Page 51 of Caught in the Axe
As I followed her down the hall, it was impossible not to admire the sway of her ass in those jeans. I chastised myself for being a perv with every step, but I couldn’t look away.
We made our way through the executive office space to the supply closet by the stairs. It wasn’t large, but it was relatively well-stocked and didn’t seem to have been ransacked. Rows of paper, pens, folders, and various other supplies were neatly organized. Probably the work of Miranda, my father’s former assistant.
She’d all but disappeared since his arrest. I had the sneaking suspicion she was one of the key witnesses in the case against him. Without her, unfortunately, we were in the dark about so much operational information.
“Looks like the light is out,” Lila said, pulling out her phone. She turned on the flashlight and scanned the shelves.
Any day now, we’d have more lights out than working in this building. We hadn’t employed maintenance staff for almost a year, and things were falling apart left and right.
I cataloged the items on the shelves as she scanned them, and when the toner cartridges were illuminated, I let go of the door so I could pluck one off the top shelf. The door slammed shut, and the room went dark. If not for Lila’s phone’s light, it would have been pitch black.
Handing the box to her, I turned, feeling the heat of her body close to mine, and swallowed back the first inkling of fear that rushed through me.
I hated small spaces. I needed to get out of here before I embarrassed myself. My hand was already clammy when I found the doorknob. I gripped it, and as I turned it, I pushed against the door with my shoulder. But it wouldn’t budge. I jiggled the knob and tried again. Nothing.
As sweat beaded at my temples, I pushed harder, assuming the bolt was stuck. I twisted the knob hard.
Instead of the click that would signal the latch bolt’s release, there was a thud, and the knob fell into my hand, then clattered to the floor.
“Fuck.” I dropped to my knees to inspect the door. Yup, dumbass that I was, I’d ripped the handle right off, leaving the lock mechanism stuck in the wall.
Lila laughed behind me, the sound light. “Figures that would happen. Here,” she said, nudging my shoulder with her phone. “Use this.”
My chest was already feeling tight as I took it and used the light to assess the issue.
Next came a bead of sweat running down my back, and as I worked to figure out how to release the mechanism, my hands began to shake.
Dammit. It wasn’t opening. And I didn’t have a screwdriver or a multi-tool on me, so I couldn’t take the door off its hinges.
Sucking in a harsh breath, I turned and stood, swaying on my feet. I pointed the light at the shelves and scanned them for anything that could help. But all I found were reams of paper and useless office supplies.
Lila stood beside me, still shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation. Her huffs and comments were lighthearted, but I was starting to spiral.
I tried, to no avail, to center myself with the deep breathing exercises I’d learned in therapy. I was beginning to lose feeling in my fingertips, and my lips were getting numb.
“Owen?” Lila said, her voice full of concern but far away.
It was getting increasingly harder to breathe, even as I counted my inhales and exhales. I was such a disgrace. It was a closet, for fuck’s sake.
But my nervous system hadn’t gotten the memo, no matter how illogical it was.
“Owen, are you okay?” her tone had turned concerned.
Shame washed over me, only making the panic more acute.
By thirty-eight, I should have outgrown this. My childhood fears should be firmly in the past, and I should be well equipped to work through any that might sneak their way in.
But no. I was freaking the fuck out in front of the woman I was obsessed with.
Fucking great.
Lila surely thought I was a basket case by this point. She’d probably run from the building, screaming all the way to her minivan, as soon as we got out of here. And I’d deserve it.
“Owen.”
Her hands were on my shoulders now. She still sounded far away, but the scent of her lemony shampoo surrounded me. I focused on it and forced myself to breathe it in, to feel her presence.
“Owen, look at me.” She splayed her hands on either side of my face and turned me so I was facing her. “It’s okay. Look at me.”
