As they drove through the city, Jane laid out the details of the company, her voice quick with that familiar mix of nerves and excitement. "It's massive—branches in everything from tech to consumer goods. We're heading for their marketing and advertising division. Big portfolios, big expectations."
Evelyn nodded, watching the buildings slide past her window. "Sounds like the real deal."
The office tower rose ahead of them, all glass and steel, humming with people streaming in and out. Jane walked in like she owned the place, shoulders back, while Evelyn trailed a step behind, taking it all in. In the waiting area, though, Jane's confidence started to fray at the edges. She shifted in her seat, fingers tapping against her knee.
Evelyn leaned closer. "You've got this. They're the ones who should be nervous."
Jane managed a quick smile, grateful. "Wish me luck," she said, already rising as her name echoed from the intercom.
Then she was gone, disappearing behind a heavy door. Evelyn sat alone among the other applicants, the low murmur of conversations and ringing phones filling the space. After a few minutes of staring at the same abstract painting on the wall, she stood up. Might as well look around instead of sitting here feeling out of place.
She wandered the halls, riding elevators up and down, stopping at the café on the ground floor for a coffee. One wrong turn led to another. The corridors grew quieter, the lights dimmer, the usual bustle fading behind her. Doors stayed closed. Signs pointed to departments she'd never heard of.
"Great," she muttered, stopping in the middle of yet another identical hallway. "Now I'm lost."
She tried retracing her steps, but the building had other ideas. Every corner looked the same. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, the sound echoing back at her. Unease settled in her stomach, tight and unwelcome. She pushed open another set of doors and found herself in a service corridor that stretched long and empty.
Finally, an elevator. She jabbed the call button harder than necessary, clutching her coffee cup like a lifeline. The doors opened with a soft chime.
Inside stood a man.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black turtleneck that fit him too well and dark trousers. His arms filled the sleeves with quiet strength, one hand tucked casually into his pocket. Sharp jaw, cool blue eyes that flicked over her once before looking away, as if she were part of the decor. He smelled faintly of something clean and expensive—cedar, maybe, and crisp linen.
Evelyn hesitated for half a second outside the doors, then stepped in. She pressed her floor and stood as far from him as the small space allowed, cheeks already warming. She could feel him there, solid and indifferent, like the elevator had gained an extra wall.
The silence stretched.
"Have you looked enough?" His voice cut through it, low and edged with dry amusement.
Evelyn's face burned. "I wasn't—" She stopped, swallowed. "I wasn't staring."
No reply. He didn't even glance her way.
The elevator started its descent. Then it jolted hard, metal groaning. The floor lurched violently. Evelyn staggered, coffee sloshing in her cup as the lights stuttered. Panic flared. Without thinking, she reached out instinctively, fingers grasping for his arm—anything solid to steady herself.
He moved before she could touch him.
A smooth, almost casual sidestep. Her hand closed on empty air. The car bucked again and she pitched forward with a sharp cry, unable to catch herself. Her knees slammed into the floor first, then her hip and shoulder. The coffee cup flew from her grip and exploded across the floor, cold liquid splashing over her blouse and skirt, soaking through to her skin in an instant.
The elevator shuddered to a stop. The lights steadied.
Evelyn sat there on the damp floor, drenched and stunned, breathing hard. She stared up at him. He stood exactly where he'd shifted, perfectly balanced, looking down at her with those icy blue eyes. His gaze drifted over her ruined clothes, the way the wet fabric now clung to her chest and thighs, and the corner of his mouth twitched—just once—as if the entire situation mildly amused him.
"You," she breathed, recognition hitting her like a second jolt. The same man from the hospital corridor. The same arrogant indifference.
He didn't answer. The doors had opened at some floor. Without a word, he stepped neatly over her sprawled form, careful not to let his shoes touch the spreading coffee, and walked out. His posture remained relaxed, hands sliding back into his pockets as if he hadn't just dodged her like she was contagious.
Evelyn remained on the floor a moment longer, the chill of the coffee seeping deeper, anger and humiliation burning in her chest. She pushed herself up slowly, brushing uselessly at the stains now plastered to her body.
The doors began to close again. She slammed her palm against the button to hold them open, glaring at the empty hallway where he'd vanished.
"Asshole," she whispered under her breath.
But the word didn't erase the memory of her hand closing on nothing, or the effortless way he'd let her fall.