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CHAPTER FOUR — PRIVATE FLOORS & Public Whispers
ELENOR
The day had been going well.
Too well.
She'd finally gotten through the new system logins, finished typing up the Wolfe Holdings quarterly brief, and was almost — almost — beginning to forget about the shirt situation from yesterday.
Until the elevator.
It was late. Most of the staff had already left. Elenor was organizing files for a 9 a.m. board meeting when she realized she'd left her notebook upstairs in the executive lounge.
One quick ride up, she told herself.
She stepped into the elevator.
And just before the doors closed, a deep voice called out:
"Hold the doors."
She froze.
Of all the people—
Alexander Wolfe stepped in, all suit and presence, his expression unreadable as ever.
She moved to the side. "I didn't know anyone was still here."
"I could say the same," he said, pressing a button.
She watched his hand.
He didn't press the regular floor.
He pressed P.
"Private floor?" she asked before she could stop herself.
His gaze slid to her. "You weren't supposed to see that."
"Oh." Her heart gave a traitorous skip. "Should I step out?"
The doors closed.
Too late.
Silence.
Tense. Thick. Crackling.
The elevator moved — smooth, silent — until it jerked.
Stopped.
The lights flickered.
"Oh, no," she whispered.
Alexander sighed. "It's just a pause between system resets. Happens sometimes."
"So we're… stuck?"
"Temporarily."
She looked up at the display. Still frozen.
Cool air hummed around them. Not enough.
Suddenly, the space felt too small. Too close. His cologne lingered in the air again. Why did he always smell like trouble?
She shifted her weight. Her shoulder brushed his chest.
"Sorry," she said quickly, pulling back.
He didn't answer.
But he didn't step away either.
His voice, low and dry: "You always apologize when you touch someone?"
Her head snapped up. "Do you always make everything sound like a dare?"
That earned her a look — the kind that made her forget her own name. His mouth curved, just a little. A smirk. That damn smirk again.
"You should know by now," he said quietly, "I like people who challenge me."
Her breath hitched.
A second too long passed between them.
The lights blinked again. The elevator shuddered — and started moving.
She exhaled.
Alexander didn't say a word as the doors opened to the private floor. But before stepping out, he glanced over his shoulder.
"Be careful, Miss Vale."
"With elevators?"
His gaze dipped to her lips.
"With me."
Then he was gone.
And Elenor stood alone — heart pounding, knees weak, knowing full well she'd just stepped into the start of something she couldn't control.
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ALEXANDER
It was supposed to be a two-minute ride.
Get to the top floor. Grab the file. Leave.
But of course, Elenor Vale had to be there — soft curls, stubborn mouth, and that constant fire in her eyes that made him want to both push her away and pull her closer.
The elevator stalled for thirty seconds. Enough time for one accidental brush of her body against his.
Not intentional.
But not forgettable either.
She flinched, embarrassed. He didn't move.
Why should he? She was in his space, but she didn't shrink. Not like most people. She pushed back. She always did. That was the problem.
That's what made it interesting.
Too interesting.
He hadn't meant to speak the way he did. Or maybe he had. Hell if he knew anymore. He was starting to forget how to be indifferent around her.
Which was dangerous.
Rumors would come — that much he knew. People always talked. Especially when they saw someone like him alone in an elevator with someone like her.
And especially when he didn't bother to hide the way he looked at her.
Let them talk.
He wasn't worried about the rumors.
He was worried about the truth hiding beneath them.
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LATER THAT NIGHT…
Whispers traveled faster than memos at Wolfe Holdings.
"Did you see her come out of the private elevator?"
"She was in there alone. With him."
"He never lets anyone ride that elevator."
"Maybe she's more than just an assistant…"
Elenor ignored it all.
She kept her head high, her heels steady.
But inside?
Her world was shifting.
Because what scared her most wasn't the whispers — it was the way her heart raced in response.
Not with fear.
But with want.
And she wasn't sure she could afford that.
Not with him.
Not again.
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