Page 2 of 21 Nights with Billionaire Boss

The elevator door slides open but I’m too busy glaring at my phone screen, my thumb hovering over it, indecisive. It would be great to pick up and give my ex a piece of my mind. But I also don’t want to ruin my day talking to him.

“Are you coming in or what?” a deep baritone voice says.

I look up and my mouth pops open. A literal god stands in the elevator. He’s wearing a light gray suit with a white shirt underneath. The open collar reveals deep olive skin. Pushing out a breath, I look up to meet eyes that are a dark blue, almostblack. Even the atmosphere around him carries the same energy and I debate entering the elevator. Not because I’m terrified.

No, I’m worried about what I’d do locked in a space with this man. For reasons unknown to man, a chill races through my body and I know it’s only him that can warm me.

His eyes assess me too, and they grow darker. Probably because I’m nearly naked.

The elevator doors begin to slide together. He stops their smooth glide with a firm hand.

“Come in,” he stresses.

Yeah, right. That’s what I’m supposed to do. I step forward, just over the threshold of the elevator doors, and stop there.

There is no way I’m drawing closer to him.

The doors start to move again. This time, they close and then we’re descending. I feel a tug and then—

Twaarrpp.

What in the world?

I look down and my heart jumps into my throat. The entire lower half of my dress is gone. And I’m standing in a public space with only my bikini bottoms and half of a dress.

Shame heats my cheek. I glance up and the man’s looking at me, a slight sneer on his lips. I press my thighs together but there’s no way to hide myself. I won’t be able to go back up until we get down. I have to risk running into other people.

Shit! What do I do?

I inch my way to the corner of the elevator and glue myself to the wall. Maybe if I make myself as small as possible, no one would notice me.

It doesn’t take long before the elevator stops. I spy a couple from behind my lashes when a broad back shields my view of them.

And them from me...

The man is helping me. More folks pour into the elevator but he has me blocked from all angles, standing strong like a sentinel.

The elevator stops again and others empty out. Save for me and the man. I expect him to leave.

“What’s your floor?” he asks, his voice sending warmth pooling in my belly.

“What?”

“I’m guessing you’d like to go change?” he speaks as if I’m reasoning too slowly. “On what floor is your room?”

“The sixth floor,” I blurt, glad he’s backing me and can’t see my blushing face.

The elevator rides us back up and this time, no one else joins us.

“Thank you,” my voice cuts into the silence.

He glances back, eyebrow lifted as if he has forgotten I’m here.

“For blocking me from their view.”

He hums a sound I take as a ‘you’re welcome,’ and goes back to watching the space ahead.

I’m mortified and I don’t know why. Aside from his silence, this very handsome man doesn’t mind helping me at all. And he hasn’t once made me feel weird for being here and naked. Except for the initial look. What was that about?