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Chapter One
The minute I dragged my suitcase into the elevator, it burst open, spilling out vibrators. It looked like someone had beaten a piñata to death, but instead of candy, a mountain of adult toys had spewed out at my feet.
Fate was a slippery old witch, and I had a feeling she was messing with me right now.
I glanced up at the Hulk-sized man marching towards me and jammed my thumb against the ‘close’ button of the elevator, the button squeaking. He signaled with his finger. “Hold the doors.”
I shrugged, my hands held up as the doors began to close. “Sorry, I can’t.” He narrowed his eyes as he came closer, the doors moving painfully slow. “It’s too fast…” I trailed off as the doors shut in his face.
Don’t get me wrong, on any other night, in any other elevator, in any other building, I would have been happy to hold the elevator for a perfect stranger. But not tonight, and definitely not in a building where the average income per household was over a million dollars.
I kneeled back on the floor as I gnawed on my lower lip. My suitcase lay in the corner, halfway open, the zipper seam busted. Over twenty pleasure devices lay thrown about the elevator floor, half of them vibrating so loud it sounded like a swarm of bees hanging around a honeycomb. The universe was not on my side.
I dragged my suitcase closer and began piling the silicone toys back in. Juliet had told me to take the samples to our off-site storage unit. That we could store them there until we moved into our new warehouse. But did I listen? Of course not. And so here I was, in the elevator of my new apartment building at Goodacre Estates, hoping that I didn’t run into any of my new neighbors and give them the wrong impression. Yes, I was the co-owner of a sexual wellness shop called The Shiver Box. No, I was not having an adult toy party in the elevator.
A ding snapped my attention to the doors as they reopened. The shadow I had shut out seconds ago now lingered there, arms crossed against his chest.
Cue eighties rock ballad and slow-motion walk. The man standing in front of me looked like a god straight fromGQmagazine. Dark, disheveled hair, perfect straight jawline with just the right amount of stubble. It should be illegal to look that good. His suit molded to his body in a way that had me drooling. His eyes roamed over the mess on the floor, and he scowled.
Be cool.
“Oh.” I grinned and leaned back on my heels. “Well, you certainly are a quick one.”
Smooth, Nova.
He raised an eyebrow and stepped over a runaway vibrator humming against the floor. I wasn’t embarrassed. There was no need to be. Sexual health was important to everyone’s overall wellness, although this was probably not the right time to bring that up. Grams had stressed not to make her look bad, and so far, I wasn’t doing a great job at it.
He turned his back and pressed the ‘PH’ button on the elevator panel. The doors shut with a swoosh, much faster than moments ago, and the floor jolted underneath my knees as we started moving.
“Can you press twenty, please?”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and pressed the button. The awkwardness grew as we passed the first few floors. It was like he was refusing to acknowledge my presence, or the situation currently happening. I glared at his back. There was an expensive Italian label on the heel of his shoe. Typical.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering where I was. The waitlist to get a unit in this building was over two years. I knew that because my Grams, the matriarch of the La Roux family, had given me a long lecture about how many favors she’d had to call in to get the place, and that I needed to behave myself and act respectably around my new neighbors. I knew she only had good intentions and was trying to celebrate my success, but taking a handout from anyone in my family was something I’d never wanted. Besides, I had been happy living with Juliet in our two-bedroom apartment where the water pressure sucked and our best view was of the trashcans in the alley. It was charming, in that when you sat on the toilet, you banged your knee on the corner of the bathtub. But it was home.
Well, not anymore. You didn’t say no to Grams. Not ever.
The man tapped his foot to the soft music playing overhead, the last rebellious vibrator humming in tune as well. His phone beeped, and he pulled it out, holding it against his ear. “Tell me something good.” He paced to the other side of the elevator and ran his fingers through his hair. “How the hell did Blackwood find out about the deal?” His voice was a low growl, and something told me the person on the other side of that call was in big trouble.
I inched towards the side, snatched the last toy up and powered it off. I risked glancing up. Dark eyes scanned my face, and he looked away, as if I wasn’t worth the trouble. His scowl was back. I stuck my tongue out at him, shimmying myself backwards until my boots hit the back panel. Now was not the time to get worked up over some gorgeous, strange man. I needed to get my suitcase closed and inside my apartment before I did something stupid. I pulled off my leather jacket, ignoring the fancy-pants rich guy as he barked into his phone, and wrapped the sleeves around my suitcase. All those hours watchingNaked and Afraidwere going to pay off. I tied them into a knot, securing the lid, and sent a silent thank you to the universe when it stayed closed.
The elevator jerked to a sudden stop, a light flashing a red hue over us.
Universe two, Nova zero.
I grabbed the railing and hoisted myself to stand up. It was eerily quiet except for a clicking coming from above my head. Of course this would happen to me. I glanced up, half-expecting a hand reaching through the roof of the elevator. A shiver ran down my spine.OK, new rule. No more listening to serial killer podcasts before bed.
“Serial killer?”
I jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to find him watching me, his phone now put away as he crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his legs slightly apart. In rich-man land, this was the “I am in charge” stance. I knew because I had seen my father take this same stance many times when I was growing up. He loved to do it when he found out I had snuck out of the house at one a.m., one of his security dragging me back upstairs to his office. Or when he was dealing with one of his employees who had done something that was very easy to do—made him upset.
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” I plastered a smile on my face and leaned back against the elevator wall. The metal was cool against my back. “Well, this”—I threw my hands up in the air—“was not what I had planned for my Sunday night.”
The man arched an eyebrow, his eyes flickering to my suitcase, then back up at me. “Obviously.”
Jerk.
“We should call someone.” The elevator jerked again, enough to knock me off balance, and my heart slammed against my chest. It wasn’t that I was afraid of tight spaces, heights, or anything even close to that. But being shut in a small elevator at least fifteen stories up was enough to ruffle even my feathers.
