Chapter Four
1160 Words
Aria.
“Girl, what? You’re getting all the hotties!” Chloe twirls dramatically, nearly spilling her coffee.
I groan and drop my head into my hands. “It’s a workplace, Chloe. Not a dating show. I’ve barely survived my first week, and you’re already pairing me off.”
She perches on the edge of my desk, grinning . “Please. You’d survive. That man is too fine to be ignored. I’d risk HR just to hear him say my name.”
I shoot her a glare, but my cheeks warm anyway. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Admit it,” she sing-songs. “You think about him too.”
I open my mouth to deny it— but stop. Silence stretches between us, and Chloe gasps.
“Oh my God. You do! Girl, you’re doomed.”
I sigh and start stacking papers just to look busy. “He’s my boss. He barely looks at me unless it’s about work.”
“Right, because every man who barely looks at a woman is secretly fighting for his life not to,” she teases, tapping my shoulder. “Good luck, Sinclair. You’re one elevator ride away from temptation.”
I shake my head, laughing. “You’re impossible.”
***
By the time I’m done for the day, the office is nearly empty. The soft hum of air conditioning fills the silence, and the city’s golden dusk bleeds through the glass walls. I gather my things and head for the elevator.
The doors are almost closed when a hand slips between them. They slide back open, and in steps Xander Vale.
My stomach tightens. He looks effortless, tie loosened, dark hair slightly mussed. He smells faintly of cologne and something warmer, like rain on cedar.
“Miss Sinclair.”
“Mr. Vale,” I say, trying not to sound breathless.
He presses the button for the ground floor. The doors close, sealing us in. The hum of descent begins , twenty-one, twenty, nineteen—
Then everything stops.
The lights flicker twice and die. The elevator jolts violently, sending my pulse racing. Papers spill from my hand.
“What—” I start, but my voice breaks.
The emergency light flicks on, dim, red, and suffocating.
“We’ve stopped,” he says evenly, phone already out. “Power surge. It’ll resume in a minute.”
But I can’t breathe. The air feels wrong, too tight, too close. My chest seizes. I grip the metal wall, trembling.
“Hey,” he says sharply. “Aria?”
I shake my head. “I— can’t—”
He moves fast, crouching beside me. “You’re having a panic attack.” His tone softens. “Look at me.”
I try. His voice cuts through the fog, low and steady.
“In through your nose,” he says, his hand hovering near mine, not touching but close enough that I feel his warmth. “Out through your mouth. Slowly. Follow me.”
I match his breathing, shaky and uneven at first. His calm seeps into the chaos.
“There you go,” he murmurs. “You’re doing fine.”
The red light paints him in shadows, turning his sharp features softer. His eyes, that impossible shade of green… stay on me like a leash.
My heart slows. My breaths come steadier.
“Sorry,” I whisper hoarsely. “I just… I hate small spaces.”
“Don’t apologize.” His voice is gentler now. “You’re human.”
He slips off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders before I can protest. The warmth swallows me whole, carrying his scent, clean, dark, grounding.
We sit there for a long minute, the only sound is our breathing. The silence between us isn’t awkward anymore— it’s charged, Static.
“You shouldn’t have to deal with that alone,” he says quietly.
I glance up. “You make it sound like you’d volunteer to get stuck again.”
His mouth tilts, not quite a smile. “If it means making sure you’re all right, yes.”
I blink, thrown by the softness beneath his calm. “You don’t seem like the volunteering type.”
“I’m not,” he admits. “But you could be an exception.”
The words hang in the air. My pulse jumps.
I look down, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of his jacket. “I’m fine now. You can move back if you want.”
“I don’t want to.”
My head lifts— his gaze catches mine, steady, unreadable. There’s no smirk, no tease. Just truth.
The elevator feels smaller now, not suffocating, but… alive. His knee almost touches mine, his hand still braced on the floor beside me. The space between us is a breath away from something dangerous.
The emergency light flickers, brushing his jawline with red glow.
“You’re trembling,” he says softly.
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not,” he counters. His tone isn’t commanding, it’s careful, like he’s afraid to push too far. “But you will be.”
I swallow hard, forcing a shaky laugh. “You talk like you’ve done this before.”
“Calmed someone down?”
“Broken elevators,” I say, meeting his eyes.
That earns a faint smile, almost reluctant. “No. But I’m good in crises.”
“Seems you’re good at everything,” I murmur before I can stop myself.
He stills. His gaze sharpens, not arrogant, but curious. “Is that a compliment, Miss Sinclair?”
Heat rushes up my neck. “It’s… an observation.”
“Then I’ll take it.” His voice dips low, sending warmth all through my body.
The hum beneath us stirs again— faint vibration returning. The lights flicker back to life, white, snapping the spell.
We both exhale. He stands first, offering his hand.
I hesitate for a heartbeat before taking it. His grip is warm, steady, grounding me completely.
When the doors slide open, I step out quickly, desperate for air— and distance.
“Thank you,” I say, turning to him. “For… everything.”
His gaze lingers on me a moment longer than it should. “You handled it well.”
“I had help,” I admit quietly.
He gives a small nod— controlled, unreadable again, though something flickers in his eyes. Something I can’t quite name.
As I walk toward the exit, I feel his gaze follow me— not intrusive, but heavy enough to burn.
Outside, the night air wraps around me like a promise. I pull his jacket tighter, inhaling the faint trace of him that still clings to it.
Maybe Chloe was right. Maybe I am doomed.
Because somewhere between fear and relief, my heart decided it likes the sound of his voice far too much.
And I know— deep down, dangerously— that this won’t be the last time he steadies me when the world tilts.
- Writer
