In the dim glow of the emergency light, I extended a granola bar toward him, and he remarked with a deep voice, "You sure are keeping your cool."

"Dr. Hilton, you taught me that. On the operating table, I had to save lives, even if it was someone who had hurt me. Who's got more mental strength than me?"

My self-deprecating comment made him tighten his grip on my arm a bit more.

The elevator lights went off as I moved the granola bar toward his mouth. Suddenly, I had no idea where to aim the snack. My fingertips accidentally brushed against something soft and warm, which made my face red in the darkness. Thankfully, he couldn't see anything in the pitch-black. That softness was his lips, which I remembered tasting a few times.

Even in the dark, Max accurately grabbed my wrist and took the granola bar from my hand.

As time ticked by with no sign of rescue, my anxiety started to kick in. The darker it got, the more I was reminded of being hurt in that dark, secluded cabin. A shiver of cold began to run through my body.

"What's wrong?" Max asked, reaching out to hold my hand. Instinctively, I pushed him away and shouted, "Don't touch me!"

that wasn't the time

I shouted, no longer caring if my fluctuating demeanor made me look foolish in Max's eyes. All I could

seemed to spin around me. I felt nauseous, scared, and terrified. I

"Claire."

Finally, his long fingers steadied my waist, and I felt

and fear inside me began

was even redder than mine. The elevator doors slid open before I could react and push him

surprise before quickly turning away to say, "Dr. Hilton, the

exhaling deeply. It seemed the person who came was the same driver who drove the Rolls-Royce Phantom.

us? Is that why you were so calm?" I asked, finding it hard to believe he had resorted to such an extreme method to snap me

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