by K. A. Tucker
————
“Would you like to come in for some tea? I just made a pot,” Ruby says, her glasses magnifying her eyes to cartoonish proportion as she stands in her doorway. “And I baked a fresh batch of shortbread, too. You liked those, right?”
My gaze wanders over her head and into her open apartment. It’s a tomb of books. The afternoon sun highlights the dust particles floating through the air in there. My lungs are clogging just at the sight. “I’d love to, but . . . I’m behind on packing up Celine’s things. I really need to get started on that.”
“Of course, dear. I understand. Well, I’m here, any time you’d like to come by.”
Shame overtakes me. The old lady is obviously lonely and I can’t make even an hour for her. I open my mouth, about to tell her that I’ve changed my mind—even though an hour in there may put me in a mental ward—when the clang of metal and an Englishman’s voice stalls me. “All set, Ruby.”
I feel an unexpected spike of excitement, knowing that Grady’s in there. Even with my focus on Celine, he’s crossed my mind more than a few times today. I can’t help but think I let things go too far with him. I’m so upside down over Celine right now, I can’t see straight. I hope he realizes that.
Ruby peers over her shoulder with a big smile. To me, she shakes her head. “I’m always jamming that darned sink. Thank goodness for this wonderful young man.”
I press my lips together to keep from laughing. Grady suddenly appears at the door in a pair of jeans and a worn T-shirt. “Hey, Maggie.” He has an impish grin on his face as he runs a hand through his dark hair, sending it into sexy disarray. He still hasn’t shaved that scruff either.
Memories of last night hit me and I feel my cheeks flush. “Hey, Grady.”
“You coming in for tea?”
“I wish I could, but I have a bunch of work to do around here and then I’m heading down to Celine’s office for something.”
“Really?” He checks his watch and I can almost read his mind. It’s already three o’clock on a Friday. He probably thinks I’m avoiding him. “Okay, well I’ll try to save you some shortbread. Can’t promise anything, though.” He grins wide again, so relaxed. Maybe what happened last night didn’t faze him. Maybe he lied and he has sex with women up there all the time.
I squash the spike of jealousy that erupts in me with that thought, because I have a missing diary and an investigation into Celine’s death to focus on.
CHAPTER 14
Maggie
It’s a quarter to six by the time I push through the heavy glass doors of Celine’s building.
Jace’s building.
The lobby is filled with people heading home for the day. Far too crowded for my liking, but I didn’t think about that when I agreed to this meeting. I’m forced to press my back against a wall and wait for the rush pouring out of the last elevator before stepping in, hoping that the time of day will make the ascent up sixty-five floors extra quick.
The doors have begun to close when an arm shoots in to stop them.
“I thought that was you.” Jace steps in, out of breath as if he was running.
I check my watch. Still fifteen minutes to go before our meeting, which means he didn’t need to run. Unless he was intentionally running to catch me.
“Natasha said you had some personal issues come up?”
I nod, my eyes focused on the reflection of Jace in the shiny metal doors ahead.
Jay?
“Well, I’m glad we were able to get you in today.”
“Yes, that worked out.” I need to act normal. I don’t know if I can pull this off.
He checks his hair in the reflection as the elevator begins to move. We’re the only two in here. Just me and my new investment manager—the guy who likely paid Celine to have sex with him.
“You okay? You seem . . . worried.” I look up into curious blue eyes, his gaze dipping down to catch the top of my red-and-white polka-dot dress for a fleeting second. Another flirty dress of Celine’s that I intentionally wore because polka dots are always memorable and I’m still fishing for obvious signs of recognition.
Just not right now, because all I can think about is getting out of this metal death trap.
“I’m not a fan of elevators. I usually take the stairs,” I answer truthfully, stepping back to lean against the wall and wrap my hands around the brass rail at hip level.
“I guess me being on the sixty-fifth floor throws a wrench into that.” He smiles easily. “It moves quickly, at least. Don’t worry. We’ll be up in no time.”
The second the words are out of his mouth, the elevator comes to a jarring halt, the red digital number flashing “49.”
We’re suspended forty-nine floors up and not moving.
Jace stands taller, his eyes surveying the ceiling, where the lights blink on and off.
My heart rate climbs with each flicker.
“That’s weird,” he murmurs, pressing the button to his floor several times with his thumb.
We wait . . . and wait . . . and wait . . .
An automated male voice sounds over the speaker, telling us that the elevator will be returning to the lobby shortly and to please remain calm.
“Probably just a power outage. Don’t worry, these elevators are programmed to move down to the lobby in these cases. We’ll be out of here soon.”
“Yeah.” It comes out in a pant, as I feel my lungs closing up. I hold my breath and we listen in silence. I’m expecting to hear the mechanics kick in, to feel us start to move.
And then the lights cut out, throwing us into complete darkness.
“Oh my God . . .” The narrow walls that I can’t even see begin to close in, sucking the air out of the space.
A harsh light floods the cramped space as Jace shines his phone on the control panel, jabbing the emergency call button. He waits five seconds before pressing it again several times. “Shit. I think the backup power is gone.” He pauses, looks back at me, his face just visible within the glow. “Can that even happen?”
I close my eyes as dizziness sets in and my body breaks into a sweat.
“Hey, are you going to be okay?”
“Claustrophobia,” I manage to force out. I rarely ever admit that to anyone. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable, two things I hate. Plus, most people think it’s some benign condition, that it’s “all in your head.” It is, technically. It just has overwhelming physical side effects to go along with it.
“Well, don’t worry, it’ll get fixed soon. We’ll just have to hang out here until it does.”
Hang. Visions of the suspension and brake system failing next and us plummeting to the ground take over all my rational thoughts. I shrug off my winter coat and unwrap the scarf that threatens to strangle me, then drop to the floor before I pass out.
“Good idea.” Jace takes his time, easing his coat off and folding it neatly before laying it down. He sits, so close that his shoulder rubs against mine. I don’t pull away because right now he isn’t all of those other things I suspect him of being. He’s just a living, breathing human who’s trapped in here with me. My senses—already operating on overload—absorb the smell of his spicy cologne and his minty breath, the sound of his sigh, the warmth of his body heat. It helps ease the rising panic, but only a touch.
Jace shuts his phone’s flashlight off and, after punching a few numbers, holds his cell to his ear. I curl my arms around my chest and listen to him give the 9-1-1 dispatcher our details in a very calm and businesslike manner—the building’s address, number of occupants. State of health.
It’s pitch-black and I still somehow feel his eyes on me. “My fellow rider is claustrophobic so this isn’t the best situation for her.” He listens quietly and answers questions sporadically. I can imagine what he’s being asked. “Yes . . . she sounds like she’s short of breath. Yes . . . she’s trembling. Yes . . . I’m pretty sure she’s having a panic attack.”
I close my eyes and begin counting to twenty insi
de my head. That sometimes helps.
“Listen, my phone is going to die any second,” I hear Jace tell the operator. “Okay . . . Yup. I can do— Hello? . . . Hello? . . . Shit.” I hear rather than see his hand drop to his lap. “End of the day. Of course my phone needs a charge. Do you have yours?”
“No.” I do, but I don’t get reception in elevators, and explaining that to him will take too much effort. I startle as fingers graze my elbow, my forearm, until they find my shaking hand and coil around it, squeezing lightly.
“You don’t need to panic. We’re going to be just fine.”
“That’s not . . .” People just don’t get it.
“Just take deep breaths, calm down . . . you’re overreacting.”
I grit my teeth against my rising annoyance. “Did the dispatcher tell you to say these things?”
There’s a moment’s pause, like he’s deciding what he should admit to. “Yeah. Why?”
“Do me a favor? If you talk to her again, tell her she’s an idiot. You don’t tell someone who’s having a panic attack to calm down. It only makes them feel crazy, which makes everything worse.” My words shoot out of my mouth in rapid fire, soaked in bitterness.
A finger grazes over the fleshy part of my thumb. “Okay, what should I do?”
“Just talk.”
“About?”
“I don’t care! Anything. Your job . . . college . . . your dog . . .” I’m scrambling, my words choppy, my breaths ragged. “Just talk about yourself.” I mutter under my breath, “You shouldn’t have a problem doing that.”
He exhales and I think he’s getting ready to tell me to fuck off after that jab. I’d deserve it. Before he has a chance, I throw out, “So, your father’s a governor?”
“Yup.”
“What’s that like?”
“Fine, I guess.”
The seconds tick by, every single one taking far too long because I’m stuck inside this elevator and apparently my companion doesn’t know how to carry on a conversation unless he’s earning money from it.
“Does the media ever hound you?”
“They’ve had their moments, but I think I lucked out in that regard.”
“How so?”
He sighs. Uninterested in the topic. “Well . . . campaigns can be tough on kids. When your parents are in politics, stupid moves will always come back to bite you in the ass somewhere down the line. Luckily, I was smart enough to keep my nose clean over the years.”
Except for those escorts you pay to have sex, right? Having that conversation would definitely distract me from this hanging coffin we’re trapped in.
“He’s already talking about running again, isn’t he?”
“You’ve been doing your research.”
“Of course I have. I’m no idiot.”
“No, I definitely don’t take you for one.” A light chuckle and then a pause. “So, what’s it like to be an energy empire heiress?”
“It’s a dream come true.”
“Right. That’s why you were arrested for protesting one of your family’s plants?”
“You’ve been doing your research.”
“Of course I have.” I hear the smile in his voice. “I’m no idiot.”
Touché. “I was eighteen . . . I was an idiot back then.” I figured that in a crowd of two thousand people, I would be invisible. I wasn’t. I made the headlines that week, feeding the critics more ammunition against Sparkes Energy.
“And now you spend your time playing Mother Teresa.”
“You should try it sometime, if you can stop counting your money for more than a second, Scrooge.”
“At least I’ve earned my money,” he throws back without missing a beat.
“My, has Jace Everett lost his charm so quickly?”
His body tenses next to me. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”
“What’s wrong, afraid I’ll take my funds away before you get to play?”
He clears his throat. “Clearly this situation is stressful for you. I doubt you’re normally such a—”
A fire alarm sounds somewhere in the building.
And suddenly I don’t even hear what Jace is saying because all I can think about is flames tearing through this skyscraper and cooking us alive. I’m going to die in this little box before they find us, which could be in forty hours, like that recent story on the news about that woman who was stuck in an elevator all weekend, but no we won’t be because Jace called 9-1-1 so they know we’re in here, but if the building is burning down, they won’t be able to get to us and—
“Maggie!” I’m only faintly aware of two strong hands gripping my shoulders. “You’re hyperventilating. You need to slow your breathing down.”
“Like it’s that easy!” I hiss, my chest ready to cave in from the pressure. I’ve never had an attack like this before.
“Tell me what to do.”
I’m shaking my head, the fire alarm a torturous repetitive echo pounding inside my head. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. I can’t . . .” There are techniques—all kinds of techniques—but I’m too panicked to remember any of them right now. “We’re going to die in—”
Grabbing either side of my head, he yanks my face into his, covering my mouth with his until I’m punching his chest repeatedly to break free.
“What the hell are you doing?” I scream.
“Limiting your air intake. And shutting you up.” Hot puffs of his breath skate over my face a moment before he seals my lips against his once again, forcing me to breathe in through my nose to get air, and curbing the amount that I can exhale. He’s right, I realize, as the pressure in my lungs eases and my heart rate slows and I’m calm enough to become conscious of the fact that I’m basically kissing Jace Everett.
At that precise moment, when the air around us hangs hot and wet and tension streams through my body like a live electric current, his tongue slides against mine.
And then whatever good Samaritan act on Jace’s part this was quickly morphs into lips smashing and tongues tangling and teeth nipping and aggressive hands yanking at hair. I’m hungrily stealing Jace’s air now, tasting the residual spearmint gum flavor, absorbing his body heat and his confidence. Strong hands move feverishly over my legs, under my dress, until he has a good grip around the backs of my thighs. He pulls me onto his lap to straddle him, crushing our chests against each other until my knees are jammed against the cold metal wall, hard enough to bruise, and I can feel his speeding heart beat against mine and his erection digging into me.
And I find myself wanting it.
He’s arrogant and condescending, his morals likely reprehensible, and yet I press myself further against him. He groans as my fist curls around his tie, roping it tight until I can’t be sure that I’m not choking him. And I don’t care, because there’s something about Jace that makes me forget all manners and consideration. There’s something that makes me want to take control.
He doesn’t seem willing to relinquish it, though, his hands fumbling in the dark to find my plunging neckline and the loosely draped material of this wrap-style dress. With a quick tug against it and my lace bra, cold air hits my bare chest a second before his tongue finds a nipple.
I can hear him working his belt buckle and zipper in haste, as if he’s afraid to run out of time. Warm hands find my inner thighs and I hiss in pain as he pinches my skin in his attempt to grab hold of my pantyhose. Before the sting has faded, I feel the pull, hear the tear, sense his fingers pushing past my panties and sliding into me without shame.
“I knew it,” his whispers against my neck, his hand pushing my hips from behind and into him, until the end of his cock is sliding against me.
Lights flicker and then flood into the elevator like a cold bath to whatever insanity just took over my senses, illuminating this mess I’ve gotten myself into. Eyes the color of cool water stare back at me, a question in them. Forceful hands pulling my body closer, slowly inching him into me, tell me that Jace is too far gone to st
op now.
And then the elevator jolts, beginning its rapid descent.
Snapping me out of his spell.
I scramble off Jace’s lap, and rush to fix my bra and smooth my dress as best I can. I have my coat on and pulled tight just as the doors open on the lobby level, a wall of firefighters in full gear standing at the lobby entrance. I push through them, my face burning.
Plenty of other bewildered and relieved people wander around. People trickle out of the stairwell, red-faced and rubbing their thighs from the long descent.
“Ma’am! Are you the one suffering from claustrophobia?” a heavyset paramedic calls out. After lying to her—thankfully there’s too much chaos in the lobby to take up more than a few seconds of anyone’s attention—I edge my way out of the circus.
From the snippets of conversation that I hear, apparently there was a serious malfunction with the elevator system, leaving all six elevators and their passengers stranded at various spots in the building. When the backup system didn’t kick in, a security guard triggered the fire alarm to get emergency response here, fearing the worst.
I’m sure the news crews are on their way. I don’t want to be anywhere near them.
I’m twenty feet from the doors when a firm hand grabs my arm. I shake it off, turning to glare at Jace.
There isn’t even an ounce of apology in his eyes. My eyes veer to his mouth without warning. I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe I just let that happen.
He steps in front of me, blocking my path a second before I move to leave. “I still need you to sign the last bit of paperwork.” A bitter laugh escapes me and he grins. “I’m serious. Let’s grab dinner and you can sign everything there. I know a great place nearby. Ground-floor dining. No elevators. I just need to get your paperwork, so let me see how long they think it’s going to be before the elevators are back up and running. We could always just have a few drinks while we wait. Just stay here for a few minutes. Please.”
I watch him head toward the security guys standing near the elevators.
And then I duck out with the crowd, feeling every bit the heathen.
