Chapter 38

Serena’s POV
I CHECKED MY WATCH as I walked through the hotel lobby.
Our dinner with potential investors had gone exceedingly well, and the contract was practically signed.
Dreamland Studio would soon have the financial backing to launch our international collection.
“That went better than expected,” I murmured to myself, a small smile tugging at my lips. Two years of relentless work was finally paying off.
As I approached the elevators, my phone buzzed with a message from Maya—she’d secured the Japanese distributor we’d been courting for months.
Perfect timing. Once we finalized everything tomorrow—
The words died in my throat.
Standing by an open hotel room door was Ryan—my ex-husband—with a woman clinging desperately to his chest. Not just any woman. Ivy Hart.
I froze, a sudden chill washing over me despite my rational mind screaming that this shouldn’t matter. Ryan’s personal life was no longer my concern. We’d been divorced for years.
Yet something sharp and painful twisted in my chest as I watched Ivy press herself against him, her fingers clutching his sleeve possessively. The intimacy of the gesture was unmistakable.
I turned immediately, jabbing the elevator button like my life depended on it. Down, down, anywhere but here.
“Damn it!” I heard him growl, followed by footsteps racing toward me.
The elevator doors were almost closed—almost my salvation—when his hand shot between them, forcing them back open. He slipped inside, breathing hard, his face a storm of emotions.
“Serena, wait. This isn’t what it looks like.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? The oldest line in the book?”
“You don’t understand—”
“I don’t need to understand,” I cut him off, pressing myself against the elevator wall, creating distance between us. “Your personal life isn’t my business anymore, Ryan. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”
His jaw tightened. “So you just assume the worst? That’s how little you think of me?”
“I don’t think anything about you.” My voice came out colder than I intended. “We’re divorced, remember? You’re free to do whatever—and whoever—you want.”
Ryan’s eyes darkened dangerously. “Is that how you see me? Someone who jumps from one woman to another?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” I gestured wildly toward the closed doors. “She was practically climbing you like a tree!”
“She called me claiming she was being assaulted! I came to help her!” His voice rose with frustration.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot back.
But instead of answering, his eyes burned into mine as he stepped closer.
“I was in the hospital,” he said, voice low and trembling with anger.
“Why didn’t you come? Not once. Not even a call. Did you even care if I was alive or dead?”
“Your medical emergencies aren’t my concern anymore,” I said coldly. “I don’t have any obligation to—”
“So that’s it? Years together and you just switch off caring completely?” He moved closer, his scent—that damn familiar cologne—filling my senses.
“Because I never stopped caring about you, Serena.”
My heart thundered traitorously in my chest. “Move back, Ryan.”
“Make me,” he challenged, his face inches from mine.
The air between us crackled with electricity. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, see the storm brewing in his eyes. Anger, frustration, and something darker, hungrier.
“This is ridiculous,” I whispered, my voice betraying me by wavering.
“Is it?” His gaze dropped to my lips. “Tell me you feel nothing, and I’ll step back.”
I opened my mouth to lie, but no sound came out. Instead, I found myself staring at his lips, remembering how they felt against mine.
“Damn you,” he growled, and then his mouth crashed down on mine.
My hands, traitors to my mind’s protests, grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
His body pressed mine against the elevator wall, one hand tangling in my hair while the other gripped my hip possessively.
I gasped against his mouth, giving his tongue access to deepen the kiss.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmured against my lips, his hand sliding down to grip my thigh and hitch it around his waist. “Missed you.”
My skirt rode up as he pressed between my legs, the hard evidence of his desire unmistakable against my core.
I moaned involuntarily, my body responding to his touch like it had been starved for years—which, in truth, it had.
His lips traveled down my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath my ear that he still remembered. “Tell me to stop,” he challenged, knowing I wouldn’t.
Instead of answering, I pulled his mouth back to mine, my fingers working frantically at his tie. His hands slid under my blouse, warm against my skin, reclaiming territory once his.
Suddenly, the elevator lurched violently, lights flickering before plunging us into darkness. We froze as the car shuddered to a complete stop.
The emergency lights flickered on, bathing us in dim blue illumination. Our heavy breathing echoed in the silent space.
“What the hell?” Ryan muttered, slowly letting me slide back to my feet.
The intercom crackled. “Attention passengers, we’re experiencing a technical malfunction. Please remain calm. Engineers have been notified and will restore service as quickly as possible.”
Ryan and I stared at each other, the reality of our situation crashing down around us.
“How long?” Ryan demanded.
“At least an hour, sir. Maybe longer.”
I closed my eyes, leaning against the wall. Trapped in an elevator with Ryan Blackwood after nearly having sex with him. The universe clearly had a twisted sense of humor.
“So,” he said after an excruciating silence, “looks like we might be here a while.”
I leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes. “Fantastic. Just fantastic.”
A pause. Then his voice, low and far too calm.
“Come here. It’s cold on your side.”
I opened one eye, glaring at him. “Not a chance.”
His brow arched, amused. “Why not?”
“Because,” I said sharply, crossing my arms, “I’m not making the same mistake twice.”
He smirked, stepping just half an inch closer. “What mistake would that be?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
He chuckled, dark and soft. “Ah. So you are afraid of something.”
I stiffened. “Excuse me?”
He leaned slightly forward, voice dropping to a murmur.
“You’re afraid if you come closer… you’ll want to kiss me again.”
I scoffed, turning my head away, heart pounding despite myself.
“You’re delusional.”
But he was still smiling. And worse—I couldn’t tell if he was wrong.