4. In The Elevator

Shirley POV

I rushed home, curling my hair into soft waves and slipping into a pale green suit that hugged my curves just right.

After a careful touch of makeup, I took one last look in the mirror.

"You've got this, Shirley. You're going to win that project," I told my reflection, forcing a confident smile.

Then I called a cab and headed straight for Virex Group.

The moment I stepped into the company's gleaming glass building in my six-inch heels, I could feel the stares following me.

Admiration. Curiosity. Envy.

Yes, I was beautiful.

Toned body. Long legs. A face that made people look twice.

Maybe it was this very beauty on the surface that brought me so much misery.

It was my pretty face and the body every man noticed that first drew Connor to me.

But it wasn't enough to make him stay.

If I could turn back time, I'd trade this pretty face for a little peace.

For three years, every interview I went to ended the same way—sabotaged by Connor's fiancée, Vanessa.

No matter how close I got to being hired, the final call was always a rejection.

Then came the accident.

My mom was hit by a car and slipped into a coma.

She spent weeks in the ICU, and when the bills drained everything I had, she still… didn't make it.

Then… the baby I'd been carrying for eight months left me too.

I was utterly destitute, barely scraping together the rent for my tiny, run-down apartment.

That was when I met Josh.

He threw me a lifeline in the open sea, allowing me to struggle back to life from the very brink of despair.

The Virex Group headquarters stood in the city's most expensive, prime real estate.

Every time I stepped inside, the sight of the lavish offices and the swarm of busy employees filled me with a familiar ache of envy.

I'd always imagined what it would feel like to work in a place like this—to belong here.

The pay must be incredible.

Maybe I could finally move out of that moldy apartment…

It felt like an impossible dream.

Before I could pull my thoughts back, the elevator doors ahead began to slide shut.

I hurried forward, calling out, "Hold the door, please—"

I barely squeezed inside at the last second.

"Thank you."

The words were still on my tongue when an inexplicable pressure settled over me.

The air inside the small space was instantly thick and heavy.

A subtle, woody cologne mingled with a familiar scent, and my heart skipped a beat.

A man of imposing stature stood motionless, like a dark sculpture, at the center of the elevator.

His custom-tailored shirt and suit stretched tight across his broad chest, perfectly outlining his powerful physique.

With every breath, the robust muscles beneath the fabric subtly shifted, radiating a sexually charged, almost animalistic intensity.

I slowly raised my gaze, meeting a pair of glacial, gray-blue eyes—cold, detached, giving away nothing.

Connor Rogers!

I whipped around, instinct telling me to flee, but the doors were already sealed.

I retreated, pressing my spine against the cool metal wall.

It was just the two of us. Every second felt like a year.

Then, without warning, he walked toward me, caging me with a single hand braced against the wall.

I was trapped within his shadow.

The familiar scent of raw male hormones flooded my nostrils.

My back was plastered against the cold steel of the elevator, rigid and tense.

"Are your injuries healing?"

His deep, magnetic voice rumbled above me, his solid chest a mere two inches from my nose.

A surge of raw heat ignited deep in my abdomen.

My hand gripped the fabric of my coat, and my voice emerged from my throat, brittle and forced.

"Much better, thank you."

I used to drown in his body, greedy for every muscle and every ounce of his raw power.

Now, all I felt was the desperate urge to run.

His proximity instantly triggered the memory of our wildest nights.

The force he possessed, the way he would fill and drive into me until I screamed his name, was impossible to forget.

How could I despise him, yet my body still betrayed me like this?

My breath hitched, uneven and shallow.

Beneath my bra, my nipples hardened, their friction against the lace only intensifying the sensation.

 I was already damp between my thighs.

God, I had to get out.

Connor's hand lifted, brushing against my forehead.

"Did the fever break?"

I flinched, pulling my head back slightly.

"It broke. I'm fine. " 

I kept my eyes lowered, fixed on the floor tiles.

My pulse hammered so violently I was convinced he could hear it.

 The elevator, still not reaching the 30th floor, stretched into an unbearable eternity.

His hand slid to my chin, gently tilting it up. I had no choice but to meet his gaze.

We locked eyes in silence—his dark, unreadable; mine full of panic—until a soft ding broke the moment.

"Thirtieth floor," the elevator announced.

I exhaled in relief, barely managing to choke out, "I… I'm here."

Connor took a step back, the crushing presence of his chest finally moving away.

I gasped, and the instant the doors opened, I fled.

My heels clattered desperately across the marble floor, a frantic rhythm of escape.

I didn't dare look back until I was far down the corridor; only then did the frantic heaving of my chest begin to slow.

My phone vibrated urgently in my handbag. I snatched it up.

"Shirley, my flight's delayed. I won't make it back for hours. The review meeting is all on you." Josh's voice was strained with anxiety.

"Relax, I've got this," I assured him, forcing a lightness I didn't feel.

Inside, my stomach twisted.

Our studio was small, and the Virex Group proposal review was ruthless.

We were likely to be dismissed in the first round purely on the grounds of our small scale and lack of established corporate backing.

Josh had undeniable talent, and his proposal was genuinely innovative.

I had to seize every possible opportunity to make this work.

Since he couldn't be here, it was up to me to fight for him.

I signed in with the Marketing department and moved to the waiting area.

Representatives from the other companies were already there, chatting quietly amongst themselves.

With Josh gone, my nerves were frayed, so I pulled out my tablet and quickly reviewed the key points of his presentation several times.

After a tense wait, a slight disturbance rippled from the doorway.

Connor slowly strode into the room, and the moment he entered, everyone felt his immense presence.

 The entire room fell silent, and all eyes snapped to him.

Mr. Gish, the Marketing Director, hurried over, his face plastered with obsequious smiles and compliments.

As Connor's gaze swept across the waiting room, I happened to look up, and our eyes locked.

My heart gave a violent lurch.

Was he here for the review meeting, too?

If he was, would he help me?