Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 118

Clara hung up the phone with a decisive click. Only someone like that could see Simon as a gem.

She headed back to Dylan's bedroom, surprised to find the lights already off. For a second, she thought about slipping out and finding a spot to crash for the night. But then a gust of wind blew in from the balcony, and she realized Dylan was out there, not in bed.

Even before she got close, she caught a whiff of smoke. "Mr. Dylan, isn't smoking bad for your leg?" she asked with genuine concern. Wasn't he still recovering?

The dim glow from the garden cast long shadows, making it tough to see his face clearly. Still, she picked up on something in his eyes—a silent yearning, an unspoken wait that tugged at her heart.

Maybe visiting Shelly's grave had him feeling down.

She stood beside him, unsure of what to say. Dylan's presence was subtle, like a breeze-hard to pin down, yet unforgettable.

noticed the cigarette perilously close to his fingers. "It's about to burn your fingers,"

cigarette into the ashtray. A red mark on

gently blew on the spot. "Is there a first aid kit? Any burn cream? I'll find

her head up to look at him because of their height difference. Dylan's Adam's apple bobbed as he

what's on your mind, but you shouldn't treat yourself like this. And about your insomnia-I'll arrange for a specialist to

asked, "Are you this

she'd known him, Dylan had been a puzzle. He didn't seem to hate her, but he was a man of principles. As

sleep," he said, turning back

But she genuinely didn't