He huffed, half laugh, half disbelief. “I’m not the head.”
“Well, you definitely outrank me. So there should be urgency.”
He smirked. “You think they’re scrambling because of me?”
“Aren’t they?”
He leaned his head back against the wall. “They’re scrambling because the sensors registered two people in a stalled elevator. Not because I’m one of them.”
“But you own the building.”
He didn’t deny it.
I crossed my arms, lifting my chin. “I’m just saying, if I owned a building and got stuck in one of my elevators, I’d expect immediate removal.”
“Immediate removal?”
“Yes.”
“With what? A crowbar?”
“A team—” I flicked my hand—“of engineers. Firefighters. Very determined men with ropes.”
One side of his mouth pulled up. “You want men with ropes breaking in here?”
“Oh my God, that’s not—” I groaned, covering my face. “That’s not what I meant.”
He laughed quietly, his head turning to the side to look at me fully. “You’re something else, Madeline.”
“Is that good?” I asked cautiously.
His eyes dragged over me.
“Yeah,” he said. Quiet. Rougher than before. “It’s good.”
And for a moment, neither of us spoke. I cleared my throat, trying to force the air back into my lungs. “So—time estimate?”
He took his time answering. “Ten minutes for the manual reset. Fifteen for the engineers to reach this floor. Power outrages across the city. It could be up to an hour.”
“Twenty-five minutes to an hour?” My shoulders dropped.
He watched the way my expression dropped, something like softness flickering across his face.
“Probably less,” he said.
“Because you’re Vincent Crow,” I teased faintly.
“No.” He paused, eyes locked on mine. “Because you pressed the emergency button three times and then asked if we should conserve air.”
Heat flooded my face. “That was?—”
“Adorable,” he cut me off.
My heart stopped.
His expression shifted—regret? surprise?—like he’d said that without meaning to. So I saved him again.
“Well,” I said, “if they’re coming quicker because ofme, then, I accept full credit.”
