One Midnight Kiss: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Holiday Romance
One Midnight Kiss: Chapter 21

I pressed the emergency stop button. The elevator lurched to a halt, making her grip the railing to steady herself. She shot me a look that could’ve frozen lava.

“Is this your thing?” she snapped, her voice cutting. “Trapping women in elevators?”

“Just you,” I shot back, then turned to face her fully, leaning a hand against the wall next to her head. “I talked to Wilder. I asked what happened. I know. At least I know parts of it.”

“Parts of what?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Your marriage,” I said. “Your ex.”

Her eyes widened for a split second before narrowing into dark slits. “You what?”

“I asked,” I repeated, slower this time. “I needed to know why you’re so angry and closed off. Is that why you’re so pissed off about me calling you my fiancée? It’s not just because it was a surprise, is it?”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“He married her, didn’t he?” I leaned in. I stared her down, crowding her space. I had seen the flicker of pain she tried to hide every time something touched that wound she kept bandaged up tight. “He used your trust fund for their wedding, right? That’s what happened.”

Her face paled. She looked away, chin tilted defiantly, refusing to give me the satisfaction of seeing her crack. But I wasn’t done. Not yet.

“You let him have it all,” I ground out, teeth clenched. “Why?”

Her breath hitched. “I just wanted it to be done. I couldn’t handle it.” She looked back at me, her eyes glassy with a mixture of fury and something softer, something fragile. “I needed to leave.”

“You ran away when it got tough,” I accused, voice rough with a frustration I couldn’t mask, or maybe didn’t want to. It just didn’t make sense to me. She was a fighter, but she let him win.

“That’s not what happened,” she bit out, voice trembling. It sounded like she was holding back a scream or tears. I couldn’t tell which, but I wanted to find out. “Why do you care, anyway?”

I stepped closer, feeling the electric tension pull us like magnets. “Is it not obvious?” I rasped, my voice low and heated.

She opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off.

“I looked him up,” I told her. “Andrew. I found him.” Her expression faltered, shock seeping through the cracks. “Do you have any idea what it’s like for me to think about what he did to you? Every time I do, I want to track him down and teach him a lesson he’ll never forget.”

She shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” I said. I could barely stand the thought of it, but the image was always there—me, grabbing that smug bastard by the collar, wiping that arrogant smile off his face. “I think about it all the time, Natalia. I could make his life hell in so many ways.”

“Stop it,” she said, holding up her palm.

She ducked under my arm and slapped her hand against the button. The elevator jolted, starting to move again. She looked trapped and uncomfortable. She wanted out, but I wasn’t going to quit.

She tried to turn away from me, but I stepped in front of her, blocking her path. A couple joined us on the next floor, their cheerful chatter filling the space, but I didn’t take my eyes off her. Her face was a mask of calm, but her fingers fidgeted, clenching and unclenching around the strap of her purse.

If the couple noticed the tension, they said nothing. It was a very awkward thirty seconds. The couple stepped off two floors later. The moment the doors shut, I pressed the button for our floor and turned back to her.

“I’ve been trying to figure that out since the moment I met you,” I told her. “What makes you tick? I’m obsessed with it. I want to get under your skin and figure you out, picking you apart until I do. I am obsessed with the idea of you, Natalia. I want to pull you apart and piece you back together until I do.”

She sucked in a breath, her chest rising sharply. “You don’t know me.”

“Not yet,” I conceded, stepping closer until there was only an inch between us, my hand brushing against hers. “But I want to. I need to.”

She was trembling now, visibly. Whether it was from anger or something else, I wasn’t sure. Her lips parted, but no words came. I took that as permission. I leaned in, so close that I could feel her breath on my lips, warm and shallow.

“I know you feel it too,” I whispered.

Her pupils dilated. Desire burned in her eyes. I knew she wanted this. She was just too afraid to take it. Too afraid to give in to what her body was begging for. There was no way she didn’t feel the pull. I could feel her need for me radiating off her in powerful waves.

I pressed the “hold” button, freezing the elevator doors open.

I lifted my hand and cupped her jaw. I stared into her eyes for another second, trying to talk myself out of what was coming. But there was no stopping this train. I slowly, carefully, kissed her.

For a moment, she didn’t kiss me back. Her lips stayed in a hard, thin line. I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe I had misread all the signs. Maybe she didn’t want this.

I pulled back, brushing my lips against her cheek as I murmured. “Maybe you don’t feel it too.”

I let go and pushed the button to start the elevator once again. I kept my back to her. I felt hollow and defeated. It wasn’t the rejection. I couldn’t give a shit about that. It was the disappointment, the feeling of losing something I hadn’t even had yet. As the elevator hummed quietly, taking us to our floor, I balled my fists at my sides, struggling to swallow down the lump in my throat.

I could hear her breathing behind me, but I refused to look at her. I couldn’t. It was my luck the one woman I truly wanted didn’t want me. I never had a problem attracting women. It was easy and it wasn’t a secret I had gone through plenty of single women in Seattle.

But Natalia wasn’t like any of them.

Maybe she was too good for me. Hell, there was no maybe. She was.

The elevator bounced to a stop. The soft ding like a death knell on any hopes I had of being with someone like her.

But before I could step out, I felt her hand grip my arm, tugging me back. I turned to find her looking up at me, eyes full of confusion and something else—surrender, maybe, or hope.

The way she looked at me twisted me up. I couldn’t keep doing this with her. I couldn’t be pulled in and then pushed away. I wasn’t that strong.

“Natalia,” I breathed, stepping back into the elevator. She didn’t say anything, just looked up at me like she was seeing me for the first time. I backed her up against the wall, pressing her against it with my body. Her breath came out in a sharp exhale as I leaned down, kissing her again. This time, she kissed me back, her lips softening, parting. I felt her melt into me, her hands clutching the front of my shirt.

It was like setting a match to gasoline. Heat flared between us, hot and consuming. I heard the doors sliding closed and quickly reached out to stop them. I took her hand in mine and pulled her out of the elevator. This time, I knew what was going to happen. That kiss told me more than her words could.

I pulled her down the hallway, reaching into my pocket to get the key card. It took me a few tries, but I managed to get the door open. I pulled her inside, slamming the door shut behind us before I pushed her up against the wall once again. My mouth was on hers, kissing her like my very life depended on it. I dropped the key card on the floor. I needed both hands free to touch her. I wanted to explore every inch of her body.

She broke the kiss, her eyes darting around the room like she needed a moment to gather herself. I didn’t give her one. I took her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me.

“You drive me insane,” I told her, my voice rough. “You make me feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Good,” she said, voice breathless but edged with defiance. “Now you know how I feel.”

I smiled. “Then we’re on the same page.”

She rolled her eyes, but I caught the flicker of a smile before she tried to hide it. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, running my thumb over her bottom lip. “But you like it.”

“Do I?” she challenged.

I kissed her again before she could protest, swallowing the laugh that bubbled up from her chest. I pulled her closer, feeling the curve of her body press against mine. It felt too good, too right. I could feel every ounce of her frustration, her anger, her want. It matched mine, pulse for pulse.