The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
Liam stepped in first. Diana followed, and behind them, just before the doors closed, a couple squeezed in.
Mid-thirties. The woman nudging the man's arm. "You didn't book the spa did you," she said flatly.
"I told you yesterday." The man didn't look up from his phone. "I booked it."
She stared at him. "When?"
"Just now."
Liam glanced at the woman once. [42/100] floated above her head. He looked away.
The doors closed.
Liam pressed 12. The panel lit up. The man pressed 7.
The elevator started moving.
Liam stood beside Diana, close enough that their arms touched.
She was looking straight ahead, composed, her hands folded loosely in front of her. The silver-white waves of her hair fell past her shoulders.
The cream dress hugged her waist, the hem sitting just above her knees. She looked like she'd just come from a board meeting.
Liam looked at her. Then he looked at the floor numbers ticking upward.
