Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 782

When the meeting wrapped up, Dylan was the first to stand and head for the door.

No one in the Ferguson Corporation boardroom really knew what was going on with him. The CEO's wife had said he'd be staying home to recover for a month, so why was he already back at the office after just two weeks? And not just back he was running things himself.

Nobody dared to ask. Everyone just quietly assumed it was because he missed his wife.

Conlan came over and matched Dylan's pace. "Sir, you've got another meeting in thirty minutes. Need me to push it back?"

Dylan frowned, his voice quiet. "Why would we do that?"

Conlan glanced at Clara, who was waiting by the glass doors outside. He hesitated for a second. "Mrs. Ferguson made you breakfast. I figured you'd want more than half an hour to eat."

Dylan's gaze shifted to Clara.

She caught his eye and smiled at him-warm and reassuring.

For some reason, he looked away, his lashes dropping. It took him a few seconds before he finally said, "Move it back twenty minutes."

Conlan couldn't hide a knowing grin. He'd never thought he'd see the day-Dylan had been acting like a machine lately, but Mrs. Ferguson was apparently the only one who could get him to change his schedule.

Clara was waiting by the door for him. When Dylan came out, she met him with a soft smile.

It's breakfast time," she

the insulated lunchbox in her

smile faltered for a moment, a hint of disappointment

someone else do it..." He almost asked if she had work to get to, but she'd shown up with meals four days in a row, always on time. She

like it, though, keep doing it," he added, not quite sure how to navigate

his stride. "If there's anything you want to eat, just tell

they were in his office, Dylan closed

He paused. What did

days-everything tasted the same. That was why

kept his eyes down, randomly naming a

on the sofa, lunchbox in

out chopsticks

shining. "I made

cooked it until it's super it should go great with the

of tomato sauce into his

his gaze settling on her face. "..." He wanted to tell her the truth-that he couldn't taste anything.

he just lowered his head and

"Well? Is it good?"

a

relieved. She'd tweaked the recipe and,

She sat