Her brows knit together.
Ivy, momentarily taken aback by his tone, recovered quickly. She pulled out her phone, the dim glow lighting up her face in the pitch darkness. She dialed Reese, her fingers steady.
"Reese? Yeah—it’s Ivy. We’re stuck in the elevator on the VIP side. Inform reception. Get maintenance on it now." She hung up and glanced at Winn. His chest was rising a little too fast, his gaze fixed on the closed doors.
He was sweating—beads sliding down the hard line of his jaw. His breaths were shallow. The confident titan of House of Kane had vanished, replaced by a man stripped bare in his fear.
"Mr. Kane?" Ivy stepped forward, uncertain whether to cross the invisible line between employer and employee. "Are you okay?"
Winn’s hand clawed at his tie, jerking it loose, as if the silk was strangling him. The steel walls around them seemed to inch closer, shrinking the space, crushing him with memories he thought he had buried. His knees buckled, his towering frame suddenly fragile.
Ivy’s heart lurched as realization slammed into her. He was having a panic attack.
She rushed forward without thinking, catching his shoulders as both of them sank to the floor. "Mr. Kane? I’m here," she whispered, trying to keep her voice soft. "You’re not alone. Look at me. Hey, look at me."
His head tilted, his gaze unfocused. She reached for his face, her hand trembling but determined, guiding his eyes to hers. "It’s fine. We’ll be moving again in a couple of minutes. Come on—breathe with me. You can do this."
Her palm slid down his back in slow, calming strokes. The muscles beneath her hand were rigid, coiled with panic. She inhaled deeply, exaggerating the rise of her chest, then exhaled. "In... out. Just follow me, okay?"
Winn fought the shadows clawing at the edges of his mind. Shame burned hotter than his panic. And yet, the warmth of her hand anchored him. The cadence of her breathing became a rope he clung to in the storm.
"Just a few minutes," Ivy murmured, brushing her thumb across his sleeve in a gesture more intimate than she realized. "We’ll be out of here. I promise."
His breaths began to even. But what startled her most was the way he grabbed her side, fingers digging through the thin fabric of her blouse.
She leaned back to look at him. "You okay?"
Winn’s chest rose and fell, slower now. "You smell nice."
Reality smacked Winn across the face. He straightened abruptly, shoulders stiff as if bracing against a blow, and shuffled back until his spine pressed against the cold steel wall. Heat crawled up his neck.
"Just got a headache," he muttered, clinging to the excuse. He rubbed at his temple. "I’m fine."
"I understand," she said simply, turning her head so her cheek rested against the cool wall.
His eyes narrowed. "You understand what?"
"That you have a headache." She gave him a small shrug.
"Yes, I do," he shot back, asserting himself.
"You want to talk about it?" she asked after a beat.
Ivy lifted her brows and let out a small sigh. "We’re going to be here for about fifteen minutes, you know. Awkward silence is going to kill me before that happens."
"Why would the silence be awkward?" Winn asked.
"Because," she turned to him fully now, "I just witnessed my badass boss have a panic attack."
"It wasn’t a panic attack." Winn’s denial came sharp, almost defensive. "You want to fill the silence? Fine. Let’s talk about why you’re so mad at your boyfriend."
Ivy stiffened, lips parting, caught off guard. "I don’t want to talk about it."
"Then I guess there are topics we both don’t want to fill the silence with." He stretched his legs out in front of him, long and commanding even in this vulnerable slump. For a while, silence did settle.
"I found him with another woman yesterday. Having sex. In his apartment."
Good riddance to bad rubbish, he thought. "What did you do?"
"I left," Ivy admitted, her lips curling into a bitter smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "And I don’t know if I even have the right to be angry."
"Why not?" Winn asked, leaning slightly toward her.
Her gaze dropped to the floor, shame flickering across her features. "Because I have something I hide from him too." The confession slipped out before she could catch it, fragile but true, and the moment it was in the air she wished she could take it back.
Winn’s brows furrowed. "Are you cheating?"
"No." Ivy’s denial came fast. She met his gaze, her own glistening. "I... I love him, but I still feel guilty that there is a part of me I hid from him." Follow current novels on Nove1Fire.net
Winn wasn’t an idiot. He pieced it together instantly. So that’s why she wore a mask.
He turned his head slowly, eyes burning into her profile. "Look at me."
Ivy hesitated, her lashes damp as she wiped the single tear that had dared to betray her composure. She turned, her face tilting toward him.
"Nothing... nothing justifies being cheated on. Do not level down, Ivy. You can handle yourself. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Don’t let anyone devalue you."
Her lips twitched, a spark of humor rising even in the storm. "Did you just give me a compliment?"
He huffed, then muttered, "I must have left my brain in the lobby." The corner of his mouth curved, an unguarded chuckle slipping free.
God, that laugh—it stripped ten years off his face, melting away the layers of cynicism and command. It was beautiful. It made her wonder what it would take to keep that smile on him.
"What?" Winn asked, catching the look on her face. His brow arched.
"You should smile more."
He turned his head away sharply, shutting down as if she’d pressed on a bruise too tender to expose.
"I think you try too hard to keep people away," she added quietly, watching the way his profile hardened.