Her eyes caught on his watch. Elegant, classic, understated. She liked that about him. She liked...a lot of things about him.
Then the position of the watch hands registered. She gasped, flinching so hard she almost flipped over her wineglass.
“What?” Darren asked, startled. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”
“Please tell me your watch is broken,” she breathed.
“No. It works fine. What’s wrong?”
Emma was already pushing back from the table, sobriety hitting like cold water. “Oh my god. I’m going to be late.”
“For . . .”
“I have a bookstore reading in twenty minutes. Across town.” She grabbed her bag, found her phone wedged under the usual pile ofeverythings, and stared at the flood of missed calls and caps-locked texts.
“Shit.” Emma’s skin went cold. “Leah’s going to kill me. Probably with a pair of very expensive heels, and then wear them to my funeral.” She looked up at Darren, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “Could you get the check? I’ll have her sort it later.”
“Already taken care of,” Darren said, standing too. “Twenty minutes should be fine, Emma. I’ll come with you.”
They darted for the elevator, his hand finding the small of her back. She barely noticed, too focused on firing off aSORRY!!! On my way!to Leah, then scrambling for an Uber.
“There must be stairs somewhere.” Emma scanned for emergency signs as they reached the hallway, while keeping an eye on her phone. A driver finally confirmed her trip. Four minutes.
“The elevator’s right here,” Darren said. The doors slid apart, and he tugged the brass gate open.
She side-eyed it, but there was no time to argue. “Fine.” She stepped inside, jabbing the ground floor button as soon as the gate clicked shut behind them. The lift shuddered to life.
Emma pushed back against the low surge of panic rising beneath her skin. The Uber was booked. Midday traffic shouldn’t be terrible. She could still make it in time.
Still, the elevator was infuriatingly sluggish.
“Could this thing be any slower?” she grumbled.
Darren leaned against the wall, fingers tracing the round metal railing. “Don’t be mean. It has character.”
She scoffed, trying not to imagine the look Leah would give her when she finally arrived. Or the room full of people who’d come just for her, left waiting because she’d been too busy having lemon risotto with a movie star.
The thought made her cringe. She wasn’t that person. She hated disappointing people—especially her fans.
At least Darren seemed to think they would make it in time. Maybe a few minutes late, but that would be fine. It probably wasn’t as bad as she—
The elevator stopped.
Not dramatically. Not in a way that made it seem like they were seconds from plummeting to their death.
Just a soft jolt and a low hum from the machinery. As if it felt content with its work for the day and decided to take a break.
Emma went rigid. “What just happened?”
Darren ran his hand over the paneling as if diagnosing it, looking around curiously. “We appear to be stationary,” he offered. Then he lowered his voice. “I think you might have insulted it.”
“Cute,” she snapped.
She tried the button again, panic seeping into her bloodstream. The elevator ignored her completely.
Both of them turned at the same time to the elaborate brass gate, tauntingly similar to a prison cell door.
Through the bars—solid wall.
