Elevator Scene

Chapter 4: The Elevator Scene

The elevator was full.

Too full.

Eight people stood between me and Dominic, including Camilla from reception, three department heads, and two junior analysts who pretended not to exist when executives were around.

The metal doors slid shut, and I was pressed against the far wall. Dominic stood by the panel, hands in his pockets, face blank. A casual observer would never guess what we’d done barely twenty minutes ago in a soundproof office built for sin.

But I knew.

My body still ached in the best way. My underwear stuck damp against my skin, and every bump of the elevator made it worse.

I tried not to look at him.

Failed.

His eyes flicked to mine once. Just once. And in that half-second, everything ignited.

A muscle flexed in his jaw. That was all.

But it was enough.

Halfway to the ground floor, the elevator jolted. A soft mechanical hum stalled.

The lights flickered.

Everyone shifted awkwardly, nervous laughter bubbling up from the back.

“We’re stopping?” someone asked.

“Must be a glitch. They’ll fix it in a minute.”

Dominic stepped forward and tapped the emergency button. “This is Voss. We’re paused between floors. Get maintenance on it.”

“Right away, sir,” a voice crackled through the speaker.

He turned to face the elevator again—and his eyes locked on mine like a sniper targeting a weakness.

He moved slowly this time.

Deliberately.

Each step he took made my heartbeat spike, especially when the other passengers were too busy refreshing their phones to notice the way his body boxed mine into the corner.

“Dominic,” I warned under my breath.

His lips barely moved. “You’ve been disobedient, Lana.”

My breath caught. “What?”

“You didn’t look at me once when you stepped in here.”

“We’re surrounded—”

“Exactly. You thought I’d forget who you belong to just because we’re in a box with six other people?”

“Belong?” I whispered, but I didn’t push him away.

“I’ve been hard since you walked into the lobby.”

My knees buckled slightly.

He braced a hand on the wall beside my head, the other sliding down my waist as if he had every right. I gasped—not because of what he was doing, but because of where we were.

He leaned in, lips grazing the shell of my ear.

“You don’t make me chase you, Lana. That wasn’t our deal.”

I trembled. “You’re the one who said no feelings.”

“This isn’t a feeling. It’s a need.”

Before I could reply, his hand dipped lower—just enough to graze the lace beneath my skirt.

My eyes snapped wide.

“Don’t,” I whispered, mortified.

“No one’s looking,” he murmured. “They’re too busy pretending I’m not here.”

His fingers teased the edge of my panties, brushing just enough to make my breath catch audibly.

The girl beside me glanced over.

I swallowed and looked away.

He smirked.

“You like this,” he murmured, pressing just a little more. “You like knowing they have no idea how wet you are.”

“Dominic—”

“Shh. I’ll stop the moment you tell me to.”

I didn’t.

Because I couldn’t.

Because he was right—I liked the danger. The power. The fact that under my stiff blouse and professional skirt, I was a complete mess… and only he knew why.

The elevator jolted again. Lights flickered back to full.

“We’re moving,” someone said.

Dominic pulled his hand away like nothing happened. Buttoned his jacket. Straightened his cuffs.

By the time the elevator reached the lobby, he was Mr. Voss again. Cold. Composed. Controlled.

I, on the other hand, was flushed, pulsing, and clinging to the last shred of dignity I had left.

When the doors opened, people filed out. He didn’t wait. He didn’t look back.

But as he passed, he brushed his fingers against mine.

Quick. Hidden.

A message.

To be continued.

---

Back at my desk, I stared at the screen, fingers frozen over the keyboard.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number

1:03 p.m.

> Your desk. Ten minutes. Black lace. No bra.

I nearly dropped the phone.

Then I realized—he had already known what color I was wearing.