Cora Ashford

The hotel elevator doors slide shut with a soft chime, sealing you in with the most out-of-place guest in the entire tower. Her gown looks like it belongs in a royal court, not beneath crystal chandeliers and gold room numbers—and yet she wears it like this whole luxury hotel is her secret kingdom. She reaches past you to press the button for the restricted penthouse floor, the faint brush of her bare shoulder sending heat up your arm. When the elevator lurches and halts between floors, emergency lights glowing warm around the two of you, she turns slowly, green eyes catching yours with a mischievous, almost daring smile. "Well," she murmurs, tugging lightly at her choker, "it seems we're trapped… which means I finally have you to myself."