Angelic

I knew something was off. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but now, I had to face facts.

My therapist was right. I had to face the dreaded task of taking that elevator. Jackson lived in a penthouse apartment.

As much as I loved my place, it might not be my place for much longer.

A good a place as any to start would be surprising Jackson at his office. I knew I could do it. I’d done it many times before. Control my breathing. Be content with the knowledge that at any time, I could hit a button and get off.

Twenty-five floors to his office. I could do that.

Slow steady breath.

Don’t watch the floors light up.

The doors opened. I stepped out. Made it, no panic attack, no incident. Just a short ascent to the twenty-fifth floor. Nothing to it.

Anita was not at her desk. She must be on an errand.

I made my way to an open door, hoping it was Jackson’s office.

I walked up and froze.

Standing in an opened trench coat, with nothing on underneath, was the woman I remembered as the photographer assistant. Standing in Jackson office. Dressed in only a trench coat. With Jackson staring at her.

The elevator door dinged, Anita stepped out. My eyes shifted from Jackson to the elevator, Jackson, elevator.

Could I get back on that elevator in this shocked state? It was one thing to tackle it without this image in my head.

How long had I been standing here, seconds, minutes? I chose elevator. I sprinted and jumped in before the door closed.

Before Jackson could stop me.

I couldn’t breathe. Don’t watch the buttons. Floor twenty. I told myself.

I can do this. Breathe and don’t count the floors. Fifteen.

I couldn’t allow myself to hyperventilate. Not yet. Home, I needed to get home. I could panic when I got home. Ten.

So close now. Floor five, four, three, two, one. Ding. Then everything went dark.

My eyes fluttered open. I had a raging headache. I didn’t remember anything beyond the elevators opening.

“Water?”

I looked up to see Jackson handing me a bottle of water, his tone sedate.

There was no point in asking where I was and how I got there. I knew I was in Jackson’s office. More likely carried here because I passed out hyperventilating during my panic attack. An attack brought on by seeing my boyfriend standing in this very office with a nearly naked woman.

I sat up and he sat beside me, making no attempts to touch me.

“I panicked.” It came out low and apologetic. “I saw that woman. I know there’s a logical explanation. There has to be.” I took his hand and entwined our fingers. “In my heart, know I trust you. But what I saw… please God make my head understand what I saw.”

“That woman was the photographer’s assistant. She thought she could sleep her way into filling her old boss's position. Apparently she never got the no fraternizing with your superior memo. She was released from her contract for that stunt,” he explained.

“She’s been escorted out the building and her pass taken away.” His tone was cool, carefully understated.

“I’m sorry I panicked. I ran. We promised no running, and I ran.” I needed him to forgive me. I should have chosen to stay and stand my ground. Even if the outcome would have been different.

“Don’t apologize.” He cupped my face between his soft masculine hands. “I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same if the roles were reversed.” His blue eyes were sincere in that statement.

“Now, Angel, can you tell me why you took an elevator twenty-five floors to see me?”

“Can you close the door? I would like a little privacy and I think your staff is concerned.”

He headed out, talked to Anita and everyone was dismissed. He returned, closing the door behind him, and took a seat next to me.

“Remember the conversation we had about the condom?” I felt my face flush. I shouldn’t be embarrassed about such topics with Jackson after everything we had shared and done.

“Oh, I definitely remember that conversation,” he growled in that sexy low voice of his and fixed his eyes on me with his panty melting glare. That sheepish grin, that was what got us here in the first place.

“Well, you’re off the hook for condoms.”

“Yes,” he fist-pumped into the air.

“Not so fast. You’re on the hook for getting me pregnant.”