Chapter 4: Trash Belongs in the Trash Can
2062words
I stood by the elevator, wearing earphones while taking Jackson’s call, putting on a fake sweet voice: “Okay darling, you go first, I’ll be there soon. You know how my boss is such a vampire, always sucking our blood and sweat. I’ll get there as soon as I can, don’t worry.”
I didn’t notice the elevator doors had opened, with Ethan Westwood and his assistant Noah inside. My fake sweet expression made Noah turn away to suppress his laughter, while Ethan’s lips curled slightly.
When I looked up and saw Ethan’s serious face, I quickly hung up the phone.
“Mr. Westwood…” I greeted awkwardly.
“Hmm.” He responded softly, his eyes seemingly carrying a hint of amusement.
I reluctantly stepped into the elevator and stood to the side, an awkward atmosphere immediately filling the space.
“Miss Levinsky, are you going on a date?” Ethan suddenly asked.
“No, just sending a friend to the crematorium,” I blurted out, then realized what I’d said and felt my face heat up.
“Need any help?” His tone remained calm, but I could sense the implication in his words.
“Not at the moment,” I forced a smile.
The elevator reached the 18th floor, and a group from the PR department rushed in. I quickly moved back but was pushed to Ethan’s side.
“Move in a bit,” someone said, then pushed me, nearly causing me to fall.
At that moment, I felt a strong arm steadying my waist. Ethan’s cedar and mint cologne immediately surrounded me, his body heat penetrating through his suit, making my heart race. My cheek accidentally brushed against his black suit, leaving a faint foundation mark.
My heart instantly accelerated, my cheeks burning. Fortunately, he quickly released me, but that brief contact left me unsettled.
The elevator reached the first floor, and the PR department people rushed out. I vaguely heard them discussing:
“Did you see that? The love bite we saw in this morning’s video conference is real!”
“Yes, right on his neck. Looks like the legendary ‘celibate CEO’ has finally broken his fast!”
My face reddened even more because I knew those marks were left by me.
Just as I was about to exit the elevator, I saw Jackson still waiting at the entrance. I quickly shrank to one side, not wanting to be seen.
“Aren’t you getting off?” Noah asked with a smile.
“I left something upstairs, you go ahead, I’ll go back up later,” I made up an excuse.
The elevator doors closed, and Ethan and Noah left. I breathed a sigh of relief and decided to return to my workstation. I wasn’t planning to meet Jackson anyway.
Back at the design department, I sat at my desk, played some music, and started sketching. After some time, Jackson called again, but I didn’t answer and turned off my phone. I made a cup of coffee in the break room and continued working.
Let’s see how you like being stood up, Mr. Time Management Expert!
Time flew by, and soon it was 10:30 PM. I closed my computer, stretched, picked up my bag, and headed to the elevator.
“Hmm?” Both elevators’ lights were off?
I checked my phone and saw a message in the group chat: elevator maintenance, not reopening until 8 AM tomorrow?!
That meant walking down 28 floors?!
I took a photo of the elevator and posted on social media: “Trapped! Anyone coming to rescue me…”
Then I reluctantly walked to the dark emergency stairwell. I sighed, gathered my courage, and started walking down.
After just two floors, my phone rang. I screamed in surprise and didn’t even see who was calling before the phone fell into the middle of the stairwell.
The ringtone echoed in the stairwell, then stopped. Suddenly, darkness enveloped everything, with only my faint breathing audible.
I fumbled to retrieve my phone, but the screen was black—probably broken. God! How could I be so unlucky!
I pressed the power button, trying to salvage this sudden disaster, hoping it would turn back on. But the phone remained dark, though the motion sensor lights above me came on.
Then, crisp footsteps sounded from above. “Tap, tap, tap…” The sound of leather shoes, and faint breathing.
“Who? Who’s there?” I shrank against the wall, my forehead covered in sweat.
As soon as I spoke, a tall figure stood on the stairs above. Backlit, his perfect silhouette was hidden in shadow, the faint sensor light illuminating him, his expression unclear.
“Me, the vampire boss.” A familiar voice came, with a hint of teasing.
“Mr. Westwood, what are you doing here?” I asked shakily, my heart racing uncontrollably.
“Vampires usually come out at night, don’t they?” His voice carried a hint of amusement; I could almost hear him smiling.
I didn’t know what to say, but my suspended heart settled. At least it wasn’t a stranger. Though he didn’t seem like a good person either, especially since I had just called him a “vampire” on the phone.
“Come up,” he commanded.
“I’m going home,” I suddenly felt that this man before me was more frightening than any situation I’d been in.
Ethan sighed imperceptibly. “The first floor is locked, you can’t get out.”
He paused: “Elevators usually take one to two hours to repair. If you don’t mind, come up for a coffee.”
Could I say I very much minded? But it seemed I had no other choice.
He didn’t wait for my response and walked back up. Looking at the pitch-black abyss of the stairwell below, I chose to follow him up.
On the 30th floor, even the emergency exit required security clearance. Ethan scanned his face, the door opened, and he gestured for me to enter.
I walked into the CEO’s office, my second time here. The office was spacious, with a large desk, a set of sofas, and a reception area.
“Rest in there if you’re tired,” he pointed to a small suite next to his desk.
“I’ll sit on the sofa out here,” I stepped back, not wanting to approach that room, which would remind me of that night.
“As you wish.” Ethan returned to his desk, sat down, and began handling documents.
I sat on the sofa waiting, and without realizing it, due to the day’s exhaustion, I fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was already 1 AM. Ethan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the city’s night view. His posture was upright, broad-shouldered with a narrow waist, the sleeves casually rolled up revealing the prominent veins on his forearms.
I held my stiff neck, letting out a soft moan, and realized I was covered with a black suit jacket, presumably his.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” I asked, my voice a bit hoarse from just waking up.
“The elevator’s fixed,” he said without turning around.
“Oh,” I responded, standing up awkwardly.
“I’ll take you,” he turned, his gaze deep.
“No need, I’ll just take a taxi downstairs,” I picked up my bag, ready to leave.
Ethan took his jacket and followed closely. I felt uncomfortable, like he was a shadow I couldn’t shake.
I walked towards the exit, but before leaving the parking lot, I heard a horn behind me. I moved aside, but the black car kept honking.
I looked back.
“Get in,” the man’s voice, deep and magnetic, his deep gaze behind frameless glasses exuding pressure.
I hesitated, then got in.
Just then, a BMW sped past, making a harsh scraping sound.
Both of us in the car looked in that direction until the car disappeared into the garage.
Coming back to my senses, I urgently tugged at my dress, which kept riding up as I sat, almost reaching the top of my thighs.
As I slightly adjusted my position, “Pop—” a button from my chest came undone, revealing a patch of white skin and the marks he had left last night.
Ethan glanced, then quickly looked away, his Adam’s apple involuntarily bobbing.
I hurriedly covered my chest, my face redder than a persimmon. I dared not move, couldn’t adjust the top, couldn’t pull down the bottom…
Ethan tossed me a black suit jacket from the back seat. I understood and put it on.
On the way, he stopped at an unassuming but cozy coffee shop on the corner and bought a hot chocolate. I thought he suddenly wanted one for himself, but when he got back in the car, he handed it directly to me.
“Take it,” he said softly.
I accepted it: “Thank you.”
Hot chocolate was my favorite, especially from this shop, with cinnamon and a touch of chili powder—their special recipe. I would buy one every time I passed by. How did he know?
I lived in Maple Gardens Apartments, not far from the company. It was now late at night, and Ethan parked below my building, watching me enter the elevator.
He looked up, and in less than a minute, the light on the 16th floor came on. Only then did he start his car and leave.
Exiting the elevator, I saw a bunch of yellow tulips and a cup of cold coffee on the ground. The scene looked somewhat like a funeral offering…
Inauspicious!
I remembered a saying: Trash belongs in the trash can!
I frowned, picked up the coffee, and threw it into the nearby garbage bin. Then I bent down, picked up the tulips, and without hesitation, tossed them into the bin as well.
I unlocked the door with my fingerprint and entered my small apartment. I took off Ethan’s large jacket, changed into slippers, and went to the bathroom.
After showering, I restarted my phone. Thankfully, it was fine. As soon as it turned on, I heard a series of notification sounds, dozens of messages flooding in. I didn’t even look at them, marking all as read without replying.
Jackson: [I called but you didn’t answer, sent messages but you didn’t reply, I’m so worried about you, the flowers were freshly picked today, hope you like them.]
In our five years together, he had always been this romantic, but his romance was too excessive, most adept at making people infatuated. He truly was a master, providing free services to women.
I laughed coldly and turned off my phone.
Lying in bed, my thoughts drifted deeper. Though I came from a single-parent household, my mother was a woman of strong principles. Under her guidance, I had always maintained certain values. Even after five years with Jackson, despite discussions of marriage, our physical relationship had never progressed beyond hand-holding and occasional kisses.
Perhaps it was this restraint that made Jackson restless, driving him to seek fulfillment elsewhere. But that was no excuse for betrayal.
I remembered the day before the Fashion Week celebration, during the event cleanup, when I spotted Jackson—who rarely attended such events. Though I had suspected his relationship with Olivia for some time, seeing them embracing intimately on the street, whispering and laughing together, felt like a thousand needles piercing my throat.
I shook my head, trying to clear these thoughts. I picked up my phone and found myself unconsciously opening Ethan’s contact. After staring at the screen for a long time, I glanced at his suit jacket and the hot chocolate he had bought me, remembering his absurd question:
“Would you consider becoming Mrs. Westwood?”
I laughed humorlessly. No matter how desperate I might be, I couldn’t be that casual! Why would the CEO of a fashion empire be interested in an ordinary designer like me? He wasn’t running a charity; how could he have “targeted” me so precisely? It was ridiculous.
I scrolled through my social media and saw that my “trapped” status had generated quite a response, with colleagues leaving comments of concern and teasing. That’s when I noticed a familiar profile—Ethan Westwood had liked my post.
Could he have come looking for me in the stairwell because he saw my status?
No, impossible. A CEO wouldn’t personally check on an employee just because of a social media update.
I put down my phone and picked up the hot chocolate. Taking a small sip, I found it perfectly sweet, its warmth spreading from my throat to my heart.
