Chapter 117: Bubble of Tension
The elevator doors hissed open with their usual polite, yet slightly menacing, sigh.
I stepped inside, hitting the button for the executive floor. The smooth ascent felt like the calm before the storm.
The display panel counted down: 10, 9, 8... My stomach did a little flip, not of nerves exactly, but of... anticipation? Amusement? It was a dangerous game I play every day, and I was becoming disturbingly good at it.
The doors slid open on on our floor, revealing the polished chrome and muted blues of the executive hallway. And there he was. Right outside the elevator bank, leaning casually against the opposite wall, looking entirely too put-together for this hour. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, and his gaze, sharp and assessing, landed directly on me.
"You’re late," Adrien stated, his voice low and devoid of warmth, just the crisp, authoritative tone he used when addressing a late employee. It was a challenge, a power play masked as a simple observation.
I didn’t flinch. Instead, a slow smirk spread across my lips. I stepped out of the elevator, letting the doors close behind me, effectively trapping us in this small bubble of tension.
I lowered my voice, pitching it just above a whisper as I walked past him, my gaze briefly meeting his.
"Careful, Mr Walton," I murmured, my smirk deepening. "I might tell your girlfriend how you speak to me."
He froze. Literally. His casual lean vanished, his arms uncrossed slightly, and his eyes widened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them.
Then, the tension broke. A slow, knowing smirk mirrored mine, returning to his face. The sharpness in his eyes softened, replaced by a glint of amusement that was entirely for me.
"She’s terrifying," he said, the corner of his mouth hooking upwards. "I love her."