Dani Keller jabbed the elevator button hard enough to make her nail bend—floor One, sweet, sweet freedom. The gold-plated placard above the panel caught the emergency lights: Jacobs, Keller & Brand — Attorneys at Law — 20th to 23rd Floors.

The elevator doors whispered shut, sealing her in with her reflection: sharp cheekbones, weary eyes, a messy knot of dark hair, and a pale silk blouse now rumpled from fourteen straight hours of billing time.

She huffed out a breath, kicked off her black pumps, and sagged back against the mirror-paneled wall. Her leather tote slid off her shoulder, landing with a soft thud near her bare feet. Outside the paneled walls, the numbers blinked: 20... 19 ... Just before 18, the doors hesitated, then smoothly opened. A man stepped inside.

Tall. Silver hair brushed back. Black turtleneck, tailored charcoal jacket, soft leather duffle slung carelessly over one shoulder. A faint trace of cologne, Bergamot, Lavender, and Citrus, something old-fashioned, floated in with him.

Dani gave the polite, automatic half-smile of a woman too tired to care who she was stuck in a metal box with. He nodded back with the easy confidence of someone used to being nodded at. The doors closed.

17... 16 ... With a sudden metallic jolt, the elevator shuddered to a stop, pitching her forward slightly. The overhead lights flickered twice, then died, plunging the car into darkness.

“Are you kidding me?” Dani breathed, jabbing at the buttons. The panel stayed dark. She hit the call button. There was no reassuring beep, no operator. Just the soft mechanical hum of the backup power as dim red emergency lights sputtered to life overhead, casting the small space in an eerie, blood-colored glow.

She groaned and ran a hand through her hair. Of course. Beside her, the man adjusted his grip on the duffle. It gave a soft, unmistakable metallic clink.

Dani’s pulse skipped. Her lawyer’s brain clicked into gear. Fifteenth floor, Midtown Diamond Brokers. Breaking news alert. Smash-and-grab, suspect at large.

Her eyes tracked automatically: from his face to his duffle, to the small velvet pouch tucked into the outer pocket of his jacket, the kind no one but jewelers used.

Her breath caught. And that was when he turned his head, just slightly, and smiled. A slow, almost regretful curve of his mouth, as if to say “I wondered how long it would take you.”

Then, with an almost casual elegance, Sebastian Kane reached into his jacket and drew a pistol.

The pistol gleamed dully in the red light, sleek, compact, unmistakable. For a long, tense second, Dani just stared. Then she snorted. A sharp, involuntary little laugh burst out of her.

“Really?” she said, lips twitching. “A Walther PPK? What, were they out of martinis downstairs?”

Sebastian Kane blinked, just once, the faintest flicker of amusement brushing across his features.

“Charming,” he murmured. His voice was smooth, dry as an aged scotch. “You’re sharper than you look.”

“And you’re a cliche.” Dani’s foot nudged her tote aside. “International jewel thief, final big score, sleek little gun, and let me guess, the Maldives, right? Somewhere with bad cell service and strong cocktails, and no Extradition?”

Kane’s smile widened just a little. The pistol stayed steady.

“You’ve been reading too many paperback thrillers, counsel.”

“Maybe.” Dani crossed her arms, her bare feet quietly anchoring her against the wall. Her heart pounded, but adrenaline sharpened her tongue. “Or maybe you’re just the kind of guy who likes his endings neat. Hit the diamond brokers on fifteen, slip out with the evening crowd, gone before sunrise.”

A faint metallic clink from the duffle punctuated the silence between them.

Kane tilted his head, studying her like an art appraiser, curious now. “You’re not scared.”

“Oh, I’m terrified,” Dani said breezily. “That gun’s practically a collectible. Are you sure it works, or is this a Bond cosplay gone rogue?”

For the first time, a laugh slipped from him, low, surprised, genuinely entertained.

In that fractional moment, when his grip relaxed just slightly and his stance shifted, Dani’s legal brain handed off to muscle memory.

She surged forward, bare feet silent on the elevator carpet, tote swinging up, fast and hard, toward his wrist. Kane, seeing the motion tried to sidestep, and Dani’s leg swung wide and high, catching him in the jaw.

Kane’s slumped to the floor, out cold. His duffle lay at his side. “Ow!” Dani shouted while balancing on one leg and shaking the foot that struck the bone.

“That, fucking Hurt!” The elder man lay unloving on the elevator floor and for a moment Dani stood trying to decide her next course of action. As she glared down at her victim, her face twisted into a shocked expression.

“Oh, come on,” Dani whispered. “Seriously?”

Because there it was: the unmistakable outline of post-traumatic, poorly timed ... well, he had a fucking hard-on.

Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. She made a small, half-laughing, half-panicked noise, dragging both hands through her hair. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

For a second, she just sat there, wide-eyed and buzzing with leftover adrenaline.

The kind of adrenaline that, mixed with the hum of danger, the rush of control, and the sharp spike of her own neglected frustration, made something primal stir under her lawyerly cool.

“Great,” she muttered, pressing her palms to her flushed cheeks. “Just great.”

Her eyes darted over him. The crumpled black turtleneck, the silver hair at his temple, the slack, perfectly symmetrical mouth.

And for one reckless second, Dani wondered: “What exactly is the protocol here?” She exhaled slowly, sitting back on her heels.

“Alright, James Bond,” she murmured under her breath. “You’re unconscious, you’re illegally armed, and you’ve got a, uh ... barely concealed weapon? And I...” She blew a lock of hair out of her face.

“I am stuck barefoot in an elevator with you, after a twelve-hour workday, with no signal, and no clue how long we’re going to be here.”

Dani pinched the bridge of her nose, huffing out a half-laugh. “Well, this is going to be an interesting night.” Without preamble, Dani leaned over and unzipped Kane’s black trousers, and his cock popped out like a Jack in the Box.