Chapter 2 Not a Disney Princess 2.2

By the time dawn rolled around, Emma had assembled a list so thorough, it could have been mistaken for an FBI dossier. Names of guys from Instagram, Facebook, her phone contacts-each one scrutinized like she was running background checks for the CIA. Some she knew through family connections, others were friends of friends, or, in some cases, just that cute guy who liked all her vacation photos.

She had already crossed out the ones who didn't meet her stringent requirements: too short, too tall, questionable use of emoji's, suspiciously attached to their gym selfies. The checklist was brutal, but hey, this was a serious business.

As she closed her laptop, exhausted but satisfied, she realized she might need to expand her search to the office. Why not? As long as it didn't fall into that dreaded "conflict of interest" zone.

Emma worked at one of the biggest financial firms in the country. Third Officer in charge of the Marketing and Advertising Section, she was a force to be reckoned with.

Mondays, however, were like a horror movie in her department-chaotic, stressful, and always full of surprises. This particular Monday? Well, it was the plot twist nobody asked for.

Emma was running late. Late!

The one thing she prided herself on was punctuality, and today it was as elusive as a Pikachu of Pokémon. Blame it on staying up half the night crafting the world's most detailed sperm-list. Sure, the list was organized, but her morning? Absolute chaos.

She overslept, naturally. No time to shower-just a quick corporate transformation:

blazer on, hair brushed, and toothbrush hastily shoved into her mouth mid-sprint. She looked like she was auditioning for a role as a multitasking superhero. Then came the drive, where she channeled her inner "Fast and

Furious" action star, parking her car like she had five seconds before the credits rolled. If there were awards for reckless efficiency, she'd definitely be a nominee.

She dashed towards the elevator, her disheveled hair bouncing with the sort of urgency that said, -Yes, I overslept, but I'm still trying!

The elevator doors closed just as she reached them. Classic Monday. But then, miraculously, they opened again, revealing a guy in casual, ragged jeans.

"Jeans? In this building?" Emma blinked.

She flashed him a wide, slightly frazzled smile. "Thanks," she panted.

The guy just grinned back and gestured toward the buttons. "You might want to actually get in the elevator."

Right. Focus, Emma. She joined him inside and quickly hit her floor button. No one else seemed to be around at this hour. A rare

occurrence, but also a blessing. Less witnesses to her current state of chaos.

Emma glanced to the guy in front of her. Tall. Check. Dark and handsome. Double check. In fact, he ticked a lot of her internal boxes: good looks, seemingly good genes, but with an air of nonchalance. But seriously, who wore ragged jeans in a corporate building Did Casual Friday become Casual Monday?

Unbeknownst to her, the guy was also watching her through the reflective elevator doors.

"You work here?" he asked, breaking the

silence.

Emma blinked, a bit surprised. "Uh, yeah, you?"

The guy let out a chuckle, one of those deep, knowing laughs that suggested he was in on some cosmic joke. "Nope. And I never will."

Emma raised an eyebrow, about to ask for details when suddenly, the lights flickered, and the elevator jerked to a stop. They were

plunged into darkness.

Both stared at each other, wide-eyed. The floor gave a little tremble.

Earthquake. Of course, because nothing said

"Monday" quite like being stuck in a metal box during a natural disaster!

The guy chuckled again, his voice echoing in the dim space. "Yeah... definitely never working here."

Emma, on the other hand, was gripping his arm like her life depended on it-because, in

her mind, it did. She was petrified. Elevators high above the ground during an earthquake? That was basically her worst nightmare wrapped in a metal box. The

guy looked at her, trying to catch a glimpse of her face in the dim, flickering light.

"Hey..." he said, his voice calm, like they weren't potentially plummeting to their doom.

Emma didn't respond. She just kept clutching his arm, her fingers icy cold, like she'd just grabbed a handful of snow. Instinctively, he took her hand, hoping to soothe her nerves.

" Hey...There's nothing to worry about, I'm right here. Besides, we're in a building owned by one of the top financial firms in the country. You know they didn't skimp on safety. If we fall, we'll just sue them and get filthy rich."

Emma,despite the terror, couldn't help but chuckle. "That's if we survive the fall," she

muttered.

They both laughed, a little hysterically, but laughed nonetheless. Just then, the shaking

stopped, and the emergency lights flickered on.

"Well," he said, "looks like we'll just have to wait for either the cavalry or for this thing to start moving again."

As they waited, conversation flowed. Emma found herself ranting about her family's

insistence she settle down by 28-as if that was some sort of expiration date. And work? It was a never-ending cycle of corporate monotony. She just wanted to live her life, dammit.

He listened intently, watching every expression that crossed her face, clearly enjoying her company. It was like an impromptu therapy session, minus the couch and plus a potential deathtrap.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably more like ten minutes, the elevator

doors creaked open-on Emma's floor, no less.

"Sir,Ma'am, are you okay?" the elevator technician asked, looking relieved.

Both nodded. The guy nudged Emma with a grin. "Now you've got the perfect excuse for

being late."

Emma smiled back and was about to ask his name when he turned to the tech. "So, can this thing still be used? I'm headed to the penthouse."

Emma blinked. Penthouse?

What was a guy in ragged jeans doing heading to the penthouse? Maybe he was a

maintenance worker or a tech guy fixing someone's Wi-Fi?

The technician pressed a few buttons and gave him a thumbs up. "All good to go."

Before stepping back into the elevator, he reached out, touched Emma's arm, and smiled. "Bye for now, Emma."

Emma's jaw dropped. Wait-how did he

know my name?

He grinned at her before saying "It's me, William"

And with that, the elevator doors slid shut, leaving Emma standing there, dumbfounded. "William? "They hadn't exchanged names. She blinked twice, wondering how on earth she'd just spent the last ten minutes trapped in an elevator with a mysterious, smooth-talking-stranger-named William-who-knew-her name and headed for the penthouse?