Chapter 8 8

Hali backed away from the door as if it burned her. She stared at the wood, her heart hammering against her ribs.

He was actually there.

Her phone buzzed again.

E.G.: Just kidding. Go to sleep.

Hali let out a breath that was half-scream, half-laugh. She threw her phone onto the sofa. He was playing with her. He wasn't there. It was a power trip.

She ran back to the peephole. The hallway was empty.

But the adrenaline rush had done something strange: it had pushed the grief about Irving into a small, dark box in the back of her mind. She was too angry at Ezra to be sad about Irving.

The next morning, Hali was a zombie. She wore big sunglasses on the subway. She arrived at the office early, hoping to avoid everyone.

She needed to deliver a stack of contracts to the 40th floor. She stepped into the service elevator, grateful it was empty.

Just as the heavy doors were sliding shut, a hand-long fingers, a heavy silver watch-shot out and blocked the sensor.

The doors bounced back open.

Ezra stepped in.

He wasn't wearing a tie today. His top button was undone, revealing the hollow of his throat. He looked devastating.

He saw her and didn't look surprised.

"Morning," he said, pressing the button for the lobby.

Hali pressed herself against the back wall. "Are you following me?"

Ezra turned to face her. "It's my building, Hali. I'm everywhere."

The elevator began to descend. Then, suddenly, there was a loud CRACK from above.

The car shuddered violently. Hali screamed, dropping the files. The lights flickered and died. The elevator slammed to a halt, throwing Hali off balance.

She fell hard, her hip hitting the metal railing.

Darkness swallowed them.

A red emergency light flickered on, casting the small box in a bloody, eerie glow.

Hali was on the floor, breathing hard. "My phone..." she gasped.

She reached for her pocket. Her phone had flown out when she fell. She saw it lying face down near the doors.

She grabbed it. The screen was shattered. A spiderweb of cracks obscured everything. She pressed the power button. Nothing.

"No, no, no!" she cried, tapping the screen frantically.

Ezra was kneeling beside her. "Are you hurt?"

"My phone!" Hali yelled, tears springing to her eyes. "The evidence! I had the screenshots of his location! I had everything!"

Ezra grabbed her wrist, stopping her frantic tapping. "Forget the phone. Are you injured?"

Hali looked at him. The red light made his eyes look black. "I'm fine. But I lost the proof. Now I can't confront him."

Ezra let go of her wrist. He sat back on his heels. He looked around the small, enclosed space. His breathing was audible. A little too fast.

He stood up, but his movement was jerky. He pressed the emergency call button. Static.

"We're stuck," he said. His voice was tight.

Hali looked up at him. He was gripping the railing so hard his knuckles were white. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

He took off his suit jacket-a bespoke piece of Italian wool-and dropped it onto the dirty metal floor.

"Sit," he commanded. "It will be a while."

Hali stared at the jacket. "You're ruining it."

"Sit down, Hali."

She sat on the jacket. It was warm from his body. Ezra sat down next to her, extending his long legs. The space was so small their thighs touched.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the metal wall. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"You're claustrophobic," Hali realized aloud.

Ezra didn't open his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You are. You're sweating."

"Talk to me," Ezra said through gritted teeth. "Just... talk. About anything."

Hali looked at him. The invincible CEO was terrified.

She started talking. She talked about the fabric swatches she had organized. She talked about the coffee machine on the 12th floor that always leaked. She talked about her cat that ran away when she was seven.

She talked for twenty minutes. Ezra's breathing slowly evened out. His hand, which had been clenched in a fist on his thigh, relaxed.

Suddenly, a metallic screech came from above. The trapdoor in the ceiling opened. A beam of flashlight cut through the red gloom.

"Mr. Gardner? It's maintenance. We have a pulley system."

Ezra opened his eyes. He looked at Hali. His gaze was intense, stripping her bare.

"Ladies first," he said.

He stood up and offered her his hands. He interlaced his fingers to create a step.

"Step on my hands," he said.

Hali hesitated. "Your hands..."

"Do it."

She stepped into his palms. He lifted her effortlessly, his strength surprising her. She reached up and grabbed the edge of the open hatch. The maintenance crew pulled her up.

She scrambled onto the top of the elevator car, then onto the open floor of the 39th level.

She turned back to help Ezra.

He pulled himself up. But as he swung his leg over the edge, his left leg buckled.

He groaned, a low, guttural sound of pain, and collapsed forward.

Hali caught him.

He was heavy, dead weight against her. They slammed into the concrete wall of the maintenance shaft. Ezra's face was buried in her neck, his breathing ragged.

"I've got you," Hali whispered, holding him up.

Ezra pushed himself off her immediately. He leaned against the wall, refusing to put weight on his left leg. His face was gray.

"I'm fine," he gritted out.

"You're not," Hali said. She looked at his leg. Through the fabric of his trousers, she couldn't see anything, but the way he held himself screamed agony.

"We have to take the stairs," the maintenance guy said. "The elevator banks are dead."

Ezra looked at the stairs. It was one flight up to the 40th floor. To him, it looked like Everest.

"Lean on me," Hali said. She stepped under his arm, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Ezra looked down at her. He looked like he wanted to push her away, to maintain his image. But the pain was winning.

He let his weight settle on her.

"Thank you," he whispered.

They walked up the stairs slowly. Step. Breath. Step. Breath.

"Your leg..." Hali asked quietly. "What happened?"

"Old injury," Ezra said, his voice strained. "A lifetime ago."

Hali didn't push. But as his pant leg rode up slightly with a step, she caught a glimpse of his ankle. The skin was twisted, marred by jagged, ugly ridges of scar tissue that looked far worse than any simple break.

They reached the 40th floor. Finley was there, looking as close to panicked as Hali had ever seen him.

"Ezra!" Finley rushed forward, taking Ezra's other side.

"I'm fine," Ezra said, straightening up and pushing them both away. He adjusted his shirt, trying to regain his composure.

"Get Ms. Andrews a new phone," Ezra ordered, not looking at Hali. "The latest model. Restore her cloud data immediately."

"I don't need-" Hali started.

"It's a worker's comp issue," Ezra cut her off. "Do it."

He limped toward his private office on that floor, slamming the door shut.

Hali stood there, covered in dust, her heart aching. Not for her broken phone. But for the look of absolute agony in Ezra's eyes.