Summer’s POV
The elevator moved.
Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
I watched the numbers above the doors change.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then stop.
I stared at the number.
Surely that couldn’t be right.
I glanced at the doors.
Then at the number again.
Nothing.
The elevator had stopped.
I frowned.
Beside me, Andrew remained completely still.
He looked down at his phone.
I tried not to look at him.
I failed.
He was standing with one hand in the pocket of his trousers, the other holding his phone loosely.
Calm.
Unbothered.
Completely comfortable.
Meanwhile, I was suddenly far too aware of the fact that I was standing alone in an elevator with the owner of the company I worked for.
Again.
The silence stretched.
I looked at the number above the door.
Still the same.
How long did
