Monday mornings were always a mess, but this one was on a different level.
"Excuse me! Hold the elevator!" Elira shouted, heels clicking wildly against the marble floor as she sprinted through the lobby.
The elevator doors were almost closed when a hand—hers—slammed against them just in time. They slid open again, and she stumbled inside, clutching her now half-spilled iced coffee.
And there he was.
Alone in the elevator, standing still as a statue.
A tall man in a tailored black suit. Perfectly combed hair. A face sculpted like it belonged on the cover of Forbes. Sharp jawline, unreadable eyes, and a kind of stillness that demanded silence.
Elira's breath caught, but she forced a smile anyway. "Morning!"
He didn't respond. Didn't even blink.
Okay… Rude.
She glanced at him again. He looked familiar. Almost too familiar.
Then she saw it—Wolfe Corp's logo pinned neatly on his lapel.
Wait. No. It couldn't be…
She adjusted her blazer, trying to act natural, only to accidentally tip her coffee again—this time right onto his polished Italian leather shoes.
Time slowed.
Elira gasped. "Oh my God, I'm so, so sorry!"
Still silent, the man glanced down, then slowly back up at her. His expression didn't change—not anger, not irritation. Just cold detachment.
He pulled out a silk handkerchief from his inner pocket and dabbed at his shoe like it was routine—like spills, apologies, and chaos were beneath him.
Elira scrambled for words. "It's just... I was late. And the coffee shop took forever and—"
"What floor?" he interrupted, voice low, commanding.
"Uh… twenty-one. Marketing."
He didn't press any button.
Instead, the elevator kept rising, past her floor, higher and higher.
She stared at the control panel. No buttons were lit up. No music played.
Just silence.
Awkward, expensive silence.
Then the doors opened.
Three men in sharp suits stood outside, bowing slightly. "Mr. Kian, the board is waiting."
Elira froze.
Mr. Kian?
Kian Wolfe.
The billionaire. The youngest tech CEO in the country. Ruthless, rich, reclusive.
And she just baptized his shoes with caramel latte.
He stepped out but turned back slightly, locking eyes with her.
"You're in the wrong elevator," he said quietly.
Then he was gone.
Elira stood frozen as the doors slid shut again, taking her back down to where she belonged.
Wrong elevator.
Wrong morning.
But somehow… it felt like the start of something very, very right.