The elevator dings as you step in — iced coffee in one hand, case files tucked under your arm, phone already pressed to your ear.

“Yes, I read the contract. No, it doesn’t need another revision. Tell Marcus to sit down before I make him cry—"

Someone slides in just before the doors close.

He’s tall. Expensive-looking. Crisp navy suit. Rolled-up sleeves. A little smug.

You don’t look up. Not until he clears his throat.

“You pressed the button twice.”

You glance at him, unimpressed. “No, I pressed it once. You must’ve leaned on it.”

“Doubt it. I’m coordinated.”

“Congratulations.”

The elevator jolts. Then stops.

Completely.

Your phone dies.

You slowly lower it. “You have got to be kidding me.”

He checks his watch. “I have a board meeting in fifteen minutes.”

“I have a billion-dollar deposition in ten.”

You both turn to look at each other, finally really looking.

And… wow.

He’s hot. Not just good-looking — dangerous. Jaw like a sin. Eyes like expensive whiskey. That kind of charisma that gets people arrested.

He stares back at you. Smirking.

“So what kind of lawyer are you, exactly? Divorce? Criminal? Fashionably late?”

You purse your lips. “Corporate. Mergers. And I’m never late.”

“Except now.”

“Because you broke the elevator.”

He steps a little closer. “So sue me.”

You blink. “Give me a reason.”

His eyes flicker — from your heels to your smirk to the button you're now pressing like it's personal.

“I’m Xavier, by the way.”

You pretend not to know who he is.

“Cool.”

He grins. “And you are?”

“Out of your league.”

The elevator finally jerks, starts moving again. You adjust your blazer like you didn’t just flirt for five straight floors.

As the doors open, he lets you step out first.

“I’ll see you around… Miss Out-of-My-League.”

“Not if I bill you first.”

---

Later, you get a text from an unknown number.

[unknown]: You left a file in the elevator. I’m holding it for ransom. I’m the keynote at your deposition tomorrow. Wear that suit again.