The elevator jars,and for a split second my brain doesn’t even register what’s happening. Then the lights flicker and everything stops, air thick and silent. I freeze, heart slamming against my ribs.
No—no, no, no.
I can’t help it. I let out a sharp shriek, stumbling back until my shoulder hits the mirrored wall. The small space seems to close in on me, the air suddenly thin and stifling. My hands are shaking so badly I nearly drop my phone.
Aleksei is already moving toward me, but my fear overruns everything. I dart forward, crashing straight into his chest, desperate for something solid. My hands clutch at his jacket, my face pressed to his shirt as panic bubbles up, ragged and raw.
He’s tense, startled, but his arms come around me—steady, strong, warm. For a second I just cling to him, unable to pull away, sucking in quick, shallow breaths that do nothing to help. My heart races so hard it hurts.
“I—I can’t—” I stammer, my voice muffled. “I can’t do elevators. I can’t?—”
He’s silent for a moment, then his hand cups the back of my head, grounding me. I feel the steady thud of his heart beneath my cheek, the deep, slow drag of his breath.
His arms don’t let go. The longer I cling to him, the more the panic dulls, replaced by the embarrassing realization that I’m trembling, and he knows it.
He keeps his voice low, words plain, unhurried. “It’s okay, it’s fine. You’re fine, I’m right here with you. The elevator isn’t moving anymore, the likeliness of our surviving is far more.”
I let out a shaky breath that’s half a laugh. “Is this your idea of comfort?”
He grunts. “Would you rather I talk about the weather?”
That makes me smile, against all odds. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He looks down, his face that usual stone, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “I could try singing. But I’m warning you, that would scare you more than being stuck with me here.”
I’m not afraid of you,I want to say.
I try to be brave, but my voice shakes. “I hate this. I really hate small spaces.” I let out a brittle laugh, forcing myself to keep breathing. “It’s stupid, I know. I just—I get stuck and I can’t stop thinking about what happens if the doors never open again.”
Aleksei’s arms are around me, solid and warm. He tucks my head under his chin, rubbing slow circles on my back. “It’s notstupid.” His voice is steady, almost gentle. “You’re not alone. Look at me.”
I do, blinking up at him, struggling to keep it together. It’s darker in here than I realized, just a flickering strip of light overhead. My hands are shaking where they clutch his jacket.
“I had a panic attack once, when I was a kid,” I admit, the words tumbling out. “Got stuck in a closet for hours. My parents forgot about me. Since then—” I shrug, feeling small. “I know it’s irrational, but sometimes it just…takes over.”
He’s quiet, listening, thumb tracing along my jaw. “You can always tell me if you’re scared,” he murmurs. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I look into his eyes, so close, so dark in the shadowed elevator. “You promise?” I whisper, voice barely there.
He nods, brushing my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I promise. You’re okay,” he says again, voice low, his hands moving over my back. “It’ll start moving in a minute.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, embarrassed by how tightly I’m clinging to him. “I really, really hate elevators.”
He’s quiet for a beat, then, “I noticed.”
That makes me laugh, shaky but real, and I feel the tension start to loosen in my chest. “Sorry. Not exactly how I pictured ending my week.”
“Could be worse,” he says, sounding almost amused. “We could be stuck with Owen. He really likes to go off about spreadsheets.”
I let out a surprised snort, looking up at him. His mouth twitches, just a little, and for the first time I realize he might actually have a sense of humor buried under all that intensity.
“Is this your version of small talk?” I ask, voice still a little breathless.
His gaze softens, just a hint. “I don’t get much practice.”
“Maybe you should. It suits you.”
We’re close now—too close, really. I should step back, but his hand is still at my waist, warm and grounding. My head tips up, his leans down, and for a second all I can see are his eyes.
