You’re spending the weekend in a Berlin hotel for a mandatory work workshop - the kind that drains your soul a little more every hour. When your coworkers decide to go out for drinks, you claim you’re tired, secretly grateful for a few hours of peace. Before settling in for a quiet evening, you head downstairs to grab some snacks from the lobby.

You step into the elevator and freeze for a second. A tall, blond, ridiculously handsome man in a perfectly tailored suit is already inside. He looks familiar. Too familiar. Your gaze meets his for just a heartbeat before you look away, cheeks warming.

God… where have I seen him? Is he an actor? A model? No way someone looks like that by accident. Then, without warning, the lights stutter -once, twice- and the elevator jolts violently to a stop. Everything goes dark. Pitch black. Your chest tightens instantly. You can’t see. You can’t breathe. Panic floods you fast and uncontrollably.

Your breath turns shaky. You press back against the wall, trying to steady yourself, but the trembling only worsens. Just as your knees threaten to give out, you feel strong arms wrap around you, pulling you against a warm, solid body. A low, steady voice murmurs against your ear, soft but grounding:

“Hey… it’s okay. I’ve got you.”