Episode 4
Episode 4
It Must Be Fate
SUMMER
The elevator dinged and the doors opened on the twentieth floor, the one I was supposed to get off on. I straightened my shoulders, readying myself for the last meeting with Madam Alana.
“I can do this,” I whispered to myself as I looked up and lost my ability to breathe.
A man stood before me, blocking my exit. I stepped back on instinct, staring at the most attractive human I’d ever seen.
He was dark and light, reminding me of a sun-kissed day where the temperature changed drastically when a cloud crossed over the sun. His skin was the color of toasted honey, paired beautifully with dark-brown hair that had the subtlest hints of caramel. He wore a bespoke suit so dark it could have been black, but it wasn’t. It was the deepest midnight blue, the color giving off a slight sheen in the unnatural fluorescent lights of the elevator.
“Were you getting off?” The man gestured his arm to the side as though to allow me to pass.
I shook my head, incapable of speech at the moment.
His full lips compressed into a smirk as he entered the elevator. I watched in silence as he pressed the button for the lobby, which was when my brain came back online.
The doors closed and necessity forced me to take a gulping breath. I wished I hadn’t because his scent was intoxicating. An earthy desert aroma invaded my senses. There were hints of bergamot, notes of pepper, and a woodsy walnut scent giving off a masculine, cozy feeling I wanted to snuggle up with. I’d enjoy pressing my nose straight to his neck and inhaling while running my tongue along the warm surface, just so I could have a taste of that heavenly smell.
“Are you okay?” His voice wasn’t a rumbling storm as I expected, but the timbre of a man who knew he was in charge. Direct and confident layered with a coating of compassion. And it was accented. Not like a British or French lilt, but definitely European and sexy as hell.
I pressed my hand to my rapidly beating heart. “I-I…you smell fantastic,” I blurted, mentally chastising myself for being so lame. This was why I didn’t date. Men made me nervous and socially awkward.
The stranger’s lips lifted into a smile showing a neat row of white teeth. “Thank you,” he stated as his eyes seemed to trace the features of my face and down the boring, plain black dress I wore.
I must have looked like I was going to a funeral. I wasn’t usually fond of dressing so grim, preferring sunny colors and jewel tones, but my mother had encouraged me to dress appropriately for my last meeting with Madam Alana. And since the woman was always dressed severely in business attire, I’d pulled out the only thing I owned that could double as professional attire.
My funeral dress.
It was the only time I purposely wore head-to-toe tailored black. Though I imagined the platform-wedge cork sandals I wore with it softened the severity quite a bit, and also probably didn’t go as well as a pair of stilettos would have. Something I personally didn’t own.
As I stood there unspeaking, the man bent forward, bringing his face a tad closer. I swallowed nervously as he invaded my space, his broad shoulders blocking my view of anything but him.
He inhaled deeply through his nose and his coffee-colored eyes rose to meet mine, sparkling with what I believed was surprise as he laughed.
I frowned and took another step backward until I hit the wall of the elevator.
“What?” I cleared my throat.
“You smell like a summer’s day…”
Elation spread through my veins like wildfire, my cheeks flushing with heat. “How funny because my name is…”
“I wasn’t done speaking,” he interrupted coolly, and a little niggle of uncertainty pierced my happiness bubble.
I held my tongue and waited.
“You smell like a summer’s day…” He dipped forward again and inhaled boldly. “If you were sitting on the beach smoking a joint.” He grinned and stood straight again.
Technically, I had partaken in my hotel bathroom while I was getting ready. My anxiety had been off the charts as I prepped for the last meeting to determine if I’d be chosen as a candidate in the auction happening tomorrow night. And I really wanted to be added to the lineup.
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. “And that’s a problem because…” I was so tired of the stigma around cannabis use recreationally and, more importantly, medically. The medicinal properties being my primary reason for regular use. I took advantage of my rights as a Californian to use as I desired. And it was also legal in Nevada, where we were now. Not to mention my opinions on the matter were intense due to what I did for a living, and the entire reason I wanted to be a part of the auction.
“Did I say it was a problem?” he challenged.
I glared. “Your tone insinuated there was something wrong with me smelling of weed. And frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass what a highfalutin, dressed-to-the nines, on a weekday ,” I added as a burn that probably wouldn’t hit the target, “feels about my scent. As a matter of fact, I take back what I said. You smell like shit.” I took a couple steps closer, inhaling his magical scent once more in order to make a statement. “Horse shit, specifically.” I pointed at his chest, my finger dangerously close to making contact.
The man’s eyebrows rose toward his hairline. “Is that right? I believe you said I smelled fantastic. You can’t take that back…”
Before I could respond with a pissy retort, the world around us shook.
Not the world, the elevator.
I screamed and grabbed for the man. His arms wrapped around my body, flattening me to his broad chest. I clung to the lapels of his pristine suit, digging my fingernails in as the elevator swayed and rocked, dropping down several feet at a shocking speed, before it rumbled, then came to a screeching halt, jolting us both.
He kept me pressed to him, one arm tightly wrapped around my back, the other in a vise-like grip around the bar attached to the walls.
“ Jesus Kristus !” he swore in that sultry accent.
My knees shook as I stared up into his gorgeous face. Fear clogged my throat and my eyes started to tear.
He lifted his hand and cupped my cheek. “Don’t cry. I’ll keep you safe.”
My nose tingled and the tip likely turned a bright pink as I opened and closed my mouth, wanting to speak, but nothing came out.
“You’re white as a ghost.” He rubbed his thumb along my cheek tenderly.
My bottom lip trembled as a couple of pesky tears fell.
“It’s going to be okay, solskinn ,” he whispered the last part in a language I didn’t understand.
I nodded, keeping hold of him as though my very life depended on it. Maybe because it did.
“I’m going to press the emergency button,” he said calmly.
I nodded, but didn’t let him go.
He smiled sweetly and wrapped his hands around mine, lightly tugging them free of his clothing. “It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured and interlaced the fingers of one hand, while he reached out and pressed a big red button.
Alarms trilled around us, and I jumped closer to him, pressing my body to his side as I wrapped my arms around him completely and put my face exactly where I’d wanted to from the second he entered. His chest.
I sighed against the warm, safe space.
He didn’t move, allowing me to soak in the comfort of his presence and body. Even after I’d been bitchy toward him.
“I’m sorry about before,” I whispered against his skin.
He rubbed a hand up and down my spine. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
I gripped his waist and held on. The alarm quieted as a staticky voice split through the tension and fear building in the small space.
“This is the hotel maintenance. We have received your request for help. The power shorted and the elevator mechanics glitched. I assure you we are doing everything we can to free you as soon as possible. The elevator is locked in place as we assess the damage and determine the best way to extricate you from the car. It may take a little time, but help is on the way. We can see you in the cameras.”
I untucked my face and glanced up to the corner where a red light was blinking next to a small globe. Stupidly, I waved at the item, and the voice chuckled.
“This is no laughing matter,” my stranger announced gruffly, still holding me tightly, for which I was grateful.
“We understand, sir. The fire department is a few minutes out. Please relax and stay calm. We’ll free you shortly.”
“Um…thank you!” I called out, my voice sounding shaky in the confined area.
I began to slowly extract myself from the comfort of the stranger’s hold. I stepped back until I reached the rail. When I did, my nerves took over and my knees became jelly. I crouched until I was closer to the floor where I planted my ass rather ungraciously. My long, wavy blonde hair fell over my cheeks, shrouding me from the world. Still, I kept a hold on the rail above my head and closed my eyes.
Then I breathed.
In and out.
Slow and steady.
I felt a weight shift at my side, and a long, pair of midnight-covered legs stretched out across the floor.
Unexpectedly, a warm sensation covered my nape. “Hey there, are you going to pass out?” His voice carried nothing but concern as his hand rubbed at the tension in my neck.
I swallowed against the panic threading through every single one of my pores and nodded.
“My name is Jack Larsen. What’s yours?”
After he’d made such a big deal about me smelling like summer and weed, I opened my mouth and lied. I wasn’t about to give him any more verbal ammunition to wound me with. “Rebecca,” I stated flatly.
His brows pinched together. “Are you okay, Rebecca?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m going to be fine. As soon as we get the hell out of this elevator.” I reached across the floor, noting that my purse must have fallen off my shoulder as it was lying on the ground, most of its contents having spilled out.
Horror hit when I noticed my birth control pills, a couple of tampons, a tube of lip gloss, a wad of used tissues, a compact, a one-hitter, and my backup pair of lace undies spread out like confetti across the floor.
I scrambled toward my things. Just as I was about to reach a loose tampon that had rolled farther away, next to my backup undies, a large masculine hand wrapped around both. I looked up in horror as Jack dangled the lacy white thong from a single finger.
His eyes turned a fiery sienna, dazzling me stupid as he crouched before me. He spun the lace around in a circle. “You know, people say the contents of a woman’s purse are fascinating, and I’d have to agree with them, solskinn .” He chuckled and that warm rumble tore through my chest, spreading like a soothing balm over my shattered nerves.
“Give me those.” I went to grab them, but he pulled his arm back, evading my reach.
“I’m curious. Why would you have a saucy pair of panties in your bag?” He tapped his lips with his free hand. “Were you coming from a tawdry evening out? You know, I’ve heard what happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas. Is this proof of such a thing?” He grinned wickedly.
I stood and snatched the undies from his hold lightning fast. “How rude! You don’t touch a woman’s panties.”
He scoffed and crossed his arms, his lips twitching with mirth. “I beg to differ. I very much love touching a woman’s underthings.” He leaned closer, his face now a few inches from mine. “I think I’d rather enjoy touching your panties, while you were still wearing them…or perhaps, I’d prefer taking them off.”
“You’re delusional,” I snapped, shocked at the surprising curl of heat coiling low in my pelvis as the image he presented filtered through my mind.
The elevator shook and once more I found myself pressed up against Jack’s solid frame.
“The feel of you in my arms is astonishingly welcome, and since you keep ending up there, I believe it must be fate.”
“Fate?” I growled, my hands curling around his shoulders as I narrowed my gaze.
“What else could it be?” he asked.
“Coincidence?” I gasped as one of his arms slung low around my waist, pressing our bodies even closer. I could feel his breath against my cheek, sending goosebumps along my skin.
“You don’t believe in fate?”
I shook my head noncommittally. I actually did believe in fate, but I did not, however, believe in coincidence. What was it about this man that had me lying through my teeth?
“Divine intervention then?” He continued smiling.
“They are far too busy dealing with all the shitty world leaders and making deals with karma to be involved in a little elevator malfunction.”
“They?”
I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess… You believe God is male?”
He shrugged. “Most likely.”
“Ugh. God is technically not female nor male. God is an entity. All powerful. All knowing. They ,” I enunciated, “are nonbinary if you must assign a gender specification.”
Jack laughed so hard and for so long, I found myself wanting to hit someone.
Not someone.
Sexy, accented, beautifully dressed, annoyingly gorgeous, magnificent-smelling Jack Larsen. And I never wanted anything to result in violence.
Why did all the yummy ones have to be so irritating?
I moved away from him and picked up the remaining items that had fallen out of my bag.
“Hello in there. We’re about to force open the doors. Stand back,” came a scratchy feminine voice through the speaker.
Jack and I plastered ourselves to the back wall and watched as a slice of metal appeared near the top of the split in the doors. Then a loud noise boomed, and the door ripped open a few inches.
Idiotically, I reached for Jack’s hand. He held mine firmly, giving me the support I needed. Unexpectedly, my vision became blurry and little stars appeared at the edges. My heart pounded a million miles an hour in my chest, and I felt as though I couldn’t catch my breath.
Several pairs of yellow-gloved hands yanked the doors open. But what we saw when they opened was a female fire fighter crouching and several pairs of legs with no upper halves.
No, that couldn’t be right.
I blinked several times as my vision wavered in and out, my breath coming in gasps.
“Rebecca, Rebecca,” someone called my cat’s name. Was my cat here? All I could see were hazy forms.
My body was lifted and a bright light pierced my eyes.
People were talking around me but it sounded like garbled nonsense. All but one voice cut through the sludge coating my ears.
“Open your eyes, solskinn . Let me see those pretty blues.” Jack’s face was all I could see. His spicy, earthy scent invading my nose and calming me down.
“Jack…” I croaked.
“There you go.” He helped me up to a seated position and rubbed a hand up and down my back in long strokes as my vision came back. “Just breathe, Rebecca.” He called me by my cat’s name again.
Oh, that’s right, because he was an ass who’d made fun of my smell and the backup panties I always kept on hand. A woman never knew when she would need a clean pair. My mother had forced that life hack down my throat since I was a teenager, and more times than not, it had been a great help. Especially when having a tawdry night out, as Jack put it.
Though I didn’t think of hookups that way. If a person wanted to be intimate with someone, so be it. I despised how some of the population demonized women for having sexual freedom. Men could go screw ten girls a month and that was often considered a slow month for the single guy. A girl had so much as one partner every few weeks and she was seen as a ho. Not cool. Double standards sucked.
Why am I thinking of this now?
Jack helped me to my feet. “Give me your phone number,” he demanded as he pulled out his cell phone.
“Why?” I pressed my fingers to my forehead as a paramedic led me to a comfy chair.
“I want to check on you later. Make sure you’re okay.”
“Why?” I asked again.
“Humor me,” he deadpanned.
I rattled off a phone number I’d had memorized my entire life. Though it wasn’t my own. It was the same I gave sketchy dudes while being hit on in a bar or club.
“I’ll be calling,” he said as the paramedic flashed a pen light into my eyes.
“I’ll be holding my breath,” I snorted, and he blessedly took his leave, disappearing into another elevator.
Jack Larsen was weird.
Usually, weird was my jam. But after the harrowing experience we’d just gone through together, where I was all kinds of awkward and fumbled around like a dumbass, and he was rude, I was glad to be rid of his presence.
Besides, I was here to marry a rich businessman, and Jack Larsen was not him.