A dangerous elevator encounter with a coworker leaves the intern vulnerable to blackmail, just as a kind new executive arrives and stirs up office politics. Jealousy flares when Winter notices his growing bond with her rival cousin, leading to a punishment that blurs professional lines.
The elevator doors are almost shut when you jam your hand between them like the male lead in a K-drama. Except you’re not chasing after your one true love. You’re chasing after a girl you want to throw into a swimming pool filled with holy water.
The doors part. Ningning is the only one inside, lounging against the mirrored wall, scrolling on her phone like she’s checking the status of the souls she’s already collected today—including yours, most likely.
“Brave,” she says, not even looking up. “Most people don’t risk amputation just to avoid waiting another thirty seconds for the next one.”
You step in and immediately smack the emergency stop. The elevator halts with a loud buzz.
That gets her attention.
“Whoa,” she says, clutching her phone. “How’d you know about my secret fantasy of being kidnapped by a coworker?”
“Delete it,” you say firmly.
She tilts her head. “Delete what? I have a lot of bad decisions on here.”
“You recorded us without consent. That’s illegal.”
“So is half the shit this company does,” she says lightly. “Relax. I’m not posting it on TikTok. I’m just holding on to it.”
“In case?”
She nods like you finally get it. “Exactly. In case. It’s called leverage. Rich people love it.”
Your jaw tightens. “You’re not using me as leverage.”
She pushes off the wall. “Did you think there weren’t going to be any consequences when you went down on the CEO’s daughter with the door unlocked?”
You step closer before you can talk yourself out of it, closing the distance until her scent hits you—studio makeup with something fruity underneath.
The elevator suddenly feels like it’s shrinking.
“Delete it,” you repeat, quieter.
She looks up at you, eyes bright and filled with mischief. “I’ve never seen you mad before. It’s kind of hot.”
“I’m not mad,” you say, even though your pulse is slamming in your neck. “Not yet.”
“Mm-hm.” She taps her screen once, nails clacking. “That’s why you’re breathing like you sprinted up twelve flights.”
Your hand shoots out before you can think, palm smacking the wall beside her head hard enough to echo. She flinches—just for a second—then grins, laughter slipping out like this is all just entertainment to her.
“Not gonna lie, I’m like half scared and half turned on,” she says mockingly.
“You think you’re the only one with dirt?” you say, leaning in just enough to make her blink. “You really believe that?”
She lifts her chin. “Enlighten me,” she says. “I love story time.”
“I saw you. Downstairs. In the storage room with the Director.”
Her smile widens, not even a hint of shame. “Nothing gets past you, huh? You’re a little too good at your job for someone who’s so criminally underpaid.”
“And your job isn’t to blow your boss in a closet.”
“Oh, please.” She waves her phone like a fan. “Your job isn’t to get face-fucked by the ice princess either, but here we are.”
Heat spikes under your skin. “You have no morals, Ning.”
She rolls her eyes. “Spare me the righteousness. You literally just fucked the CEO’s daughter on her own desk. We’re two sides of the same coin. Don’t climb up on the moral high ground now, the air’s too thin for you up there.”
You lean in on instinct, crowding her back against the mirror. Her shoulder blades thump softly against glass.
Your body hovers over hers, and you become intensely aware of two things. The first is that you’ve never once noticed a camera in this elevator. And the second is that this is a terrible, terrible idea, and still, you won’t change your mind.
“You smell like sex,” you say. The words come out low, almost a growl.
Her lips curve. “And you don’t? I can practically taste Winter by just sniffing your face. Bet it was yummy, huh?”
You look down. Her skirt is short enough that when you’ve got her pinned like this, the hem rides up, revealing most of her smooth, luscious thighs and the obvious absence of anything underneath.
You shift your weight, thigh nudging between hers, and she sucks in a tiny breath she probably didn’t mean to let out.
“No underwear?” you ask, lifting her skirt up enough to confirm. “You just wander around the office like this after-hours?”
“They got soiled,” she says, simply. “I assume you don’t need to ask why.”
“It must be extremely difficult to find another pair here in a lingerie store.”
“We’re a production house, not a department store.” She clicks her tongue. “That’s next door.”
“Did the white panties you wore before changing into the lingerie mysteriously disappear?”
She beams. “My god, you pay attention to my underwear? Are you sure you’re not in love with me?”
You let out a loud scoff. “How does it feel going through life thinking everyone’s in love with you?”
“It feels great, actually.” Her knee brushes yours. “So? Now what?”
“Now you delete the video.”
She pulls her phone out again, twirling it between her fingers. “I told you. I need it. Just in case it comes in handy one day. Don’t worry, it’s for her, not you.”
You grab her wrist, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to still her hand. “My face is in it. You’re not keeping that.”
She studies you, eyes flicking over your expression like she’s flipping through channels, picking the one that turns her on the most. Then she smiles.
“I’ll make you a deal.” She taps her phone to your chest. “I’ll delete it… if you admit you’re attracted to me.”
You stare at her. “Are you twelve?”
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