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Chapter 4 - The battle in the elevator

The elevator doors slid shut behind her with a soft whoosh, enclosing Sophie Carter in a tight, glass-walled space. She barely had time to settle before the crowd pressed in around her, bodies close, warm, unyielding. She found herself standing directly in front of a man whose presence seemed to fill the entire small room.

He was impossibly tall—Sophie barely reached his chest at five feet four. His posture was rigid and imposing, shoulders broad beneath a suit that looked custom-made: deep charcoal fabric that caught the light just enough to reveal subtle texture. The tie, loosely knotted, was dark as midnight, and his sleeves were rolled up to just below the elbows, revealing lean, powerful forearms.

There was something quietly magnetic about him. His skin was smooth, with just a faint hint of something Asian in his sharp cheekbones and the shape of his eyes—eyes that were dark, intense, like storm clouds waiting to break. His hair was thick and jet black, tousled in a way that suggested he didn't have a moment to spare for grooming today. And yet, everything about him screamed control.

Sophie swallowed, trying not to let her racing heart betray how nervous she was. She barely knew the man, didn't even know his name, but the energy he gave off was impossible to ignore.

Who is he? she wondered. And why do I feel like I'm standing in the eye of a hurricane?

She noticed the faint scent of sandalwood and something spicy — an aroma that clung to him like an invisible cloak. It unsettled her in the best possible way.

The lawyers entered the elevator after her and forced her to be at the back of it. Her breath hitched slightly as she found her back being pressed lightly against his chest as the elevator lurched upward, the close quarters forcing their bodies closer than she expected. She felt the heat radiating off him, the subtle tension in the muscles beneath his jacket. He didn't speak or acknowledge her, but Sophie could almost hear the storm raging behind his calm exterior.

He looks so tired, she thought, scanning the lines around his eyes in the reflection of the elevator doors and the way his jaw clenched just slightly. Like he's carrying the weight of the world on those broad shoulders.

Despite the nerves swirling inside her, there was an odd sense of safety in his presence, a silent strength that steadied her shaking hands as she clutched her portfolio to her chest.

Her thoughts raced, but the elevator's soft mechanical hum and the dim lighting gave everything a surreal, suspended feeling—as if time itself had slowed just for this moment.

What am I even doing here? she suddenly asked herself coming to her senses. Sneaking into a building.... And now this?

Her gaze flicked up to his profile reflecting in the doors, catching the faint line of his strong nose, the sharp cut of his jaw, and the intensity of those dark eyes staring straight ahead.

For a moment, their proximity felt like a collision—a charged current pulsing through the narrow space between them. Sophie's breath hitched, and she forced herself to take slow, steady inhales, willing the flutter of excitement and anxiety to settle.

She was lost in the storm of thoughts when the elevator dinged softly, a reminder that their journey was nearing its end. The doors slid open, but neither of them moved right away.

Sophie's mind whispered questions she didn't dare voice aloud: Who was this man? Why did standing this close feel so overwhelming? And what would happen once the doors opened and they stepped back into the chaos of the real world?

For now, all she knew was that this unexpected moment—this brief, electric contact—had already changed everything.

The elevator dinged sharply as it reached their floor. The doors slid open to reveal a corridor gleaming with polished marble and glass, every surface reflecting the controlled precision of Wolf Industries.

For a heartbeat, Sophie froze—her feet rooted to the floor by nerves that coiled tight in her chest. Her grip on her portfolio tightened, knuckles paling.

In front of her, the lawyers surged forward in a tide of dark suits and clipped words. The man behind her, towering over her at six feet two, was an imposing presence at her back—sharp lines of a high quality tailored suit, crisp white shirt, and silk tie now loosened around his throat. There was something in the set of his jaw, the faint shadow of an old scar at his temple, and the cool glint of dark eyes that suggested both exhaustion and a dangerous edge. The hint of Asian ancestry softened what might otherwise have been a cold, patrician severity, but nothing about his expression invited conversation.

He made no move to help, no words of polite encouragement. Instead, his voice cut through the air, low and impatient.

"Move," he said, without so much as glancing at her.

The single word fell heavy, sharp as glass. Sophie startled, breath catching in her throat, and stepped quickly out into the corridor—heat creeping up her neck.

For a moment, she hovered just past the elevator threshold, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. The nearness of him had done something strange to her pulse, left her oddly breathless, though he hadn't even really looked at her.

In the hall the lawyers voices was overlapping in tense fragments:

"They won't budge on the closing terms—"

"We can threaten to pull out—"

"They know we won't—"

Alex moved forward, ignoring her completely, his gaze locked on some far point down the hall, jaw tight with controlled irritation. His indifference felt almost like a slap—cold, impersonal, absolute.

Sophie swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a steadying breath. Part of her wanted to shrink away, to disappear back into the elevator, but something kept her legs moving.

He didn't see her. Didn't care to.

Yet, impossibly, the echo of his low voice still rang in her chest—startling, sharp, and strangely magnetic.

She stepped quickly to the side, almost leaning on the opposite wall, her mind racing with anxious questions she dared not voice. And still, beneath the nerves and the faint embarrassment, a quiet, reckless spark burned:

Who was this man, that a single word from him could make her heart trip over itself?

And why, despite everything, did she already want to hear it again?

Sophie stepped away from the wall allowing the hush of the executive floor to swallow her. The soft click of her low heels seemed almost too loud against the marble tiles.

She paused, portfolio clutched to her chest, scanning the pristine corridor lined with frosted glass doors and minimalist signage. Each door bore only a discreet silver plaque: Legal, Acquisitions, Strategy—names that meant little to her at this moment.

Where was HR supposed to meet her?

Her instructions, buried somewhere in the last email, had seemed clear before: Reception will direct you to Conference Room B. But the receptionist downstairs hadn't even let her sign in.

Heart still thudding, Sophie turned right, peering at the door nearest to her. Frosted glass offered only blurred silhouettes of people inside, talking, gesturing—none of them familiar.

Calm down, she told herself. It's just an office. You've been in plenty.

But the memory of the elevator clung stubbornly, warm and unsettling. The man's presence had filled that small space so completely that even now, with several feet between them, she could still feel the echo of it—a heat at her back, the weight of a voice that cut through her hesitation without effort.

Move.

It hadn't been gentle. It hadn't even been polite. Yet there was something in the low, unyielding timbre that stuck in her chest, quickening her pulse.

Who was he? A senior executive? Someone important, clearly—the way the lawyers had all orbited him like moons around a planet. And tall, so tall that she, barely five foot four, had felt almost swallowed up standing in front of him.

She shook herself, forcing her gaze back to the hallway. The walls smelled faintly of fresh paint and new carpet, a corporate sterility that should have grounded her but didn't.

Up ahead, another set of doors: Human Resources. Relief loosened something in her shoulders. She took a step forward, only to falter again as she passed a glass wall on her left.

Through another door, she glimpsed him—the man from the elevator—standing with his back half-turned, tie loosened further, head bent as one of the lawyers spoke to him in a fast, urgent undertone.

Even from this distance, the line of tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.

Focus, Sophie, she scolded herself. You have an interview. You can't let some stranger, no matter how unfairly magnetic, knock you off balance.

She turned away firmly, pressing a palm to the cool glass door marked HR. But as she stepped inside, she couldn't quite stop her mind from replaying those few seconds in the elevator: the warmth of him at her back, the low command in his voice, and the fleeting, absurd hope that next time, he might actually look at her.

Even if he never did, the memory had already found a quiet, stubborn place in her thoughts—an unexpected spark she couldn't seem to extinguish, but somewhere deep in her chest, her heart still beat to the memory of that brief, electric moment.

With a soft inhale, she squared her shoulders, pasted on a professional smile, and walked up to the HR receptionist.

"Hi. Sophie Carter," she said, voice steadier than she felt. "I'm here for my ten o'clock."

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