Chapter Text
Feyre was late for the most important interview in her life all because of the dickwad she met on the subway. He had blocked her path to the station by campaigning for male rights, she was already furious by what he was propagating but on seeing his name plastered on the walls of the station, she saw red.
The dickwad was Tamlin, her ex.
She made a beeline towards the train but the insolent creature saw her and rushed towards her. He held her hand and she raised it to smack him square across the face but he let go, raising his hands in surrender, flashing her with his sleazy grin.
Feyre wanted to gut him like a fish but opted to roll her eyes before scoffing at him, “I have to be somewhere right now, unlike some people, I have a life” she bit out and Tamlin dared to respond, his nostrils flaring, “ I’m sorry, am I making Ms Stick up her ass late for her whore-appointment.”
Feyre punched his nose before she knew what she was doing and heard the sickening sound of his bones break.
Tamlin yelped in pain, his hands flying up to staunch the bleeding and Feyre took that moment to run to her train but heard the disgusting tool’s vapid threat, “ You will get what’s coming to you slut.”
Feyre rolled her eyes and flipped him off as the doors closed. Her precious time was wasted interacting with that asshole, making her late for her meeting with Rhysand, the infamous CEO of Valeris Inc.
Feyre had been hounding Mor, her head hunter to get her an interview at Valeris, a part of the renowned media empire, The Night Court. Being a part of the night court was her lifelong dream, especially to work in their animation department and Mor had made her dream a reality, but she was now horribly late.
As soon as she reached her stop, she bolted towards the street of her dreams, the rainbow, on spotting the building in all its glory she released a breath of relief and all but ran to the door. She asked the receptionist, Nuala, where she was supposed to go and realised that she was over an hour late for the interview.
Feyre was devastated but Nuala reassured her that it would be fine and that Rhysand hadn’t come in yet.
Feyre was finally able to breathe, her shoulders slumped with relief and she smiled at Nuala who directed her towards the elevator and told her to go up to the 65th floor and that her Twin, Cerridwen would tell her what to do once she’s there. Feyre thanked the welcoming receptionist with a smile and made her way towards the elevator.
The doors opened, overwhelming her with a sense of dread, her breath was caught in her throat, she hated small spaces. She always preferred stairs over the elevator, but she had no desire to walk up the 65 flights of stairs and look like she was drowning in her sweat, so she decided to pull on her big girl pants and reluctantly entered the small metal box of death.
She pressed the button to take her to her doom and waited as the doors closed, sealing her fate.
She was now completely alone in the metal coffin and she gulped in fear.
She looked around, feeling her anxiety rise, her heart was beating a mile a minute, her mouth was dry and she felt all the air in the elevator sucked out. She leaned all her weight on one of the walls and tried to sing her favourite song, knowing that it would calm her. She shut her eyes and breathed in the crisp air and began to sing.
“I met you in the dark, you lit me up,” Feyre focused only on the lyrics rather than the fact that she was hurtling through the building in a metal box, suspended by wires and continued singing, keeping her eyes closed, “you made me feel as though, I was enough. We danced the night away-”
Ding.
The elevator shuddered to a halt and she nearly jumped out of her skin in relief thinking that it was her floor but was disappointed when it showed that she was on the 35th floor, she groaned but sobered up immediately when the most beautiful man she had ever seen walked into the elevator, his face tilted towards his phone. On seeing that he was not alone he looked up and smiled at her and her heart nearly stopped at the sight.
She returned the gesture and turned her attention to the plush carpet lining the floor and held her breath as the elevator continued on its path to her destruction.
Feyre stood, silently panicking as the man furiously typed on his phone but their amicable silence was splintered when the elevator screeched to a stop, the power going out, plunging them in the emergency glow of the neon lights.
“Fuck!” came Feyre’s reply while the man said, “Well, this is not good.” his tone was nonchalant, acting like his delivery was late and not at all concerned with being stuck in an elevator.
“I’m sure the power will be back soon,” the man replied looking at her, “How do you know?” Feyre bit out, her breath becoming shallow.
The beautiful stranger lifted his brows, concern washing over his face, “I work here, are you ok?” He moved closer to her.
Feyre shook her head, “I have claustrophobia, so this is basically my worst nightmare.” she said in between pants, her vision became tunnelled, her palms were sweaty and her knees buckled.
The man scooted closer till they brushed elbows and said in a soothing voice, “ Why don’t we sit down,” Feyre nodded eagerly and let the man guide her, he smiled, “Good. Now, I want you to focus on my voice, can you do that?” He looked at her sincerely, she nodded gratefully and did as she was told. “Great, so I’m Rhys and you are?” she swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat before responding, “Feyre.” The man- Rhys smiled and said,
“Hello, Feyre darling.”