Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 12

Simon tilted his head, disbelief washing over his face as his grip slackened for a moment. He touched his cheek, taking a few moments to process what had just happened. Clara had never slapped him before; she'd always preferred to bear the brunt of any pain herself rather than let him suffer. Just now, she had embarrassed him in front of everyone in the lounge.

He had a faint sense that something had shifted. But then Clara asked, "Does it hurt?" That question reignited his confidence. She was just putting on an act and trying to catch his attention! Of course, Clara was head over heels for him; she couldn't possibly leave him!

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Let's see how long you can keep this up."

Clara leaned against the wall, waiting until she was alone before rubbing her uneasy stomach. When he had grabbed her throat earlier, she had almost thrown up. The alcohol she had consumed was now wreaking havoc. Her stomach was bloated and aching.

She quickly changed her clothes and barely stepped out of the Moonlight's grand entrance when a forceful grip yanked her back. Colton kicked her in the stomach, malice etched on his face. "Weren't you so smug just a moment ago?"

Clara wiped the corner of her mouth, a bit amused. Colton had lost five million in the lounge, and was now ambushing her here. Truly pathetic. Anyone hanging out with Simon was the same-trash.

her scalp. "Clara, you're nothing compared to Quinn. You're trash. What if I threw you onto Nate's bed? He'd be thrilled; he's been lusting after you for ages. Quinn said you

struck. He looked down at the disheveled Clara in his grip with a cold sneer

scalp burned, and her stomach ached. Colton didn't

At least Colton was right. Even with her memory gone, Clara was painfully aware that she was indeed a nobody,

her stomach, she stood by the roadside, trying to hail a cab back to her rented place. A luxurious stretch limo pulled up in front of her. The window rolled down to reveal an astonishingly handsome face. The man's features were chiseled to perfection, exuding an air of nobility and indifference. His dark eyes reflected her current disheveled state,

in person, and she was terrified, cold sweat quickly forming on her back. Her instincts couldn't lie; she must have kept a respectful distance from this man

the urge to flee, and politely greeted him,

do you live? I'll take

so afraid of this man? She needed to find

a courteous bow, opened the car door, and immediately noticed the wheelchair beside her. That overwhelming panic spread again, and her fingertips involuntarily curled. Just how frightened of Dylan had she been before? Even with her