Page 4 of Until His Girl

I step closer. “I’m sure they’ll have us out in no time.”

She doesn’t respond. She just shakes her head slightly, her eyes wide and fixed on the unyielding doors.

Shit. She’s having a panic attack.

Instinctively, I pull her against my chest and fold my arms around her. She’s a tremor against me, all soft curves and warm skin, sending a jolt of lust straight through me.

“Deep breaths, sweetheart,” I murmur, feeling her short gasps against my chest. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She nods into my shirt. “Sorry,” she whispers, her voice muffled. “I’m claustrophobic.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” I rub her back in slow circles. “Focus on my voice, okay?”

Desire wars with concern in my gut. I shouldn’t be holding her like this, shouldn’t be taking advantage of her vulnerability. But I can’t make myself let go.

I need to distract her, anything to help her ride this out.

My gaze falls to her bag, splayed open with its contents partially visible. An opera brochure peeks out, the glossy paper catching the dim emergency light. Grasping at straws, I seize on it.

“Opera, huh?” I ask, my tone light. “You a fan, or is that just for show?”

“Um...” Her voice is a faint whisper against the fabric of my shirt. “I guess you could say I’m a fan.” There’s a hesitation before she pulls back slightly, enough to meet my eyes. “Although, in this case, I guess a better word is volunteer.”

“Oh?”

“My sister and I are part of the Fit Mountain Opera House volunteer committee. They’re holding a charity performance of the Sound of Music next Saturday to raise money for local music programs.”

“Interesting. Are you volunteering your singing talents?”

She laughs. “No, definitely not. I’m behind the scenes. Mostly last-minute details—confirming guest lists, organizing seating arrangements, and making sure everything runs smoothly on opening night.”

“Sounds like a big deal,” I reply, trying to keep the conversation going as she regains control over her breathing. “You into all that? Charity work, I mean.”

“I love it,” she breathes out, and I believe her. There’s a passion in her eyes that wasn’t there before, a spark that makes her even more irresistible. “It feels good to give back, you know?”

“It does. Although I’ll admit, I’m not much of an opera guy.”

Charity galas aren’t exactly my scene. I’m usually the guy writing the checks, not the one mingling in the crowd. But suddenly, I’m fantasizing about escorting her, showing her off as mine, and the idea is too fucking enticing.

“Me neither, at first.” She looks up and gives me a shy smile. “But it grows on you.”

“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” I reply with a low chuckle.

At that moment, the elevator lights flicker again, interrupting whatever thought I had.

A voice crackles through the intercom. “Mr. Donovan, are you both alright in there?”

“Fine,” I answer gruffly. “Just get the damn doors open.”

“Right away, sir. You’ll be out shortly.”

I loosen my hold on the woman in my arms, and she steps back, putting distance between us. It’s probably for the best, but fuck if I don’t immediately miss her warmth.

“Thank you,” she whispers, looking up at me with those doe eyes that seem to see right through me. “For helping me stay calm.”

“Anytime.”

The rescue crew starts working on the other side of the doors, their voices muffled but urgent, and I know our time alone is running out. But I can’t let this be the last time I see her.

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