Speak of the Devil

Standing stiffly by the expansive office window, Celine looked down at the concrete pavement near the main entrance. Trent was down there, waiting on the sidewalk. He clutched a pathetic bouquet of mixed flowers against his chest, checking his watch every few seconds. A visceral wave of disgust churned in her stomach. The charade made her skin crawl. She knew exactly what game he was playing. He was trying to secure a politically advantageous, wealthy marriage with Aubrey. Aubrey’s parents held significant leverage in the city government, and Trent’s father—the owner of Belgrave’s largest car dealership—wanted to monopolize the local shipping contracts by marrying his son into the Dalton family. While Trent played the devoted suitor to Aubrey’s wealthy background, he desperately attempted to keep Celine on the side as his oblivious girlfriend.

She had zero intentions of going down there to meet him.

Turning her back on the glass, she walked toward the elevator banks to execute her exit strategy. The corporate floor was mostly empty, the silence punctuated only by the hum of the ventilation system. She slipped her wireless earbuds into her ears and tapped the screen to answer Trent’s incoming call.

"Okay, babe, you go ahead and I'll meet you there. I'll be on time, don't worry." She pitched her voice into a sweet, fake register, letting the lie roll off her tongue with practiced ease.

Thinking she stood alone in the quiet hallway, she let her guard down. She toggled the call over to her friend on the line, letting her true frustration bleed into her tone.

"Yeah, you know, Mr. Sterling is a literal bloodsucker..."

The brushed steel doors chimed and parted.

Celine glanced up. The blood froze in her veins.

Vance stood inside the newly opened elevator. His dark, unreadable expression pinned her in place. He wore a tailored black suit that emphasized the broad span of his shoulders, his presence dominating the confined space. Beside him, Nolan held a hand against the door sensor, his eyes wide with a horrified stare that screamed she was a dead woman walking.

Panic seized her throat. Celine hit the end call button on her phone. She stepped inside the metal box, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor, wishing the ground would crack open and swallow her whole.

"Mr. Sterling." She kept her gaze glued to the polished metal doors.

Vance gave a curt nod. The suffocating silence filled the small space, thick enough to choke on. She could feel his gaze burning into the side of her head.

"Are you heading out on a date?" Vance asked. His voice cut through the heavy tension, smooth and devoid of any readable emotion.

"No, I'm gonna go teach a friend a lesson." Celine blurted out the defensive response, refusing to meet his intense gaze.

"Need any help?" He did not sound surprised by her answer.

"Not at the moment." She forced a tight, polite smile.

The elevator descended smoothly before stopping with a loud chime at the marketing floor. The doors slid open, revealing a loud, obnoxious crowd of employees holding coffee cups and chatting over each other. They poured into the cabin, squeezing into the limited space with zero regard for personal boundaries. The marketing team was notorious for their boisterous energy, and they brought all of it into the tight metal box, filling the air with a mix of cheap perfume and stale espresso.

"Move over, I don't have any room." Someone shoved backward from the front, compressing the crowd even further.

Pressed tight against the back wall, Celine gasped. A heavy, warm arm wrapped directly around her waist. Body heat radiated through her thin blouse. Vance pulled her flush against his hard chest to protect her from the crush of bodies. Her face smashed into his lapel. She breathed in the sharp, clean scent of his cologne mixed with pure masculine heat. The hard lines of his chest pressed against her front, offering a solid shield against the shifting crowd. The fabric of his black suit jacket scraped against her cheek. She instantly knew her foundation was leaving a faint, unmistakable streak on the expensive wool.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as the elevator descended the final floors. The sheer proximity to the CEO sent a jolt of nervous energy straight down her spine. She could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against her shoulder, a stark contrast to the chaotic jostling of the employees around them. The crowd thinned out in a rush the moment they reached the ground floor. Vance let go of her waist quickly, stepping back to his original position as if nothing had happened.

Celine's face burned. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire, especially as the departing PR staff lingered near the open doors.

"Did you see those hickeys on Mr. Sterling's neck?" A woman whispered, lacking any sense of shame.

"I heard Mr. Sterling had breakfast with someone this morning. Judging by those love bites, it's definitely a woman!"

The gossip echoed right in front of them before the staff scattered into the bustling lobby.

Celine stared straight ahead, desperate to escape the mortifying situation. She prepared to bolt for the exit, but as she looked out past the lobby reception, she spotted Trent. He was waiting right by the entrance doors, pacing with those cheap flowers, scanning the crowd for her face.

Desperate to avoid the two-timing bastard at all costs, Celine shrank back into the corner of the elevator. She pressed her spine against the metal paneling, praying Trent had not seen her.

"You getting out?" Nolan asked, watching her erratic movements with a knowing gleam in his eye.

"I left something important upstairs. You guys go ahead. I'll head back up in a sec." Celine lied through her teeth.

Vance glanced at her. He did not say a word as he and Nolan stepped out into the lobby.

The moment the doors slid shut, Celine let out a massive, shaky breath. She rode the empty metal box back up to the twenty-eighth floor. Stepping out onto the quiet design floor, she walked straight back to her desk. Her phone vibrated on the wood. Trent's name flashed across the screen, accompanied by a picture of him smiling on a beach from last summer. Celine ignored the incoming calls. She tossed the phone face-down and booted up her laptop. A cold smile touched her lips. She happily pictured Trent standing outside the corporate building, getting stood up and humiliated in public while Aubrey bombarded him with frantic texts. The revenge tasted sweet, washing away the lingering anxiety from the elevator encounter.

She grabbed her stylus and lost herself in her design work. The open-plan office sat dead and silent around her. She sketched, adjusted lines, and perfected the rendering, pouring all her nervous energy into the project. The rhythmic click of her mouse and the soft scratch of the stylus became her only companions.

When she finally stretched her stiff shoulders and checked the time, it was ten-thirty at night.

Celine packed up her bag and emerged from the quiet office. She walked down the hallway and pressed the elevator call button. Nothing happened. Both digital displays above the heavy metal doors were dark.

She pulled up the company messaging app on her phone. A facilities notice sat in her inbox. Routine elevator maintenance was scheduled from ten at night until six in the morning.

She stared at the dark metal doors. She was trapped on the twenty-eighth floor.

Forced to take the eerie emergency stairs, she walked over to the heavy fire door. She pulled it open, staring down into the echoing, concrete stairwell. The air felt stale and heavy, lacking the conditioned breeze of the main office. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long, uninviting shadows down the winding steps. She snapped a quick picture of the dark, imposing descent for her Instagram story.

*Trapped at work. Wish me luck.* She typed out the caption, hit post, and gripped the cold metal handrail.

She braved the creepy stairwell, taking her first step down.

Just two steps down, a sudden, piercing ringtone shattered the silence. The shrill noise startled her so badly she jumped. Her phone slipped from her trembling grasp.

The device tumbled down the concrete stairs. It smacked against the hard edges, flipping end over end before hitting the landing below. The screen shattered with a sharp crack, and the phone went dead.

The sudden loss of the backlight plunged her into total darkness. Pure panic set in. Her ragged breathing filled the empty space as she gripped the handrail tight. The stairwell felt like a tomb, the shadows pressing in on her from all sides. Every horror movie she had ever watched flashed through her mind, amplifying the silence until it roared in her ears.

Then, a sound echoed from the stairs above her.

*Thud. Thud.*

The heavy, deliberate sound of expensive dress shoes striking the concrete.

"Who's there?" Celine asked, her voice trembling. She pressed herself flat against the cold wall, her heart hammering against her ribs.

The motion sensor light on the upper landing flickered to life, casting a weak, yellow glow over the top stairs. A tall, broad silhouette appeared on the landing above. The man was backlit by the faint light, casting a long shadow that stretched down the steps to touch her feet.

"Me. The bloodsucker boss." Vance's low voice floated down through the dark.

Before she could even attempt to recover from the shock of his presence, he spoke again. She could practically hear the dark smirk in the pitch black.

"Vampires usually hunt at night, don't they?"

Relief mixed with a fresh wave of dread. Her chest heaved as she stared up at his imposing figure. He had heard her. He had heard every single word she said on the phone earlier. The mortification from the elevator rushed back, amplified by the claustrophobic darkness of the stairwell.

"Mr. Sterling. I'm just going home." Celine stubbornly insisted. She peeled herself off the concrete wall and took another step down into the gloom.

Vance let out a soft, mocking sigh.

"The first floor's locked. You can't get out." His smooth statement stopped her in her tracks.

He turned his back, preparing to head up the stairs. "Elevator maintenance usually takes one to two hours. If you don't mind, come up and have some coffee."

Celine stared down into the pitch-black void below. The silence was deafening. The thought of navigating twenty-eight flights of stairs in total darkness with no working flashlight and a locked door at the bottom made her stomach churn. The vulnerability of being trapped alone in the building washed over her.

With a sinking heart, she realized she had no other choice.

She turned around and quietly followed his commanding presence up the stairs. The sound of his steady footsteps guided her through the dim emergency well. The climb felt surreal, her legs burning slightly as they ascended the steep concrete steps. They climbed past her floor, leaving the familiar territory of the design department behind, ascending straight to the executive penthouse level.

They reached the thirtieth floor. The air up here felt different, heavier. Celine watched helplessly as Vance pulled a sleek black card from his pocket. He swiped his VIP keycard over the security panel beside the heavy fire escape door. The mechanism clicked, echoing loudly in the quiet space, sealing her fate for the rest of the night.