Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 119

When Clara woke up, a cozy warmth wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. It took her a moment to realize she was already snuggled up in bed. She quickly got up, dashed to the bathroom, and splashed some cold water on her face. That was when she noticed a red mark on her neck. Leaning closer to the mirror, she rubbed at it furiously, but it wouldn't budge. Fancy that, even rich folks had mosquito problems.

She spotted a brand-new toothbrush waiting for her, so she freshened up and headed downstairs. It was the crack of dawn, just six o'clock, but breakfast was already laid out. Dylan was by the floor-to-ceiling windows, deep in a phone conversation.

Clara didn't want to interrupt, so she thought she'd just nod to the housekeeper and quietly slip away. But she didn't get far.

"Ms. Clara, please have some breakfast before you leave. Mr. Ferguson made a point of it," the housekeeper insisted.

Clara felt a warm flutter in her chest. Dylan had a frosty demeanor but really had a soft side.

"Has he eaten yet?" she inquired.

"No, he said he'd wait to share breakfast with you."

She took a seat at the dining table, expecting a long wait, but no sooner had she sat down than Dylan ended his call. He maneuvered his wheelchair over and started eating silently.

Clara thought about wishing him a good morning but hesitated when she sensed he wasn't in a chatty mood. Her hand dropped back down.

Maybe it was her imagination, but Dylan's ears looked a bit red, like he'd caught a touch of embarrassment. It was strange, for someone who always seemed so composed, like a noble figure in an oil painting, to have rosy ears.

She shrugged off the thought, intent on finishing her breakfast when the housekeeper piped up beside her. "Ms. Clara, what happened to your neck?"

his fork, before calmly continuing with his toast. Clara touched her neck absentmindedly. "Oh, probably just mosquitoes last night." The housekeeper handed her a small bottle of ointment. "Try some of this." "Thanks," Clara said, applying a bit

avoid each other now. She lingered by the door until he arrived,

seat,

Corporation's underground garage, she hopped out

was firm. "Ms. Clara, you should head

a professional distance was being

her way upstairs solo. No point in

she ran into Simon, sporting some serious dark circles.

rolling her eyes as she sat at her desk. But it wasn't long before he was tapping on

racing last night, busted his leg, and now he's in the hospital. Naomi

couldn't help but worry about

myself. No need for drama,"

and yet she always smelled so captivating. He took

she heard the familiar sound of a wheelchair-Dylan had arrived. From Dylan's viewpoint, she and Simon seemed almost

mischievous grin, leaned even closer, his cheek

away, but

at Palm Bay

rigid with surprise-how did he know that? Unless he'd had someone

me followed?"