Waiting for them all to clear he walked forward to follow them into the elevator and immediately felt his
heart thud through his chest. As though some unearthly force had just conjured her up for him out of
nowhere because he had dared to think it. His eyes met hers as soon as he stepped foot inside. Some
force of nature making sure he connected with her as soon as he had even walked into the damn thing.
She was near the back, behind a bunch of employees and those baby blues met his for a mere second
with all the force of a tidal wave. He couldn’t breathe.
She was wearing her light-gray tailored jacket and pencil skirt from the first time he had ever laid eyes
on her, over a pale-pink silk blouse but with her soft hair still loose, still waves of perfection and a
golden halo around that perfect face. It was all a little too painful to bear after weeks of only conjuring
her up in his head, and he turned as he found a spot to stand, putting her behind him so he could think
about how to handle this. His stomach was churning, a deep painful ache in his chest that made it near
impossible to pretend she wasn’t so close. Every part of him straining and aching to just turn and look
at her, he wanted to hear her voice, see her smile.
She was beautiful, stunning, still his angel.
The elevator stopped, and some men shuffled in and out, he moved further back, still just focusing on
his breathing and scrambling thoughts, staring straight ahead for a little control and wondering what he
should say to her. He wanted to say something, anything, but he was temporarily rendered mute. Her
perfume filling the air around him, he couldn’t move, feet locked to the ground and unable to relax at all.
She was close enough to just reach out and touch if he turned to look at her, but he just couldn’t. It hurt
too damn much and being back with her only highlighted how much he was still crazy in love with her.
He hadn’t moved on in any way at all and this just reminded him of how much his life was completely
fucked without her.
More people moved in at the next stop, and he had to shuffle back, closer to her, her perfume getting
clearer and causing him considerable pain. He could feel her, the heat of her body in the elevator
despite the other people and he was aware of only her and her proximity. He was almost beside her
now, almost shoulder to shoulder save for a gap being forced between them by the man standing just
in front of them, he glanced her way warily. His mind just wanting to look at her again and caught those
beautiful blues as she did the same thing.
Fuck.
It was like a thunderbolt to his heart and when she looked away quickly and stared at the floor, he
couldn’t help the overwhelming need and longing to just step forward and touch her. To lift her chin up
and just stare at her and tell her he wanted her back in his life. He needed her in his life. Instead, he
stared forward at the doors like a coward, trying to rein it all in and losing sight of anyone else in here
apart from her and the sheer agony of this.
Say something to her, stop being an asshole and speak.
The lift chimed, and he saw her move to go, his heart pounding erratically and a mild panic set in at the
thought of her going, of seeing her leave without anything from him. No words, no smiles.
You’re a fucking asshole, Carrero—speak to her!
She had to squeeze past people in front to go, and she brushed against him lightly causing a surge of
electricity and a major pang of longing. It was a brief touch, but it rendered him completely useless.
Looking at her hopelessly and just aching to reach out and pull her against him. His tongue working
loose in a last-ditch effort as she caught his eye momentarily. She was the only girl he had ever met
who could turn him to mush with just a look at those perfect almond eyes that turned his knees weak.
“Miss Anderson,” he said quietly and politely, trying for a smile that was genuine and just feeling like he
was stiff and disconnected. Her beauty floored him, her eyes meeting his had made him unable to
function, and her perfume would stay in his head for eternity at this rate.
I love you, bambino, and I fucking miss you so much that I can’t bear this.
“Mr. Carrero.” She breathed back, no smile, no emotion just a cold tone and obviously still hurt over his
betrayal. He couldn’t blame her, she had been his right hand, and he had severed it and sent her off to
work in a place he knew she probably would have hated. They had crossed a line by having sex, but it
had been the best moment of his life, one night that would haunt him forever and he never wanted to
lose the memory of what she felt like. He wanted to replay it for an eternity and would never regret
being with her.
To her though, he had done what he always did, he had fucked her and disposed of her. As much as it
pained him to have her think that way he knew it was for the best, for both of them.
He had hurt her, cut her off, and disconnected from her in the worst possible way for his own sanity,
and looking at the cool way she hurriedly walked out of the elevator without a backward glance he,
knew he deserved her icing him out. He had been a shithead and a coward and sent her away rather
than keep going through the torture of being around her. He just wished that seeing her again wasn’t
like a stake being driven through his heart over and over and he slumped against the back wall as the
doors closed on the most beautiful view he had ever seen.
Back to reality, Carrero. You never fucking had her. You never deserved her.
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