So sorry for the super lengthy chapter and that you all had to wait so long for it. I literally have zero-five internet (no joke). It's also why I haven't replied to literally any comments for the past several days.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one!

♬ ✥*

Serenity.

"So, you got thrown out of the building?" My best friend popped her head up as she organised clothes hanging on the rack.

Amara owned a small vintage clothing shop down the street from where she lived. It was still in the same neighbourhood. She claimed that she could never leave this place because she loved it so much. I honestly didn't blame her. We resided in a beautiful location, which was also an incredibly relaxing area in the city.

She and I met in preschool, and since then, we've practically been inseparable. That was up until I moved to Calgary for dance school. I'd visit whenever I got the chance, and she did the same for me. I'd graduated a year earlier, but when it came for Mars to go to university, her dreams disappeared for a while, and she took a year off. Amara was the one who created and sewn many of my dance outfits and leotards. It was a passion that she carried and I reminded her of how much she loved fashion and keeping up trends. After that, she went to a great design university in the city.

When she graduated, she bought the shop that she worked at for several years as a part-time cashier. The woman that owned the place was getting older and planned on selling it eventually, so Amara wanted to jump at the opportunity — and she did.

We both had a passion for something, and it was a beautiful thing. She and I were always there for each other. We squealed when we found out when we had our firsts — our kisses, dates, heartbreaks, first-times, and so much more. I also had to stop her on several occasions when I was bullied growing up. She was the popular girl in high school out of the two of us, but she couldn't care less about cliques or any type of hierarchy systems that went on.

She was truly the best friend that anyone could ask for.

"Pretty much, yeah," I said whilst wrapping an olive-toned scarf around a mannequin. The colour reminded me of a certain man's eyes.

A man who I needed an investment from.

"You know, all I can picture is when Uncle Phil throws Jazz's ass out on the front lawn." She giggled, and it only made me laugh.

"You love that show." I shook my head, bringing the tip of my tongue to the corner of my lips in amusement.

"Who doesn't?"

"Touché." I pointed at her in agreement. She was just about to burst into rapping the theme song when we got interrupted by a sound.

"Hi, welcome to Ever-Mode. I'm Amara, let me know if you need any help," she called out to a customer who'd just walked through the doors, the chime rang letting her know. She then went to fold a cardigan on the table ahead of her. "So what's your plan now?"

"Um..." I trailed off, biting my bottom lip with a sly smile. "...sneak into the building."

My friend kept her laugh at a minimum, in attempt to contain her amusement. "You're willing to risk that? What if this time he gets the cops involved?"

"Yes and I don't think so," I answered, fiddling my fingers together as I leaned against a clothing rack. "I mean, Mr Styles doesn't seem like he's that cruel. Sure, he's Mr CEO, but I don't think he'd risk anyone knowing that he threw a girl out for trespassing." 

"Well, I can't give you any advice. Just do what you gotta do, I guess." Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, unsure what else to really say, as she looked at me with her kind chocolate brown eyes.

I made my way over to where she disappeared in the back room. "That's the plan."

When she came back out, a pint of cookie dough ice cream and two spoons were in her hands. Passing one to me, she popped off the lid of the container, then asked me another question, "So do you have a plan?"

"Sort of, but here's to actually making it work without failing." I raised my spoon. "Cheers, my dudette."

"Cheers," she replied, clinking her own with mine. The two of us dug into the small container taking a large bite of heavenly goodness.

♬ ✥*

Entering the same massive building once more, my nerves were beating harder than they were the last time. I was afraid that I'd get caught — and not just for the sake of being caught, but for so much more. My chance of being the owner of Studio Starlight would be in the dust. It'd only be a vacant building — one that was missing the dancing feet on its pristine linoleum floors and the sounds of beautiful classical and modern music play from the speakers.

But instruments, though, that was a whole other story. One of my dreams was to be able to bring in a grand piano into the studio and play some songs myself. The problem was that I didn't have any musical talent to save my life.

It was treacherous, really.

Putting my irrelevant thoughts aside, I waited a few more days then called in to see if I could find out when Mr Styles would be in the office — and miraculously, I got lucky.

So here I was — on a beautiful Tuesday morning, where the skies have cleared from last night's rainstorm, with chickadees and Robin's chirping happily nearby — breaking into Urban Corp. using a fake ID.

With his CIA-level of security, I just hoped this would work.

Handing my new identity card to security, I showed a warm smile, added an accent to my voice, and raked my fingers through the synthetic short strands of the blonde wig atop my head. Amara wanted me to go for brown contact lenses, but I said that was too much.

The joke of that, though.

I was relieved when they cleared me through, after I mentioned that I was delivering lunch to an employee here. As for the lunch itself, it had already been devoured earlier — so the large paper bag was filled with nothing but crumpled wrappers and my business proposal.

Navigating through the building was easy, even though my amount of courage to use the elevator was at a bare minimum. Deep breaths were inhaled and exhaled, and numbers were counted, on the short ride — this time, three floors below where Mr CEO's domain was. However, I took a detour and popped into the stairway to slip off my wig, placing it in my purse.

It was time to go back to my true self.

I combed my fingers through my hair, styling it blindly, then smoothed out my beige-toned, ruffled blouse, and black trousers. I adjusted my glasses, resting lightly on my nose. A deep breath escaped my lips as I let it out, easing my anxious feelings.

I can do this.

Without a second though, I continued my journey to my destination. Exiting on the floor I needed. I was quickly spotted by Iris, who gave me an unpleasant look.

"I come in peace. I'm sorry," I spoke, raising my hands in surrender as I made my way up to her desk.

"That was a dirty game you played. You seemed like a sincere person," she said, her brows furrowed and arms crossed.

"I did, and I really am sorry about that. I swear that's not how I am. I just really needed to speak with him."

"You almost cost me my job." Her eyes were narrow at me, hiding the pale icy blue hue her irises held.

"He wouldn't fire you." The words came out of my mouth, before I could properly think them through. I didn't know that.

"You don't know him — or me for that manner," she huffed with her brows furrowed. "Yes, he would have. Mr Styles is lenient on certain things, but when it comes to personal interference, nothing else matters."

"I don't know how many times I can apologise. I'm saying sorry once more. Please, accept it."

"Alright, I accept it, and please leave now. I'd appreciate it if Mr Styles doesn't see you again. It won't be good for both of us," she spoke, hurriedly.

"I know this is a lot, but this is my last chance for me to get an investment. Just let me see him once more. If he kicks me out again, I'll beg him not to fire you or any of his other employees. It'll be on me, not anyone else. Heck, he can even send me to jail. I just — please," I pleaded, my hands clasped together in desperation.

Blue eyes stared deeply into my own, reading me entirely as her gaze flickered between my own, and all over my face. Her bottom lip was taken in-between her teeth, pondering deeply at something; and it added a small amount of hope when I noticed she didn't reject me straight away.

My heart beat was heard loudly in my ears as it pounded against my chest. There was too much silence. Without another word, she stood up from her chair, grabbed a large pile of multi-coloured folders.

"I need to take these to accounting. Don't make me regret this." Her last five words were said in a whisper, before she walked away towards the elevators.

"Thank you."

Waiting until she was out of sight, I cautiously made my way towards the pressurizing door again. Knocking gently, I heard the same two words that were spoken the last time — so I acted upon them.

Something inside me told me that today things might be different — but at the same time, they weren't. A familiar cold aura filled the tense space. Mr Styles' head was down as he was seated behind his desk, going through papers — with multiple stacks nearby. He seemed frustrated with whatever it was that he was reading. Several cruel words and insults were thrown at whoever put them together. He huffed in this uncomfortable silence we both breathed in.

Stiff shoulders and a strained neck were quite visible. As a dancer, it was necessary to have perfect posture — and surprisingly, it also helped with mood and how to handle stress. For Mr Styles, however, his stance wasn't straight as it should be. It only showed how much pressure he carried on them.

Carefully, my feet took a couple of steps, then unfortunately walked into a cabinet on my left, almost knocking myself over. I grabbed hold of the top, saving myself from more embarrassment.

So much for being a graceful ballerina.

Clearly startled, he looked up quickly in reflex, his expression darkening by the second. "What the fuck? Honestly? Again?"

"Um, yeah." I let out a soft, short laugh. Scratching the back of my neck, I kept hold of my file close to my chest. It only reminded me of how much of a klutz Serena Tsukino was — it seemed that I'd channeled her inner self. "Sorry."

"Save your apologies. I thought you got the hint that I wanted you out of my office — hell, out of my building — when I got security to escort you out. Are you a ghost or something that's haunting me? How the fuck did you get in here?"

"You did. But this time Serenity didn't enter the office, Lindsay did." I smiled, holding up a fake ID.

"Are you that pathetic?" he spat.

I furrowed my brows at his rude remark. "Okay, dude, first of all, ouch, and second, I'm not pathetic, I'm determined. There's a big difference. Look it up."

"Fuck," he muttered, dragging his right palm down his face. "First of all, I'm sorry. Second, I don't need to. I know what it means."

"Apology accepted." I nodded once. "So, since we're having a civil conversation, can I pitch you my business?"

"No."

"You're mean."

"Never said I wasn't."

"Smug and arrogant. Like I said," I mumbled.

"Sorry, what was that? Your attempt to stay quiet failed terribly."

"Well, since you heard it, I shouldn't have to repeat myself." A smirk was prominent on my face, and he let out a heavy breath.

"Are you always like this?"

"No." I grinned, and I heard him cuss lowly.

"What do you want from me?"

"To listen to my business pitch and invest in it."

"For fuck's sake. I don't want to listen to it, nonetheless invest in it," he complained, and once more, rubbing a hand over his face.

And my goodness did he have a pretty hand.

"But why? Give me one good reason."

I knew I was pushing my luck with being so push, but if I'm going down, might as well go down with my dignity.

"You're annoying as fuck. That suffice?" A raised, perfectly shaped, brow joined his snide comment.

"Gee, thanks for sugarcoating it." I sneered, making my way towards his desk. "And you've got anger issues. I mean, sure I've clearly bothered you, but still. You've got to be either a Scorpio or an Aries."

"What nonsense are you on?" He snorted with an uninterested form of confusion.

"Zodiacs. I love them," I replied with a warm smile. As a second attempt, I carefully made my way over to his desk. He still remained seated during our quarrel, but nonetheless, he watched my every movement; and for the first time, our eyes bravely met. "Now, can I pitch you my business?"

"Why are you so persistent? No means no." His brows were furrowed in perplexity, as his emerald gems gazing intently into mine.

"Why are you so against it? No can mean yes. You just have to see it. You just have to believe in possibilities." I knew he could see the twinkling in my hopeful sapphire eyes. I was determined to convince him.

But that all changed when he suddenly turned his focus away from me. "What time is it?" he asked, panic in this eyes as he looked at his watch. "Shit, I'm late."

He started mumbling several things about what he needed to give Iris while searched for his phone that was covered under a mountain of papers. He double-checked for a specific file that was on top before he placed it in his briefcase. Without a second glance, he walked right past me through the doors.

"Hey." I called out to him.

"I have a meeting that you made me late for — and I'm never late." His words were bitter towards me, and I'll admit that I deserved them.

But I had no other option. If I did, I wouldn't be here, pestering them with my despair.

"I'm sorry," I apologised, following him into his elevator.

"What are you doing?" Green eyes were wide, staring at me in disbelief.

"Well, I'm not going to stay in the building if you're not here. So I'm walking out with you."

"No one rides in this lift with me," he said, as it already began to descend. The main floor button illuminated in an admiral blue.

"There's a first for everything." The corners of up lips curled upwards as I took a glance at him. It was only then that my senses realised we were moving.

"Apparently so," he muttered.

My mind became oblivious to my surroundings as I acted in instinct. "Okay, breathe now, Serenity. One, two, three —"

"What are you doing?"

"Four, five —"

Suddenly, we stopped moving as the elevator came to a screeching halt, and my worst fear finally caught up to me.

No.

No. No. No.

"What the fuck?" Mr Styles' voice echoed in the small space.

"What's happening?" I asked, feeling the immediate panic travel through my body.

"We've stopped moving," he scoffed, stating the obvious while pressing the emergency call button. "Carl, what's the issue?"

"There was a shortage and — we're — to —" his voice cut out, disappearing entirely.

"We're s-stuck?"

"We're not going to die," he sneered, narrowing his eyes at me. The lights then flickered off, leaving a soft emergency light glow light come from the panel. It was the bare minimum to allow us to see each other, but not bright enough to illuminate the space.

"No. N-no we can't be stuck. I can't. No air. C-can't brea—"

"Shit. Hey..." The tone of his voice changed suddenly as his eyes became soft. "...hey, don't be afraid. Focus on my voice. Breathe with me. Take a deep breath in and let it out. Listen to the air escaping my nose, okay?"

I nodded in response, not able to find my voice to reply verbally. Slowly, I followed his actions, but I still felt the heaviest pressure on my chest. It only made me panic even further. I let my folder fall, fanning my fisted hands still in ultimate fear.

Mr Styles placed his briefcase on the ground and took hold of my hands. I retracted them, but he pulled them back towards him. His grip on me was tighter than I expected. All of my focus went to the pain that started to occur in them. My attention darted towards our joined hands, then into his soft eyes.

He didn't say anything, but moved them and placed my palms against his ribs — just where his heart was. His pressure lightened on me and we both accepted the warmth of his skin on mine.

"Feel my heartbeat. Listen to it and breathe slowly," he softly spoke and showed the faintest of smiles.

Underneath my touch, I felt my heart beating at a healthy pace, and I tried to match it as best I could. My eyes closed as I pictured the organ pump blood at the same speed.

I hadn't realised that his fingers had moved slightly down on a specific location on my wrist.

"That's better, yeah?" he said, just above a whisper. His tone was low to let me hear both his voice and the stable beats.

I nodded at his words, before quietly thanking him.

"You're okay." His expression was assuring, the same curl on his lips barely visible, but still there. "You're safe."

Our eyes remained on one another for a time that was unknown to me. It helped me notice the small speckles of gold amid the vibrant emerald irises. Not much of them were shown since they were contracted because of the dim light — but they were still beautiful. I noticed the details of his face, everything seeming more alluring up close.

"Let's sit?" he suggested, and I finally broke my gaze at him, looking towards the floor.

"Okay," I answered. Slowly, I felt his hands drift from mine, but I immediately grabbed one back. I looked at him with desperate eyes, praying he wouldn't let go. "Please."

He nodded and made sure our grasp on one another didn't part while we sat down. Our backs rested against the wall, with our legs straightened out in front of us.

Silence consumed the little air in the space, but my panic didn't return. It was oddly strange that he did what he did — and was okay with it.

I've only once experienced something like this when I was a child. I'd gotten lost in a mall and went to look for my family. I entered an elevator that I remembered going up in earlier, so I thought I'd retrace my steps. It was going great until it stopped. The only difference was that time I was completely alone. Ever since then, I've had a fear of them, and wouldn't get on one again — that was until my brother Charlie helped me overcome them. Nonetheless, when there are too many people, panic always floods within me; however, this time, the feeling escalated to the highest degree of fright. It was like I was reliving that moment.

What I didn't understand was how he was able to calm me down. He seemed like he knew exactly what to do and that he'd done this before. Did he used to be claustrophobic or have panic attacks?

But when he told me that I was okay, that I was safe, I believed him. We were strangers to each other, yet I had complete faith in a man that'd I barely met once before.

Another thing I wasn't able to comprehend was the fact that I didn't find it weird to hold his hand — to feel his skin against mine. I mean, I'd held hands with many guys before, especially during while dancing, but I'd never felt this strange sensation that was happening inside me.

"How're you feeling now?" His deep voice broke the silence.

"Better. Thank you." I turned my head to face him, and he