Samantha
The storm rattled the windows of the high-rise, the deep growl of thunder vibrating through the marble lobby. My shift was ending, the last few stragglers hurrying to the exits. I adjusted the cuffs of my uniform blazer, the air already thick and heavy with the promise of rain.
And then he walked in.
Mr. Kevin Lewis. The owner. His suit was dark, impeccably tailored, his stride purposeful even at this late hour. My breath hitched. I’d had a crush on him since my first day, a silent, aching thing I nurtured every time he stepped into my elevator. I’d catch his gaze in the polished brass doors, a lingering look that held a heat I was sure I imagined. He never spoke beyond a polite nod.
Tonight was no different. He gave me that nod as he stepped into car number four. I followed,
