"Which floor are you on, Mr. Holloway? I can press the button for you," Cynthia offered politely.
Dominic said nothing. He simply reached out and pressed the button for the 32nd floor, then let his hand drop back to his side.
He didn't speak, but his presence filled the small space.
Cynthia was momentarily at a loss for words. She reached to press the button for her own floor, only to see it was already lit.
She blinked in surprise.
"You live on the 32nd as well, Mr. Holloway?"
Still no answer.
"What a coincidence," she said, her voice tinged with awkwardness.
He remained silent, and her enthusiasm fizzled out.
Cynthia found herself quietly admiring those who could pull off the silent treatment—how on earth did they manage to keep from saying a single word to someone standing right next to them?
The elevator ride to the 32nd floor was longer than she expected. The cramped space contained only the two of them, making the silence so thick that Cynthia could hear her own breathing, embarrassingly loud.
This stalemate couldn't go on forever.
Not between him and her sister, nor between Tremaine Holdings and Holloway Enterprises.
"Mr. Holloway…" she said softly, breaking the silence.
Dominic lowered his gaze, finally looking at her.
Cynthia managed a small smile. At least he'd looked her in the eye—better than nothing.
"My sister called earlier, but she didn't say much. If you want news about her, once I'm back at The Capital, I could—"
He cut her off before she could finish.
"Who said I wanted news about her?"
There it was—denial, stubborn as ever.
If only he could keep up his earlier silence instead of being so contrary.
His reaction was just what Cynthia expected.
She continued anyway, undeterred.
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