Then we heard metal groan.
A hard jolt.
The lights flickered again, settling into a weak, uncertain glow.
“Oh no,” Valentina muttered beside me, sounding—for the first time—actually concerned. “Okay, being stuck in an elevator is one thing, but being stuck in a haunted elevator? Absolutely not.”
I hit the emergency button. The alarm sounded, sharp and grating in the tight space.
“It’s not haunted,” I said flatly, staring at the closed doors. “We’re just stuck.” My voice turned colder. “Perfect.”
Valentina exhaled and slipped her phone into her bag, leaning back against the wall with a smile that looked more amused than appropriate.
“Well,” she said, light and almost cheerful, “I guess we’ll be waiting together.” Her eyes flicked to me, playful. “At least the company seems… pleasant.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by how casual she was.
“I would prefer not to be in anyone’s company right now,” I said coldly, making my disinterest clear.
She either didn’t notice—or chose to ignore it.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “I’m excellent in crises. Once I was stuck in traffic for three hours and I basically wrote my entire thesis in the car.” She kept going when I didn’t respond, shifting her weight and pouting dramatically. “I probably should’ve paid more attention to the ‘executive use only’ sign, huh?” She smiled. “I don’t blame you for not being thrilled to share an elevator with me.”
Something about her unexpected honesty caught me off guard.
I let out a slow breath. She laughed again.
“I promise I won’t make your day worse than it already is.”
I watched her with suspicion, strangely drawn to her ability to accept discomfort without bitterness.
“Very generous of you,” I muttered, gaze returning to the doors.
Valentina opened her bag, rummaged around, and pulled out a small chocolate bar.
“Chocolate?” she offered with a bright smile. “It helps in moments like this.”
“No, thank you.”
“Oh, seriously?” She lifted her brows in exaggerated surprise. “So Mr. Ferrara doesn’t like chocolate? Or do you just not accept candy from strangers?”
I considered whether she was provoking me or whether this was simply her peculiar coping mechanism.
“Maybe both,” I said finally—and to my annoyance, I felt the slightest amusement in my own voice.
“Fair,” she agreed with a grin, shrugging as she slowly unwrapped the chocolate. “But I bet if we’re stuck here another half hour, you’ll be begging for a piece.”
A small, involuntary smile tugged at my mouth.
I shook my head and looked back at the closed doors, wondering what the hell was happening to me.
I didn’t recognize myself in this interaction.
And as much as I didn’t want to admit it…
it was difficult to stay angry with someone like her nearby.
I needed to get out of this elevator before my irritation turned into anything else.
