Chapter 2 — Strangers in the Dark
Third Person
The elevator shuddered to a halt, a groan of metal echoing into a jarring silence. Olivia Hart stiffened, her hand instinctively tightening around the leather strap of her laptop bag. The fluorescent overhead light flickered once, twice, and then extinguished completely, plunging the narrow space into a dim red glow from the emergency bulb in the ceiling.
Her chest tightened as unease coursed through her. This was not part of the plan. She had a schedule—a meticulously crafted one—and this blackout was decidedly not on it. Her presentation for tomorrow’s pitch, the one she’d stayed late at the office to perfect, was supposed to be her crowning achievement. It wasn’t just another task; it was a pivotal moment that could determine her future at the company. And now she was trapped, time slipping through her fingers like sand.
Across the elevator, a shadow moved, drawing her attention. The man who had stepped in just before the doors slid closed leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. In the muted red light, Olivia could make out the faint outline of his face: sharp cheekbones, a dusting of stubble, and a mess of dark hair that flopped over his forehead. His paint-stained flannel shirt and scuffed boots were almost comical in contrast to her tailored blazer and silk blouse. He tilted his head toward her, his hazel eyes catching the reddish glow as he studied her.
“Well,” he said dryly, his voice cutting through the silence, “this is cozy.”
Olivia stared at him, momentarily caught off guard by his nonchalance. She straightened her blazer, her polished, professional armor against the chaos that now surrounded her. “I wouldn’t exactly call it cozy,” she replied, her tone clipped. Her gaze darted to the elevator panel, where the emergency button glowed faintly. She pressed it, waiting for the reassuring buzz of a connection to the building’s security.
Nothing.
Her jaw tightened. She pressed it again, harder this time, as if sheer force could will it to work.
“Pretty sure they got the message the first time,” the man said, his voice laced with sardonic amusement.
Olivia turned to him, her dark brown eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged, shifting his weight to his other foot. “You’ve hit that thing about five times now. If they’re not responding, it’s because they’re not there. Blackout, remember?” He gestured vaguely upward, presumably toward the darkened city beyond the confines of the elevator.
Her stomach twisted at the word. Blackout. The faint red light overhead—the only thing separating them from total darkness—seemed to pulse ominously. Her mind raced through the implications: the building’s systems offline, her presentation inaccessible without her laptop’s charger, her meticulously planned evening unraveling before her eyes. She checked her watch instinctively—the ticking second hand moved forward, unrelenting, mocking her inability to control the situation.
The man’s voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. “Relax, corporate. The world’s not ending. It’s just a little power outage.”
“Corporate?” she repeated, incredulous.
He gestured toward her outfit. “I’m guessing you’re not here to paint a mural.”
Olivia bristled. “And you are?” She glanced pointedly at his paint-smeared sleeves.
“Something like that,” he said with a smirk, leaning back against the wall. “Leo Rivera, by the way. Since we’re apparently stuck together, might as well introduce ourselves.”
She hesitated, debating whether to reciprocate. His casual demeanor grated on her nerves. But politeness won out. “Olivia Hart,” she said, her tone still formal.
“Of course it is,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching into what might have been a smile.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Nothing.” He waved her off. “Just… you look exactly like someone named Olivia Hart.”
She opened her mouth to respond, ready to defend herself against whatever assumption he’d made about her, but closed it just as quickly. What was the point? They were strangers, and this—whatever this was—would be over as soon as the power came back on.
Instead, she turned her attention to her phone, pulling it from her bag to check for a signal. A tiny bar flickered in and out at the top of the screen, taunting her with its unreliability. She tapped the messaging app and saw Claire’s last text still sitting unanswered: *Don’t work too late. You’ll thank me later.*
The irony wasn’t lost on her.
“No service?” Leo asked, his tone light but laced with something that sounded suspiciously like amusement.
She ignored him, shoving the phone back into her bag. The confined space was beginning to feel smaller, the air heavier. Her fingers brushed against the cool steel of the elevator wall as she steadied herself. She needed to focus, to regain control of the situation.
“You’re really not great at this, are you?” he asked.
Her head snapped up. “At what?”
“Being stuck. Letting go. You know, relaxing.”
She let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I don’t have the luxury of relaxing, Mr. Rivera.”
“Leo,” he corrected, his hazel eyes glinting in the dim light. “And yeah, I kind of got that. You’ve got the whole ‘Type-A perfectionist’ thing down to a science. Let me guess—your calendar is color-coded, and you’ve got at least three alarms set for every major deadline.”
His words struck closer to home than she cared to admit, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“It’s not,” he said easily, “but we’ve got time to kill, and you’re more interesting than the emergency light.”
She stared at him, unsure whether to be insulted or amused. He didn’t seem fazed by her silence, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes as though he had all the time in the world.
The elevator hummed faintly, the only sound in the otherwise oppressive quiet. Olivia shifted her weight, the heels of her pumps clicking against the scuffed floor. Her watch caught the faint red glow, and she glanced at it reflexively. Time was slipping away, and she could feel her carefully constructed plans unraveling with every passing second.
Leo’s voice broke the silence. “So, what’s so important that you’re here this late?”
She hesitated, debating how much to share. “A presentation,” she said finally.
He opened one eye, peering at her. “Must be one hell of a presentation.”
“It is,” she said, her tone sharp.
“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“No, it couldn’t,” she snapped, the words coming out harsher than she intended.
Leo didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked mildly amused. “Fair enough.” He closed his eye again, settling into a comfortable silence that only seemed to highlight her own discomfort.
The quiet pressed in on her, punctuated only by the faint hum of the emergency light. For a moment, she allowed herself to acknowledge the oppressive stillness, the way the elevator seemed to shrink around her. A flicker of irritation rose—at the blackout, at Leo’s infuriating calm, at the sheer audacity of the situation.
“Do you always make a habit of antagonizing strangers?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence.
Leo chuckled, the sound low and unhurried. “Only the ones who look like they might crack under the pressure.”
She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said, opening his eyes and meeting her gaze, “you look like someone who takes herself way too seriously. Thought I’d help you lighten up.”
Her frown deepened, but she didn’t respond. There was something disarming about his tone, the way he seemed to see straight through her without even trying.
The elevator remained still, the hum of the emergency light the only sound between them. Olivia shifted her bag on her shoulder, her fingers brushing the strap absently. She glanced again at her watch, its sleek silver face catching the faint light. The second hand ticked forward, unrelenting, a constant reminder of how much time she was losing.
Leo’s voice interrupted her thoughts once again. “You know, this might not be the worst thing in the world.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Being trapped in an elevator with a stranger?”
“Taking a break,” he said simply.
“I don’t need a break,” she replied, the words automatic.
“Sure you don’t,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t believe her.
She opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. What was the point? The sooner the power came back, the sooner she could put this whole bizarre encounter behind her.
For now, all she could do was wait.
