He is sympathetic

Ryan finally broke the silence, his voice steady but carrying a sharp edge of disbelief. “Torres… why are you in your underwear?”

The question hit Isabel like a slap. Her face burned, and her lips trembled as she tried to answer. “I—I had an accident with my jumpsuit. It ripped, I had to leave it in the bathroom. I didn’t have a choice.” Her voice shook with every word. “I’m just… trying to get to the lost and found, to find something to cover myself.”

Ryan’s brow furrowed. For a moment Isabel feared the cruel smirk, the cutting remark she expected from her rival. But instead, he flicked his cigarette away and sighed. “That’s rough,” he muttered. “Really rough.” His eyes softened just slightly. “You shouldn’t have to walk around like this.”

The unexpected sympathy nearly undid her. Isabel blinked at him, chest tight, as if she might cry from sheer relief. “I know,” she whispered.

He shifted his weight, looking her over again but this time differently, more calculating than gawking. “So, lost and found, huh? You planning on sprinting through the building like this? That’s going to get you seen.”

Isabel hugged her arms tighter around herself. “I don’t know what else to do,” she admitted.

Ryan rubbed his jaw, thinking. “Then let me help you,” he said. “I can at least get you there without the whole office staring.”

Her stomach twisted at the idea, but it was better than being alone. She gave a tiny nod. “Okay.”

Together, they started moving down the stairwell. Isabel’s eyes darted around nervously, her arms crossed over her bra. Just as she went to take the next turn on the stairs, she felt the sudden, humiliating tug of fabric.

Her panties had caught on the cold metal railing.

The thin cotton pulled tight against her hips, snagged on the jut of a bolt she hadn’t noticed. “Oh god,” Isabel gasped, stopping in her tracks. She tugged at the fabric, but the seam held fast. The effort only made her underwear ride higher, cutting against her in ways that made her painfully aware of Ryan’s presence.

Ryan noticed instantly. “Wait—you’re caught,” he said, stepping in closer.

Her blood ran hot with embarrassment as he crouched down to inspect it, his face now only inches from her thighs and hips. From this angle, he could see too much. The lighting didn't matter, with him that close he could see right through the fabric. The texture of her bush, the outline of her ass cheeks. Every birthmark she never shared with anyone, every blemish she tried to hide, Ryan had now seen an up-close-and-personal look at it.

“Hold still,” Ryan muttered. He reached toward the snag with one hand.

Isabel’s breath caught in her throat. The closeness was unbearable, his head hovering by her bare skin as he worked at the trapped seam. Every nerve in her body screamed with awareness, his breath against her bare skin, his knuckles brushing the inside of her hip as he tried to free the fabric.

She shut her eyes, trembling, knowing he was seeing her in ways no coworker ever should. Each second the cotton refused to give felt like ****. Isabel prayed for it to come loose before her humiliation consumed her entirely.