by L A Pepper
But she was the grimmest, most serious, most sincere, relentlessly prosaic person I’d ever met. Except for her writing. Her writing was pure poetry. Her person? Well, let’s just say I saw her this morning, and she’d been perfectly presentable, but here it was almost five, and her jacket was gone, her hair was tied into a knot at the back of her head but it was starting to fall out. There was a stain on her blouse that looked to be coffee, and her lipstick had worn completely off. Her lips had been bright red this morning, matching her skirt, and now they were a petal pink. Did she just pay no attention to her appearance or did she do something interesting to rub the paint off her lips? The thought sent a jolt through me. I didn’t know if it was pleasant or unwelcome.
“Did you need something, Nick?” She asked. I’d forgotten. She snapped my name in half with her incisors.
I cleared my throat. “Right.” The reason why I’d come over to bug her. I dropped the file on her desk. “I need you to research this resort.”
She heaved a sigh. A lock of her hair blew out of her face and she tucked it behind her ear. It was adorable. “You couldn’t have just emailed it to me?”
It was getting even harder to keep from smiling at her. I shook my head. “Nope. It’s not online. Too exclusive. Secret even.”
She scowled but reached for the file quickly. Was that eagerness? She pushed her hair back again out of her face and began flipping through it. “This isn’t a resort. It’s a retreat. A spiritual retreat.” Her face was full of confusion when she looked up at me. “In the Mojave desert.”
I grunted an assent. I’d never noticed how blue her eyes were. “Exclusive,” I repeated.
“What are you trying to pull, Nick?”
Like Rachel said. She was the real thing: nothing but honest. Nothing but real. She never pulled any punches. Just 100% authentic. It was exhausting. I stood up from the edge of the desk. “Do you want the story or not?”
She narrowed those blue eyes at me. “Of course I want the story,” and then turned to the file as if I was not even there. I’d call it a dismissal except that would be her giving me any sort of notice at all. She was already on the job. And I might as well not even have been standing there.
Chloe pulled the tie out of her hair and ran her fingers through her chocolate tresses. The smell of apple blossoms wafted over to me where I stood frozen, watching her. A feeling of yearning filled me, like when I got that itch to travel. The feeling that my desires were there, just out of reach, and if I could just get there, I could live my dreams.
Then she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and hunched over the folder, engrossed. When I left, she didn’t notice me at all.
Chapter Three: Stuck
After my last minute assignment from Nick — Mr Meryton, dammit, I was not calling him by his first name in my brain, I would not give him that real estate in my thoughts — my head was whirling, I was exhausted. I had stayed far later at the office than I’d intended, and I was the last one here. I’d just gotten wrapped up in his research.
I hated how interesting his stories were. How fascinated I was by the places he’d gone and the things he’d done, the adventure of his life. I’d never gone anywhere or done anything, too focused on my schooling and then my career, and to be honest, never really having the money to go anywhere. Magazine publishing might seem glamorous, but it really didn’t pay much at all, and it wasn’t like I was a jet setting billionaire who could just take off for Kuala Lumpur at a moment’s notice.
Ugh. I closed the file and neatened my blouse and my hair. Forget the lipstick, I just chewed it off when I was thinking anyway, and I had so much on my mind. I wanted to keep working on this story, so I swiped the file and stuck it into my bag, as if someone was watching me and knew that I was having a rivalry with Nick in my brain. Even though no one was there. And no one even seemed to know I was competing with my boss. I hope they didn’t know. Because it was a ridiculous rivalry. I just couldn’t stop thinking about him. About what an entitled ass he was. I snorted. A billionaire playboy.
Maybe Rachel was right, I needed to get out more and live for more than just work. But what was I to do when work was so interesting? Maybe I’d stop by the store on the way home and get a bottle of wine and some flowers and something other than a frozen dinner just so I could say I was doing something other than working at home. That was a life, right?
I turned off my computer and the whole office went dark and silent. My heels clicked against the floor as I walked to the elevator and the ding when I pressed the button seemed loud in the silence.
So was the door opening on the other side of the office. Was that Nick’s office? Was Nick still at work? Oh no. I pressed the elevator call button frantically. Just him and me? The only ones here?
“Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up,” I muttered under my breath, sighing in relief when the elevator door swooshed open in front of me. I slipped in and started pressing the close button. “Come on, come on.”
“Hold the elevator!” Nick called. His voice was getting closer.
“Close, damn you!”
And then the doors were closing, and I thought for a second that I was safe.
A hand reached in, right before the doors shut and they popped back open. Nick Meryton stepped into the elevator. He was offended, I could tell already by his body language, and that was before he saw me, my finger hovering over the close button.
He stared at me a moment.
I refused to be the first to speak.
“Were you really going to close the door on me?”
“I was trying to.” I stared at the floor numbers, willing the door to close and this elevator ride, trapped with my arch enemy and my boss, to be over.
The door did not close.
He stood next to me, about three feet away. Not moving. I didn’t look at him, but I knew he was there. I could feel him, his presence almost a solid thing against my skin. I stole a glance at him. He wasn’t looking at me either.
He turned his head, a half smirk on his face, and caught me looking. “Now would be a good time to hit that door close button.”
I shifted my work bag in my hands and held on. “It’ll close.”
He nodded and turned back to wait. And wait and wait.
“What did you do to the elevator, Chloe?”
“I didn’t do anything to the elevator!” I snapped and turned to him. That lazy grin he always wore made my blood boil. “I pressed the button. You’re supposed to press the button.”
“Not as hard or as often as you did.”
“Shut up, Nick.” I reached out and pressed the door close button. Once. Firmly. The door slid closed easily. “See?” I raised my chin at him. The pompous ass. His smirk slid into a smile, broad and bright and happy and my heart started racing. I swallowed hard trying to get it under control. “Asshole,” I grumbled, and looked away because I couldn’t look at him anymore.
He sighed heavily. I could feel his attention turn to me as the elevator started moving. I could pretend that the swoop in my stomach was from the motion but as a journalist is that I paid attention to the facts, and the facts were that my physical reaction was not to the motion of the elevator, it was because I was alone in a tiny box with a man who was far too attractive for anyone’s good. And I needed to keep my distance.
He took a step towards me.
I took a step back, bumping up against the wall. I looked up into his eyes. Dear God, he was so handsome. It was like staring into the sun.
“What, exactly is your problem with me Chloe?”
“I don’t have a problem with you,” I lied.
He chuckled. “You know, you didn’t have a problem with authority at any of your old jobs, so that leads me to believe that your problem with me is….” he took another step towards me. “personal.”
“Don’t be absurd,” I said and raised my chin up farther; a challenge. He smelled like a cross between a pine forest and something I wanted to lick head to toe. I felt myself lean
ing towards him. This would not do. “I resent your assumption of superiority simply because of your birth.”
He blinked and smiled at me with his white, white teeth. “My birth? You resent my birth?”
“Yes, damn you.” I poked him in the chest, to make him step back. His very hard chest. “All of this? You were born to it. You were given it along with the silver spoon in your mouth and that pretty face.”
“You were given a pretty face, too, Chloe,” he smirked. “Am I supposed to resent you for that?” His eyes flicked to my chest. I looked down. My button had come undone. Dammit. I couldn’t stop now to fix it. I poked him again. Harder.
This time he grabbed my hand and held it, lifting one eyebrow warningly.
“I had to work for everything I’ve gotten. I worked at chores when I was a child. Later, I worked to get the grades for a scholarship. I worked three jobs in college to afford books. And now, I share an apartment with three other girls who I don’t even like just to get this opportunity to make my mark on the world. To prove that I was here. That I mean something.”
“You mean something,” his challenging gaze softened. No. That wouldn’t do.
“And you were just given it all, without an ounce of work.”
His amber eyes fared. “I have worked damn hard, you little—”
The elevator lurched, and I fell against Nick’s hard chest. He kept his feet under him and held me until I caught my balance.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” I said, although my hands were still on his chest and he gripped my arms firmly. “Excuse me,” I said, awkwardly. I had dropped my bag and bent to pick it up, but when I stood back up Nick was looking at the numbers above the door.
“We’ve stopped moving,” he said.
Two floors were lit up, 17 and 18, and no. We were not moving anymore. “It can’t be,” I said and poked at the button for the lobby.
He growled under his breath. “Dammit. The elevator’s stuck.”
A jolt of alarm went through me and rose up my neck. I shook my head. “No. It’s going to start up again.”
He chuckled. “Have you never gotten stuck in an elevator before, Chloe?”
“Of course I haven’t! What sort of moron has their office so high up in the building!”
“I’m sorry, what?” He seemed a little too shocked to even be offended.
“Normal places of business should be close enough to the ground to walk the stairs if you need to leave. What kind of lack of forethought allows people to be locked in an elevator to die of asphyxiation?”
“Asphyxiation? Lack of forethought?” He stared at me like I was a lunatic which to be fair, felt about accurate right about now. My brain whirled, and I was almost certain the walls were closing in. “Are you aware that we are in New York City and half the buildings are taller than this?”
“Of course I’m aware!” I snapped. Deep breathing was not working. “I just made sure to not ever have to spend TIME in one of them before this. And I certainly avoided getting stuck in one.”
“You are certifiable,” he said and then turned his back on me. “I’ll call building management and we’ll get a custodian to bring the elevator down to the lobby. There’s a failsafe.”
“Well the failsafe failed.” Was it getting hot in here? It was hard to breathe.
He ignored me, which I was thankful for, and made the call. I pressed all the buttons one at a time and then went back and pressed them all again. “Breathe in,” I murmured under my breath. “Breathe out.”
“ Dammit!” he yelled. I jumped near out of my skin and my heart beat set to racing faster than before. “They can’t get anyone out here for an hour at least. I hope you don’t have any pressing appointments.”
I looked at him without really seeing him. “An hour?” I squeaked.
“It’s okay,” he said, and I was sure his voice meant to be soothing, but it wasn’t. “Don’t worry it happens all the time. The elevator is perfectly safe. It can’t fall at all. There are emergency cables securing it.”
“The elevator could fall!?” That was not good. Not good. I turned back to the buttons. I knew I was fixating, but it didn’t matter. “Open up. Open the door!” I pressed 17 then 18. Then both. Again and again. I jammed the open button. “Open, please God open.” I pressed all the buttons.
My throat was closing up, and I wasn’t sure I was getting any air.
“Hey,” his voice came to her as if from a distance. “Are you okay?”
“I can’t breathe,” I said. I thought I said. Did words come out of my mouth? I wasn’t sure. My vision started to go dark, the edges of it glittered with flashes of light.
“Chloe?” I heard as if from a long way off, and then nothing.
Chapter Four: Settle Down
Chloe turned white as a sheet, that was my first clue. It should have been the shouting about tall buildings, but no, it was when her face drained of color, when her eyes started to flutter closed, I was actually prepared myself.
She fainted, and I caught her, limp in my arms, and I eased both of us down to the floor of the elevator, leaning up in the corner, with her in my lap. I brushed her hair, falling out of her ponytail again, back from her forehead. It was cold and clammy. “Jeez, Chloe,” I whispered to the unconscious woman, shocked at my instinct to take care of her. She still smelled of apple blossoms. Yearning clenched again low in my gut.
Her eyes fluttered open only a few seconds later, something I was grateful for, because I’d rather think about a woman having a panic attack in my arms than about how I felt about the woman having a panic attack in my arms.
“You okay?”
She tensed in my arms, rigid. Her throat convulsed. “I can’t breathe,” she whispered and her fingers clawed at my shirt. “There’s no air…” Her eyes rolled around as if she were looking at the walls, but I had the feeling that she wasn’t seeing anything.
“Hey, hey,” I said, not really knowing what to do, just wanting to get her attention on me, not the fact that we were stuck in an elevator. “The air is fine, see? I’m breathing too.”
“I know. I know. But I can’t--” I watched her gasping for breath, as if there was no air.
“No, hey, Chloe. I can breathe. Breathe with me.” I covered her hand on my chest, flattening it to press it against me, to feel my heartbeat. “In.” I said and let my lungs fill with air. “Out.” I breathed out.
She wasn’t following me. I put my hand on her chest instead, rubbing in gentle circles. “Breathe with me. In…. out.” Her eyes met mine and locked. At first they were wide and panicked, but I wouldn’t let her go. Her breath started to slow. She nodded. God, her eyes were blue. Blue as the Aegean sea.
She started to come back to herself. I saw her remember who I was. Realize where she was. To be honest, I’d forgotten too. I’d forgotten she was soft and warm in my lap and I was rubbing soothing circles into her chest. Her blouse had popped open three more buttons, and I didn’t remember doing that.
“Oh,” she said, and the word was very small. She lifted her hand from my chest so I removed mine from hers. “Mr Meryton,” she said and my stomach clenched.
“Nick.”
“Nick.” She scrambled out of my lap and I was suddenly cold. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her face that had been bone white before was now flaming red.
“You don’t have to be sorry. I know what a panic attack is. I’m just sorry you got stuck in the elevator.”
“I don’t like small spaces,” she said, still that small voice. She patted her neck with limp fingers. “My throat is so dry. This is horrible. I’m sorry, it hasn’t happened like this for a long time. I didn’t mean for you--”
“I said you shouldn’t apologize.” I reached over to my bag and pulled out the water bottle that I always carried with me. I unsnapped the top and held it out to her. “Here. Drink.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” she muttered, and I smiled. if she was making sarcastic jokes, then she was doing better. I
held it closer to her. She took it. “My hero,” she said, her face still flushed, but meeting my eyes again.
“It’s just a bottle of water, Chloe.”
Silence fell between us. She hadn’t been talking about the water. I wondered if that was the closest to a thank you I’d get from her. Maybe I wouldn’t push it. Not yet. I thought maybe these were the first steps to getting her on my side. I thought maybe I liked her on my side. “We should be out of the elevator in an hour or so. Do you think you can make it?”
She took a deep swallow. “No.”
I sighed. “Well you could pass out from hyperventilating or, I don’t know, we could find another way to keep your mind off things.”
Her eyes shot suspiciously up to mine, like she thought I meant something human resources would not like, not like, at all. I pretended not to know that was what she thought. “Got any work to do in that bag? It might give us something to do.”
“Oh, yeah. I brought the file.” She snapped the water closed, and I dragged her bag over from where it had fallen on the floor. We laid the files out and got to work.
Not even fifteen minutes later I was reading the article she’d already started and it was good, damn good. Rachel had been right. Chloe had what it took.
“Are you sure this elevator is not running out of air?” Chloe asked, the anxiety back in her voice. Had it ever left? She was shuffling papers around, not really doing anything. I’d gotten caught up in her writing but she was barely holding it together.
“Positive.”
“Then why is it so hot?”
“It’s not hot.”
“No. It’s definitely hot.” She started fanning herself with the file. Sweat was collecting at her hair line. “Oh my God I’m going to burn up.”
