Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 598

Clara kept turning it over in her mind. This can't be, she thought. It just can't.

Did Z already know she was married?

The second the idea hit her, she went cold all over. She struggled to open her eyes, but something heavy pressed her down, like she was still trapped inside that burning furnace.

"Don't be mad, okay? The bracelet's still here," she mumbled, trying to coax him— and herself back to calm. Sleepiness tugged at her, making her words soft and slow.

But when everything was over, Clara felt... off. Unsatisfied.

It was like he hadn't really tried tonight.

She was kind of annoyed about it, honestly. Everything had ended so quickly, she barely even had time to react.

A warm towel slid over her skin. Maybe sensing her mood, the man's voice was calm, almost gentle.

"Your health isn't great."

Oh.

So he was still worried about her, after all.

Clara let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and shot back, "As long as it's not because you can't, that's fine."

The towel paused in his hand. He laughed, low and quiet.

Clara didn't hear him. In her own little fantasy, she imagined she'd managed to make it up to Z. She pictured him soothed, forgiving her, and she drifted off into the best sleep she'd had in ages, a small smile tugging at her lips.

her fever still hadn't gone down. Once her mind started spinning again, all she could do was stress

head pound. She felt like she'd been thrown right

as the sun was

in forever. She stretched out,

finish, a hand gently pressed her arm back

was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking immaculate. His suit was perfectly tailored and every single button on his shirt was done all

few seconds, then remembered her shoulder-no wonder it hurt

she realized this wasn't her own room. It was Dylan's

blanket with him. She had no idea how she'd ever

breath, feeling a bit

good. I've been hogging your bed the past few

probably never even crossed her mind that

he looked away, his lashes casting a shadow over

frowned. Why did he always look so

off the covers and got out of bed. She felt better,

Sorry-I must've wandered in here that night, still

was as clueless

just sat there,

back to her own room, collapsed onto her

sleeping for days, and now that your fever's broken, we thought we'd make you some soup

closed, but her

housekeeper practically beamed. It was the first time Mrs. Ferguson had ever actually asked for soup herself. She

been sweating a lot, but now she just felt fresh and comfortable. Too lazy to care, she snuggled into her pillow

bed. The sheets in the master had already been changed the night before, when her fever finally

over the pillow,