Chapter: 993

Sean turned to face her, his gaze taking in her pale complexion and the nervous tremor in her hands. He couldn't be sure whether it was genuine fear or a calculated ploy.

"I apologize," he replied evenly, “but I'm not comfortable with close physical contact. My girlfriend would be rather jealous, wouldn't she?"

His words held a sincerity that couldn't be faked.

Lola, trapped in the confined space, couldn't help but envy his girlfriend. Even in this situation, his thoughts were with his girlfriend.

“The alarm's already been activated," Sean assured Lola, his voice calm and collected. “We just need to wait for the rescue team.

Panicking won't help, and attempting a self-rescue could be disastrous."

He spoke with the practiced ease of someone familiar with elevator mishaps. Panic was a Luxury they couldn't afford.

The lights flickered and died, plunging them into complete darkness.

The only sounds were their ragged breaths and the frantic thump of their hearts.

Lola instinctively shuffled away, her voice barely a whisper in the suffocating blackness. "Mr. Scott? Where are you?"

Her eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom, she'd already spotted his silhouette.

She took a step closer, aiming to lean against his broad chest for comfort. But before she could make contact, Sean's hand shot out, firmly yet gently stopping her. "Hold on," he cautioned. "Stay still."

“I... I have night blindness," she blurted out before he could question her. "I tripped accidentally."

Lola grasped his hand tightly, seeking solace in its warmth and size.

But before she could savor the feeling, he pulled away, his touch fleeting.

"Ms. Quinn," he said, his voice low, "it's best if you remain still.

Movement could cause the elevator to shift." He opted for a calm explanation rather than raising his voice in frustration.

Lola, emboldened by the darkness that concealed her actions, nodded but continued, "I understand, but I'm truly scared."

As the elevator lurched again, a choked sob escaped her lips.

“Mr. Scott, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling, “just hold my hand. It's pitch black in here."

It was a performance, a carefully crafted act designed to elicit a protective response.

She'd used vulnerability before, and it had always worked on men.

But Sean remained unmoved. "There's no need," he replied evenly. "The handrail is there for a reason."

His calm refusal left Lola feeling frustrated.