Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 72

When Clara woke up, the sunlight streaming through the window hit her eyes like a spotlight. Everything around her felt unfamiliar, wrapped in understated

elegance. She sat up in bed, gingerly touching her forehead, feeling the ache beneath the bandage wrapped around it.

The bedroom was spacious, every corner whispering luxury. Suddenly, the memory of the last face she saw before passing out hit her-Dylan. Sure enough, there he was at the door, still in his wheelchair, carefully balancing a bowl of oatmeal as he wheeled over and placed it on the bedside table.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice calm yet concerned.

It was hard not to feel a rush of gratitude. Just last night, she thought she might not make it. "Yeah. Is your leg okay?" Even though her memory was foggy, she remembered him kicking a man away, risking his own recovery. If anything happened to his leg, she'd feel guilty forever.

"It's fine," he reassured her, lifting the bowl and handing it to her.

as she took it with both hands. Dylan turned away, his tone

it was already the next day. The thought of last night's trouble, all thanks to Jade, darkened her

said, sipping the oatmeal

more relaxed clothes, shedding his usual aloofness for a softer look. Clara quickly finished her oatmeal and got out

your leg?" she offered. After all, he had risked his injury to help her and even brought her to his home. Despite her lingering apprehension, she couldn't

glance. He was an enigma. In a suit, he seemed so distant,

the city harbored secret crushes on

"Sure," he agreed.

She wasn't lying about knowing how to massage. Even with

bit intimate. Her fingers slowly worked their way up, getting close to the top of his thigh.

was steady, though his thumb brushed her wrist lightly. Clara's face turned crimson,