Page 11 of Matteo

That’s not the kind of comment I expect from someone like her. Hell, from anyone. None of the tech guys have ever said anything remotely like that. I find myself more intrigued than ever. “It can still glitch. The Knights aren’t invincible.”

“You work here?”

This is the second time she’s asked me and I can’t dodge it any longer. “You could say that.” I wonder if she’s curious about me, or whether her question is limited to my prowess on the job.

“Then why don’t you call building maintenance?” She steps away from the control panel.

I lift a brow. “I’d be lucky to get one bar this deep in the shaft.”

Just then a voice comes through the intercom.

“This is the control room. Sorry for the inconvenience. We’re working on it and we urge you to please stay calm.”

I recognize the voice. It’s Eddie, from Facilities Management. I lean toward the speaker grill. “How long is this outage going to last?”

“We estimate no more than thirty minutes, sir. We’re working quickly. How many of you are in there?”

“Just the two of us.”

“Apologies once again. Please remain calm. We’ll get this fixed as quickly as we can.”

I move back, shoving my hands into my back pockets. “See. The guy said to stay calm. Excellent advice. I suggest you take it.”

The woman stares back at me speechless.

“We’ll be out of here before you know it. Might as well get acquainted.”

She groans. “I’m going to be so late.”

“You have an interview?”

She nods.

She’s an intern. Knew it. It explains some of her nerves. The rest? That’s something else entirely. She doesn’t answer but sinks back against the wall, looking even more uneasy.

“You were checking me out,” I say, trying to move her attention elsewhere. It’s starting to get stifling in here. The air suddenly feels thick and heavy.

“Oh, please. I was just making sure your tattoos weren’t gang-related.”

I can’t help but chortle at that. “You’re funny.” I swipe a hand through my hair and note the way her gaze fixes on my arms. “What would you know about gang-related tattoos? And these are not, by the way.”

She quickly looks away, down at the floor and shifts her body, fidgeting like she’s restless.

She likes me. Knew it.

“Twenty to thirty minutes,” she echoes, pointedly ignoring my question. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

I try for humor again. “Relax. The elevator’s taking a coffee break.”

“Very funny. Don’t change to being a comedian any time soon.”

I find myself chortling again. She really is funny. I’m intrigued. “Excellent advice. I’ll take it.”

She’s trying to act brave, but I can tell that it’s quietly freaking her out when she lets out another shaky breath. The floor indicator is stuck on seventy-two. I peer through the narrow slit between the doors and see the concrete lip of the next floor above. We’re stuck between floors, and so high up. I can’t blame her for being on edge.

“It happens sometimes when the system switches power grids. Tech upgrades, software resets … that kinda thing.” Like most modern buildings, this one runs on a backup power grid and I know we’ll be up and running in no time.

She presses her palm to the wall, like she’s trying to steady herself. “Great, but also not great, especially when I’m supposed to be someplace else right now.”