CHAPTER FOUR – THE ELEVATOR CONFRONTATION
528 Words
It was Wednesday evening. After a long day at work, all Chloe wanted was a hot bath, a glass of wine, and her bed.
Her heels clicked softly against the polished marble as she stepped into the hotel elevator, dressed in a crisp white blouse tucked into beige high-waist trousers. Exhausted but composed, she leaned against the corner, scrolling through her meeting notes on her tablet, forcing her mind to shift from strategy and boardrooms to rest.
The doors slid shut with a soft chime. Just a few floors to go.
Then they opened again.
And in he stepped.
She knew before even looking. Him.
Damien Sterling.
He looked impossibly sharp in a fitted black suit, tie loosened just enough to appear effortless, hair slightly tousled as though he’d run his hands through it half a dozen times. His phone was already in hand, his posture casually commanding. Nathan, ever his shadow, trailed behind.
Chloe smirked, recalling his earlier phone conversation with his grandmother. She said nothing—yet. She focused on her notes, but the elevator seemed to shrink, the air thickening with tension the moment his phone buzzed.
She stole a quick glance at the screen.
Mum.
She looked away quickly, pretending not to notice—but her ears had tuned in automatically.
“Damien,” his mother’s voice crackled from the speaker, sharp and insistent. “Dinner tomorrow. No excuses.”
He exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Mother, I’m busy—”
“No excuses. Your grandparents are coming too.”
Chloe, pretending to be disinterested, couldn’t help but listen.
“And Damien,” his mother continued, voice firm, “then bring a girlfriend.”
A girlfriend?
Chloe bit her lip to suppress a grin.
“I don’t have one,” Damien muttered, exasperated.
“Then find one,” his mother snapped. “I’m tired of your excuses.”
The call ended abruptly. Silence stretched across the elevator like a taut wire.
Finally, Chloe spoke. Her voice slow, teasing, cutting through the quiet. “So… having trouble finding a date, Mr. Grumpy?”
His head snapped toward her, piercing gaze locking onto hers like a hawk. “Do you make a habit of eavesdropping?”
She lifted a shoulder, expression playful, almost mocking. “Not my fault you have very interesting conversations in public places.”
His jaw tightened.
“You know,” she continued, tapping a manicured finger against her chin, “if you’re that desperate, you could always hire a pretend girlfriend.”
He scoffed, dark and low. “I don’t need advice from a stranger.”
“Suit yourself,” she replied with a shrug, as if the conversation were done.
The elevator chimed again—her floor.
Chloe stepped out but paused, glancing back just enough to meet his gaze. Her lips curled in mischief.
“Good luck, Mr. Grumpy,” she said softly, voice almost teasingly sweet. “You’re going to need it.”
And with that, she walked away, leaving Damien staring after her, jaw tight, realizing—with a spark of irritation he refused to admit—that she had already gotten under his skin.
- Writer
