suit, he looks like a model.
Is he?
I wait for him to enter the elevator car, but he doesn’t move. He just stands there in front of the open doors looking at his phone, as if other people’s time means nothing to him. Like he’s the king of this complex and no one’s life is as important as his.
Glancing behind him, I take in the extravagant details of the lobby outside of his front door.
Damn.
The furnishings in our condo are extremely lavish, but this glorified vestibule puts our place to shame.
I clear my throat, jolting his attention to the open and waiting elevator. I watch him as he finally walks in, completely unaffected. No apologies for keeping me waiting or anything like that. I roll my eyes and look away.
Feeling his stare on me as he slides over to the other side of the car, I give in and allow myself to look once more.
My eyes meet his soft, chocolate brown stare briefly before flitting back to the panel in front of me.
He looks familiar. I swear I’ve seen him somewhere before.
I stare at him with my peripheral vision, trying to figure it out.
Irritated that I’m so affected by him, I place a finger on the door close button and push hard.
I’ve probably seen him around the building before.
Unless he is a model. Maybe I’ve seen him on a billboard somewhere.
As we finally begin our descent, I check the time again.
Momentarily distracted by this asshole with zero regard for other people’s time, I’m quickly reminded that I am running late.
Thirty floors to the lobby, plus one more to the garage.
I hope, by some grace of God, that traffic isn’t too crazy today.
If only I had my racecar. If only the streets of West Hollywood were the speedway.
I’m ripped from my thoughts as the elevator skids to a stop.
The bright, fluorescent lights shut off, and we’re left bathed in a shadowed, red hue from the emergency light.
I gasp in shock at the sudden change in speed as coffee spews from the small opening in my lid.
Hitting the skin of my wrist, it burns for a second before I wipe it away with my other hand.
I reach for the buttons again, hastily pressing them, as if this will bring the elevator back to life. Nothing happens.
“Oh, come on,” I grumble, banging on the door of the electrical panel.
“I’m uncertain, but I don’t believe that will fix the problem,” he says, laughing slightly at my outburst.
A comedian, huh?
Any trace of allure that he held when I first laid eyes on him has diminished.
Liar.
“Well, obviously,” I shoot him an irritated, sarcastic glare.
He laughs again but says nothing. I’m panicking the longer we go without the elevator starting back up again.
I cannot afford to be even more late than I already am.
Even if it weren’t for my fear of Daniel, I have a big meeting in a couple hours that I need to prepare for.
“Just hit the call button, someone will respond,” he breaks the silence after a few moments.
I roll my eyes at his nonchalant attitude as he steps beside me, pushing the emergency call button himself.
But when I catch a whiff of his cologne, my mouth practically waters.
It’s a delectable combination of sandalwood and citrus.
Just the right amount to leave it swirling in my nostrils without it overpowering me.
Damn it.
My thoughts provoke anger within me. I don’t have any business being allured or affected by the smell of another man.
I don’t need to land myself in that type of trouble.
Besides, I’m sure he thinks that I’m just some silly girl in need of saving.
Like I’m going to consider him some kind of hero for pushing a button.
He doesn’t say anything further, just keeps trying to call for help with no response.
I give it a few minutes before I lose my patience and step in.
I’ll show him exactly what kind of girl I am.
I drop my phone into my purse then place it and my coffee mug down on the floor of the elevator. He moves out of the way to get a better look at what I’m doing, and the smell disappears. I miss it, but I immediately scold myself for my thoughts once again.
I pick up keys so I can use them to pry the doors open. Daddy owns one of the largest construction and real estate firms in the country, so I’ve been on countless building sites with him over the years. I’ve seen workers pry open elevator doors plenty of times. I’m sure I can figure it out.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Trying to pry the doors open so we can get out.”
He grabs my attention when another tiny snicker comes out of his mouth.
“You’re just going to ... what? Hop out of the elevator?” I don’t appreciate his condescending tone.
“Well, I’m going to try. You’ve pressed the button a bunch of times. No one is answering. Seems you’ve exhausted all of your helpful ideas.”
“Yeah, well I’m sure they’re busy trying to figure out how to get us out of here.”
“You can’t always wait around for someone to save you,” I tell him. “Sometimes you have to save yourself.”
He looks like he wants to say something else but thinks better of it. Or maybe he doesn’t have a good come back. Either way, now that I’ve just told him that I am going to save us, I need to figure out how to do it.
Way to go, Sawyer.
Using the mini screwdriver keychain on my keyring, I begin working it in between the doors. For several minutes I try getting them open, all the while suffering painful scrutiny from this… guy… this Penthouse Prick. I can tell that he thinks I’m insane. Like I’ve lost my marbles.
Right now, it feels like I have.
It takes several minutes, but I manage to get the first set of doors open. I’m just as surprised as he is, but I mask it with a smug look and a pop of my eyebrow.
Now that they’re open, I see that we’re stuck between two floors.
Shit.
I crouch as good as I can in a skirt and start wiggling my screwdriver between the two doors on the lower floor. Once I finally manage to get the screwdriver in between them, I shake my hand, relieving some of the pain from the pressure I had to use.
“You should stop before you hurt yourself.”
“Aw, you’re not worried about me, are you?” I turn my attention up toward him.
Just then, the elevator drops slightly, scaring the shit out of us both.
“Shit!” I call out at the same time as he shouts, “Fuck!”