Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 593

Chapter 593

Tara pulled her hand back and took a steadying breath. "You're not wrong. You're Dylan's guy, so it's your job to follow his orders. But when you threw that smoke grenade, you almost hit Mrs. Ferguson. She matters to Dylan too, you know. Can't you try to be a little more careful?"

She couldn't help but laugh as she finished scolding him. "That slap I gave you- don't tell me it actually hurt? I barely touched you."

"It didn't hurt," he replied quietly.

Tara glanced him over, still baffled by his all-black wardrobe and the way he always kept his face hidden.

The way they met was a little strange, honestly. She'd been raised as Dylan's future wife, which meant she was always allowed anywhere in the Ferguson house. Ten years ago, she'd noticed a boy who always stuck to the shadows, wrapped up tight like he never wanted to be seen.

That was ten years ago. Now, she just pretended not to notice how much he cared about her. He was Dylan's man, after all-why not use that to her advantage?

She smirked but didn't ask about Dylan. She knew better. That would just put him on edge.

Instead, she patted him on the shoulder. "Alright, I'm not mad anymore."

"You... you're back..." His voice was soft, and he still stammered like he always did when he was nervous.

touch. But the first night she was in the Capital, he'd come to find her,

you saw me that night," she said, her tone light. "I could feel you standing

eyes never

him, she knew he was someone special-and his

a small smile playing at her

gestured to the driver to get moving, but she still found time to give Tara some advice. "Some things just can't be rushed, dear. But you

Ferguson, I'm not worried about Clara. She's just a pretty face.

knew Dylan's secret. That

Ferguson's eyes

took Tara's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're such a wonderful girl. I don't know what the Warren family did, but they

that, Mrs. Ferguson. You're going to live a long, long

car filled with easy laughter

*

family chapel, the mood was completely different-cold

chapel itself was huge, about five thousand square feet, with an air of solemn history. The Fergusons had been a household name for over a century. Two generations

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