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“Later, girl,” Lia said. “Enjoy your first day as a professional sex kitten.”
Crap.
I hadn’t expected this to be the first part of the day to throw me off. Of course, I should have guessed that I’d run into some sort of trouble in an elevator. That was just becoming the pattern this week.
Just smile and be confident, I told myself despite the fact that I’d received the onceover from every last person who’d filed into the elevator. It was men and women alike, and it was nothing offensively leering or critical – it was just, apparently, a huge yet surprisingly cliquey building, and they all quietly knew that I didn’t belong.
The fact only grew clearer as the elevator started moving. Despite all heading to different floors, everyone began chatting casually. They smiled and laughed as they talked about their weekends – about finally trying that omakase on Twelfth Street, or escaping to a friend’s house in the Hamptons. Everyone was of a certain status here. Everyone maintained a certain lifestyle, and everyone knew each other.
Except for me.
I looked away after catching someone’s eye and hearing him drop his voice to a mutter. “Who’s that?” he asked his colleague, who responded with something I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it prompted them both to laugh.
Good Lord.
Who knew the suits at Hoult Tower could be so catty? And who knew that after all these years, the new girl feeling would still strike fear in my heart? It brought me right back to all the memories I’d convinced myself were mostly gone. God, I’d clearly been premature in patting myself on the back for getting over all those.
Apparently, all it took was being an outsider again for everything to come back.
Dammit, Sara, you’re twenty-seven, I berated myself. That seemed about the right age to outgrow bad memories. Right? I didn’t have the answer to that question, and I didn’t actually want to think about
it now, so I just tucked myself into the corner and closed my eyes, doing my best to drive the useless thoughts out of my head. Good, I thought as the elevator stopped again. It gave me more time to meditate.
At least I thought it did. But then I felt the hush fall over the small space. I felt a strange little shift in the air, and I could practically hear everyone’s posture creaking straight.
Then came the first, “Good morning, Mr. Hoult.”
I opened my eyes to find Julian’s electric stare already pinned on mine from the door. My pulse jumped, but with a flick, he returned his gaze to the man who’d greeted him. They exchanged a line of polite conversation before Julian moved through the small huddle of suits. I watched the way everyone swiftly changed around him. They stood at attention, presented themselves better. It was kind of fascinating.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Morning, Mr. Hoult.”
He acknowledged each greeting with an efficient nod before finding his way to the back corner. My cheeks were on fire but I did my best to maintain professionalism as I looked him in the eye and smiled.
“Mr. Hoult,” I said.
“Ms. Hanna.”
I could feel the attention of the others as he greeted me by name. Just like that, an invisible spotlight was cast upon me. Thankfully, despite a knowing and almost wicked smile, Julian spoke with the utmost professionalism.
“How are you this morning?” he asked me.
“Very well, thank you,” I responded, allowing myself a peek at him. Yes, please. Dark blue suit and tie. Cufflinks worth more than my savings. He was effortless beauty as usual, but I was getting better at breathing steady around it. “I did start a little nervous, but I’m better now,” I confessed as the elevator opened again to let in a few more.
The huddle shifted wordlessly to make room, and I bit my lip when I found myself pressed against the back wall, Julian standing directly over me. He indulged in a second-long glance of my absurdly pushed-up breasts, but he swiftly averted his eye when I asked, “How are you?”
His eyes locked on mine. “Better now as well. Thank you.”
I blushed. The suits were all quiet as mice now, sneaking the occasional glance at Julian and me through the mirrors. Yeah, if you think this is scandalous, you should have seen the last elevator we were in, I thought as the doors opened again, this time welcoming an older, incredibly boisterous man complaining about something or another. Whoever he was, the many eye rolls I spotted told me that the suits was used to his daily antics. With a short laugh, Julian leaned into me.
“Get ready,” he whispered.
Before I could ask what he meant, I felt a sharp jostle, the huddle swelling dramatically to make room for the sheer size and volume of our new guest. I felt a second of Julian’s chest pressed hard against mine, and my mouth stayed locked in a little O when he pulled back to find my palm laid flat on his solid abs.
His brows lifted at the same languid pace that I curled my fingers against his ridges.
Oops.
