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“What happened?” Maxim asked as he placed his hand on her back. He could feel her trembling and frowned.
He knew the sort of control it took to pretend to be calm when you were falling apart on the inside.
And he didn’t like that she knew how to do that.
Who had taught her that she had to hide her fears like that?
“Power outage,” Brian said, scratching his head.
Aston grimaced, but still didn’t say a word as Maxim gently pushed her out of the elevator.
He could feel her let out a deep breath, but her facial expression didn’t change.
“Took a while for the elevator to get back on board.”
“I trust you have someone coming to check it out today,” Maxim said.
“Ah, yeah, sure. Fuck. Look at this mess,” Brian grumbled. “I’m not a fucking cleaning service.”
Aston tensed, turning back to stare into the elevator.
Maxim spotted a lipstick, a pack of gum, and a box of tampons. The lid was open, and several tampons lay around the floor.
Her tension grew. He knew she didn’t want to get back into that elevator and he didn’t blame her. So he walked in and picked up all of her stuff.
“I didn’t mean you had to pick it up, Mr. Malone,” Brian muttered. “She could have picked up her own shit.”
God, he was a dick. Maxim had always known it, but he’d never seen the way he treated other tenants.
Maxim might have to do something about that.
Aston was staring at her feet, ignoring them both. He was so confused by this Aston.
He wanted grouchy, snarky Aston back. But instead of saying anything, he put his hand on the small of her back again, guiding her over to the stairs. When they were through the fire door, she stepped away from him and grabbed her things with a mumbled thanks.
“What was that?” he asked, holding his hand to his ear. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”
“Going deaf in your old age?” she snarked.
“Yep, because thirty-three is so ancient,” he countered as they moved up the stairs.
Fuck, it was going to be annoying climbing fifteen flights of stairs, especially with his ribs aching like a son of a bitch. But he didn’t complain, just stuck close to Aston’s side as she moved up the stairs at a quick pace.
“Thirty-three? Wow, I could have sworn you were like forty-five. Age isn’t being kind to you, is it?”
He threw back his head and laughed, sore ribs be damned. God, she was funny. Stilling, she stared at him in shock.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I just . . . nothing.”
“Come on, what? You’ve never bothered to hold back. Why do it now? And what was that with Brian back there?”
“What was what?” she asked, clearly trying to move out in front of him. However, her legs were shorter than his and he wasn’t letting her get away from him.
“You didn’t rip him a new one. Didn’t even give him one of those cold, haughty looks.”
“I don’t have a cold, haughty look.”
“Sure, you do. You’re giving it to me right now.”
She groaned and turned around. “You’re impossible. I’m going to be late. I don’t have time for this.”
“What time do you start work?”
“Eight.”
“Eight? Babe, it’s only just past eight now. How far do you have to travel?”
“It takes me about fifteen minutes on the bus.”
There it was again. The b-word.
“You don’t seriously take the bus.”
“What’s wrong with the bus?” she asked, looking confused.
“It’s not safe.”
She snorted. “Neither is riding the elevator in this building apparently. Do you think he’s even going to get someone to check it?”
“He will,” he said in a cold voice.
She stilled and glanced over at him, studying him as though trying to determine whether he was speaking the truth.
“Are you going to tell me what happened to your face?”
He gave her an irreverent grin. “That’s nothing for you to worry about, sweetness.”
He expected her to roll her eyes. To huff at him impatiently. But for some reason, there was a hint of hurt in her gaze.
She quickly stifled it, but he knew what he’d seen.
Why was she hurt?
He studied her, his own smile fading. “Rainbow? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Just . . . tired.”
“You should take the day off.”
She started up the stairs again, shaking her head. “There’s no need.”
“There is when you’ve had a fright. You need to rest.” She looked exhausted. Why wouldn’t she listen to him?
Maybe because she’s not yours, dickhead. Why should she listen to you? It’s not like you’ve ever really taken care of someone before. Not really.
He glanced down at his hands, surprised to see they were clenched into fists. What was that about?
They reached the seventh floor and she veered off through the fire door. He followed her.
She paused. “This isn’t your floor.”
“I know.”
“Then where are you going?” she asked.
“I’m seeing you to your door.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”
