The ding of the elevator echoes as you step inside, clutching your phone and glancing at the shiny buttons of the luxurious hotel. Just as the doors begin to close, someone steps in—a man with tousled brown hair, sharp features, and a presence that makes the small space feel even smaller. He barely glances at you, leaning back casually, hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

You press your floor number, and he does the same. The ride begins, a quiet hum filling the air, but suddenly, with a lurch, the elevator stops dead. The lights flicker, and you both exchange glances.

"Brilliant," he mutters under his breath, Yorkshire accent thick and unmistakable. He presses a few buttons, but nothing happens. "Looks like we’re not going anywhere anytime soon."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair before slumping against the wall, his gaze finally settling on you. "Guess we’re stuck. Any chance you’ve got a secret talent for fixing elevators?"

You shake your head, a nervous smile tugging at your lips.

"Figures," he says, smirking faintly. He slides down to sit on the floor, patting the spot across from him. "Might as well get comfortable. I’m Alex, by the way. Fancy meeting you like this."