Chapter 71: The Elevator Ride

Kristoff left the grand ballroom with Charlotte clinging to his arm.

The sounds of music and conversation gradually faded behind them as they crossed the marble foyer toward the bank of elevators.

Charlotte continued talking, venting her frustration and humiliation, but Kristoff barely heard a word.

His thoughts were elsewhere.

On a woman soaked with wine in her green dress.

On the concern that had flashed across Morgan’s face.

On the jacket now draped over her shoulders.

The irritation in his chest only grew.

When they reached the elevators, several doors were opening and closing as guests came and went.

Then something caught his eye.

One particular elevator. The doors were already sliding shut. And through the narrowing gap, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure.

His heartbeat kicked. Without thinking, he broke into a stride.

"Wait!"

The command rang through the foyer.

Inside the elevator, Isobel froze. She would recognize that voice anywhere. The doors, which had been inches from closing completely, slid open again.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Kristoff stood outside the elevator, his chest rising and falling slightly from his hurried pace.

Inside, Isobel stood alone. Morgan’s suit jacket hung loosely over her shoulders, the dark fabric swallowing her slender frame.

A few damp strands of hair clung to her neck, evidence of the accident downstairs. The sight hit Kristoff harder than it should have.

Because for one irrational moment, all he could see was another man’s jacket wrapped around his ex-lover.

And he hated it. ℯℯ𝘭.

Their eyes locked. The air between them suddenly felt far too small. Far too charged.

Neither of them noticed Charlotte standing a few steps behind, her expression slowly turning ugly.

...

Kristoff stepped into the elevator just as the doors began to close.

"Kristoff, wait for me!"

Charlotte’s distressed cry snapped him out of his thoughts. For a moment, he had completely forgotten she was there.

His hand shot out, stopping the doors from closing. Charlotte hurried inside, breathing slightly harder from her rush.

Only after she entered did Kristoff release the button.

Almost instinctively, he positioned himself between the two women.

The elevator doors slid shut. Silence descended.

One entire wall of the elevator was made of polished mirror, forcing all three of them to face not only each other but also their reflections.

Isobel stood quietly in one corner. Charlotte stood beside Kristoff. And Kristoff... His gaze remained fixed on the mirror.

More specifically, on the dark suit jacket draped over Isobel’s shoulders.

Morgan’s jacket.

The sight irritated him far more than it should have.

The expensive fabric hung loosely around her frame, making it painfully obvious that it belonged to another man.

A man who had rushed to her side. A man who had wrapped his coat around her. A man who seemed entirely too interested in her.

That should have been him.

The silence grew heavier.

Finally, Charlotte smiled sweetly.

The expression never quite reached her eyes.

"So tell me, Miss Lancey," she began casually, "is Morgan really just your boss?"

Her gaze drifted deliberately to the jacket.

"Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look that way."

Isobel’s fingers tightened slightly around the lapel. She could feel Kristoff’s eyes on her.

Not directly. Through the mirror. He was watching.

For some reason, that made her strangely uncomfortable.

"Mr. Foster is a gentleman," she replied evenly. "Anyone in my situation would have received the same kindness."

"Really?" Charlotte laughed softly. "I don’t think so."

Her eyes gleamed.

"The way he looked at you ..." She tilted her head. "It reminded me of those star-crossed lovers in romance novels."

The temperature inside the elevator seemed to drop several degrees.

In the mirror, Isobel saw Kristoff’s jaw tighten. His gaze darkened.

For one brief second, she thought she saw something dangerous flicker across his face.

Jealousy!

The realization startled her. Then it vanished.

Kristoff swallowed hard.

His eyes remained locked on her reflection as he waited for her response.

Before Isobel could speak, his voice cut through the elevator.

"That’s enough, Charlotte."

The words were sharp and cold. The small space echoed with them.

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Never—not once—had Kristoff spoken to her in that tone. But because of another woman, he did.

Humiliation burned through her chest.

Slowly, she lowered her gaze.

"Sorry," she muttered.

But behind her lowered lashes, resentment boiled.

Her nails dug into her palms.

And as the elevator continued its ascent, she shot a venomous look toward Isobel’s reflection in the mirror.

Just you wait.

The silent promise echoed in her mind.

This isn’t over.

...

Isobel fixed her gaze on the glowing display above the elevator doors.

The numbers seemed to crawl upward.

The confined space felt increasingly suffocating. On one side was Charlotte’s undisguised hostility. On the other was Kristoff’s intense gaze.

Even without looking at him, she could feel it. The heavy, persistent and unsettling gaze.

The silence stretched until it became unbearable.

Finally, Kristoff cleared his throat.

The sound was oddly awkward coming from a man who was usually so composed.

"You did well up there."

Isobel blinked.

"You sang beautifully," he continued. "I didn’t know you could sing like that."

For a moment, she simply stared at the elevator doors.

A bitter laugh echoed inside her mind.

Of course you didn’t. There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.

The words pressed against her lips. But in the end, she swallowed them. What was the point?

Instead, she merely nodded.

"Thank you."

Then she offered him a polite smile. Nothing more.

There was no warmth, no pleasure at receiving his praise.

Just polite a polite indifference. Something dark flashed across Kristoff’s face. The distance between them irritated him far more than it should have, especially after watching her smile so naturally at Morgan downstairs.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

Isobel stiffened. Charlotte froze.

The elevator suddenly felt much smaller.

"Why are you standing all the way over there?" Kristoff demanded. His voice was low, but irritation simmered beneath it.

"You’ve been pressing yourself into that corner since I stepped inside."

His fingers tightened unconsciously.

"Do you find me that disgusting?"