Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 112

The archive room at Ferguson Corporation was massive, stretching over about three thousand square feet. Clara walked in, broom in hand, ready to spend a fair bit of time cleaning. But as soon as she stepped inside, she realized the place was spotless as it was tended to daily by a dedicated crew. There wasn't a speck of dust in sight.

Feeling a bit cheeky, she grabbed a book, plopped it over her face, and settled in for a guilt-free nap. She'd been snoozing when someone gently lifted the book off her face.

Clara rubbed sleep from her eyes and looked up to find Dylan standing over her. She jolted awake, startled. Dylan glanced at the book's cover and, with his deep, magnetic voice, read out, "Living with Your Boss?"

Oh, great.

How on earth did a book like that end up here? She'd only grabbed it to block the light and never even checked the title! It was probably something left behind by the cleaning crew.

Clara's cheeks went crimson, embarrassment prickling her scalp. She rushed to explain, "That's not my book."

The archive room's door was closed, and Dylan, having stepped away from his wheelchair, was standing right beside her, basked in the warm afternoon sun.

As his elegant fingers flipped open a page, Clara felt even more flustered. From the title alone, she could guess the content was scandalous. She hastily snatched the book and tossed it aside. "Mr. Dylan, a book like that would just corrupt your eyes. Better not to read it."

Dylan, in his sharp black suit, took in her flushed face and looked away. "I asked you to clean, not nap."

quickly bent

his wheelchair, his demeanor calm and composed, though his tone was cool. "Come with

asked, a bit taken

"Yes."

to push his wheelchair.

when the boss gave an order like that, she had no choice but to follow. Besides, she wasn't dumb; getting on good terms with Dylan

parking lot, she figured Aiden

driver's

she asked, "Am I

seated in the back, eyes

boss act as

the driver's seat. "I'll drive, of

"West Hill Cemetery."

a chill running

some

Shelly recently, and apparently,