Chapter 2 Love in mini bloom

CHAPTER TWO

He shuddered against her touch. "Can't... the walls... they're..."

"You're safe," she said firmly. "I've got you. The space isn't getting smaller—your brain is just playing tricks. Focus on my voice."

His breathing was ragged, but slowly, it began to sync with hers. His scent filled her nostrils—expensive cologne with notes of citrus and cedar, mixed with something darker. Fear sweat. Vulnerability.

They slid to the floor together, her dress riding up, his shirt wrinkled. She handed him her water bottle.

"Drink," she commanded.

He drained half of it, then paused to look at her. "Selfish much?"

Despite everything, she snorted. "Says the man who was practically eye-fucking me in the lobby."

A beat of stunned silence. Then twin snorts of laughter, the kind that borders on hysteria but feels like salvation.

"How long?" she asked when they'd sobered.

"Two hours minimum," Greyson admitted. "Building's old. We're low on the list."

Cassie kicked off her heels with a sigh. "Well, there goes Tony's. Jake is going to be thrilled."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Nothing I can't handle." She rummaged for her lip balm. "Your turn. Why the elevator phobia?"

He stiffened. "None of your business, princess."

"Fine." She applied the balm slowly. "But for future reference? Women don't bolt because you have some mysterious tragic backstory. They bolt because you're emotionally constipated and too proud to admit you're human."

The lights flared back to life with shocking suddenness. The elevator lurched upward. Cassie stumbled forward. Greyson's hand shot out to steady her, palm pressed against palm, fingers interlacing. Electricity arced between them, white-hot and undeniable. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the point where their skin touched.

His thumb brushed across her knuckle—the spot where her engagement ring should have been.

Cassie yanked her hand back, her eyes frantically scanning the floor. There, her diamond solitaire glittered in his other palm.

"Yours?" His voice was rough.

She snatched the ring. "None of your business." She slipped it back onto her finger, and the familiar weight suddenly felt suffocating. The elevator dinged cheerfully as the doors opened to frantic building staff.

Greyson stood smoothly, the consummate professional again. "Miss Hunter? Shall we proceed with your property viewing?"

Cassie gathered her scattered belongings, shoving everything back into her bag with hands that trembled. The ring caught on her dress as she stood, a reminder of promises made.

"Lead the way," she said, proud that her voice stayed steady.

As they walked toward the parking garage, she couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted in that dark, small space. Something that had nothing to do with real estate and everything to do with the way Greyson Christianson looked at her—like he could see straight through to her soul.

Something Jake Turner, her fiancé, hadn't done.