Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 17

Clara only realized her clothes were a mess, but was completely unaware of the mark left on her neck. Her skin was naturally pale, and after her little spat with Simon, her cheeks were a bit flushed.

Noticing Dylan's wheelchair was unattended, she quickly stepped up. "Mr. Dylan," she called, her hands gently gripping the wheelchair. Her voice was earnest. "Are you heading back to the top floor? I can take you."

"Move aside."

"Sorry, what?"

She thought she must've misheard. But no, Dylan just maneuvered his wheelchair past her without a second glance. Clara stood there, finally getting the hint that she wasn't needed.

With a deep breath, she shrugged it off and decided not to push her luck. She made her way to her desk, which-lucky her-was conveniently close to Simon's office.

The Ferguson family had a bunch of younger members in this generation. Although Dylan was technically Simon's senior, they were actually the same age. Every junior member was required to do an internship at Ferguson Corporation. Dylan, born to Walter later in life, was a natural prodigy, and had been set up as the heir early on.

That role came with its fair share of risks, but Dylan had always managed to stay out of harm's way. That is, until an accident two years ago left him in a wheelchair. Many assumed this would knock him off the heir track, but the patriarch stayed mum, and the family remained in a state of quiet turmoil.

shot her a sneer. "Still pretending

girl approached and dumped a mountain of files on her desk. "You're the newbie, right? Get these sorted by

hidden. Clara didn't say a word, and just opened the first file and got to work. A few people nearby whispered

Why's she in the

he despises her? How does

slap any girl who gets close to Mr. Simon. What's HR thinking, letting

to hear and kept her head down. She finished the files by nine that night. The office

was supposed to have dinner with you, but Quinn had a fever, so I

late, Clara felt her temper flare. Simon adjusted his tie, exuding arrogance. "Well, it's late, and

keys and made for the door, but Simon caught her wrist, tilting her chin

goosebumps rise. "Simon,

stepped back, suddenly wary. "Are you gonna kick me again? Clara, are you done with this yet? I'm still interested,

flicker of emotion on her

a cold laugh, brushing past him. "You still smell like Quinn's