4. alessia

4

ALESSIA

I head over to Henry's building, or as the entire military likes to call him, "Admiral Ravenmore." He texted me earlier this week that it was urgent, and of course, I obliged. Ever since I joined the Navy, I have kept it professional with him. I avoid him as much as I can. So I head over, no questions asked.

Although, I thought it was weird because even though he just returned from overseas a month ago, he was also headed to Iraq with the Executioners.

Operators Grim Reaper, Bane, Cobra, and Texas were all very well known. They're Ravenmore's favorite most prized possession of a team. Wherever they went, he was right there. They were set to deploy, and if I wasn't mistaken, Grim had just taken out another most wanted high-value target. The man doesn't stop working, and rumors say his wife is well into her pregnancy.

I walk into the cold, rundown, ancient brick building, swinging the door open, and it's usually busy as hell. But not today. Sailors and marines walk in and out, but it's a Saturday, and everyone is at home—except me, except the Admiral.

I take off my cover because I'm in uniform. When you're in uniform, you're required to take it off when indoors. So I hold it in my hands, taking long strides toward the elevator in the center of the lobby. I reach for the black button, my finger an inch away, but someone beats me to it. Someone else's long masculine fingers press it before me.

I raise my eyebrows, and my mouth falls slightly open. I look to my left and see a man in a uniform, wearing a mask—an Executioner's mask—but I don't recognize him.

To my knowledge, they only wear masks on missions, so why is this man still wearing his?

It's not Grim. It's not Slaughter. It's not Rooker, and it's not that mischievous Texas cowboy, Lopez.

The button turns bright yellow, and I take a step back, creating space between the SEAL and me. I retract my finger and clear my throat nervously.

His frame looks familiar, but I can't pinpoint why. He's so tall he has to be the same size as Grim. But his eyes...his eyes make me question where I've seen him before, and then I realize I'm staring.

They're grey...almost white with hints of ice blue. It's hard not to notice the scars on his left eye. Marks that start at the top. It's above his eyebrow and goes down to his lower lash. Maybe even down to his cheek. But I can't tell behind the black fabric.

"Are you going up?" His deep voice asks me, and I hadn't realized the elevator doors had opened for us. His voice sends a quiver to my heart from how husky and unique it is.

I shake my head, tearing my gawking expression away from him like ripping off a band-aid embarrassingly.

"Uh—yeah."

He bows his hand so I can walk further in the elevator. My teeth sink into my bottom lip. I'm already acting like I don't get any social interaction and have my foot in my mouth.

He follows me into the metallic silver room with horrible dull yellow lighting and brown walls. Standing in front of the buttons, I wait for him to walk in before I press the fifth-floor button.

He enters, holding his hands behind his back, and walks to the back of the elevator.

The door closes, and I rest my hands at my side, still clutching my cap. I watch the number switch from one to two…then to three.

I blink, and the next thing I know, my body jolts with a forceful pull of gravity; the elevator sways vigorously for a split second, my balance getting thrown off. I fall right into the arms of the masked Navy SEAL. I was going to fall face-first into the doors before he grabbed my hand, pulling me into his chest. His right hand is on the railing of the elevator, and his other is securing me around my waist…almost protectively.

I let him hold me for a second longer as I try to catch my shaken breath. He smells…good. That's when I realized our unfortunate situation: The elevator stopped moving and won't open.

Oh, no.

Oh, hell, no.

"No, don't tell me we're trapped!" I start to panic frantically.

I let go of the stranger's hands and smooth my uniform down with my palms, collecting myself. I pick up my hat, that I dropped accidently, and walk closer to the doors.

"You're welcome, by the way." He says nonchalantly.

I hadn't thanked him for the impending doom of a bump on my face.

"Sorry, that was very rude of me. Thank you so much for saving my forehead." I breathe out jokingly, with a welcoming smile.

After pressing the emergency button several times, he walks backward into the corner, but no one is in this building besides Henry. There may be a few officers, but I doubt they'll answer the emergency button.

A short husky chuckle reverberates out of his throat, and it's so warm yet mysterious...and?—

I have a boyfriend.

I have a boyfriend.

I. Have. A. Boyfriend.

"I don't do well with small spaces." This isn't good. Nausea slithers into my senses, and I can feel myself turn green at the thought of being stuck here for hours.

I get anxious with small rooms and spaces, even at doctors' offices or MRI machines. Having to be still in tight medical machinery always makes me nervous. Don't even get me started on planes.

"Don't worry, Valentine. They'll find us." The stranger reassures me.

My heart sinks, and my eyebrows crease inwards. I tear my eyes away from the elevator buttons and look at him leaning on the wall, one leg over the other and crossing his arms. I only see two light eyes piercing through my brown ones.

"How'd you know my name?"

I'm on edge after my apartment was shot at. The police didn't find any leads but advised us to stay at someone else's for the night. But with my busy deployment schedule, I'm hopeful the police will find out who it is so Jack can sleep in our bedroom peacefully.

He doesn't say anything in return. He doesn't have to. His eyes say it all when they dip down to my chest and then up to my lips...

The way he studied my chest and lips sent a wave of unfamiliar heat I hadn't felt in a long time from a man who hides behind a black mask. So, I do what I do best when I get overwhelmed by something that's out of my routine: I hide. I pretend like it's not happening.

I look down at my chest and realize how stupid I am.

My name tag sits below my collarbone on my uniform.

Valentín

"Oh, duh. It's…Valentín by the way."

"Sure." He nods, and the skin around his lashes creases, indicating a sinful smile that creeps into his features. I just know it.

"Ms. Valentine." He finishes darkly.