Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel 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?”

Dylan paused, grip tightening on 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 before finishing her meal. She was about to make her exit when she noticed Dylan getting ready too.

They were both heading to the office. It seemed a bit over-the-top to avoid each other now. She lingered by the door until he arrived, then quietly pushed his wheelchair.

When they got to the car, Clara aimed to take the driver’s seat, only to find Aiden already there. So, she settled in the back.

Once they arrived at the Ferguson Corporation’s underground garage, she hopped out first to open Dylan’s door, but Aiden beat her to it.

Aiden’s voice was firm. “Ms. Clara, you should head on up.”

Clearly, a professional distance was being enforced.

Clara caught the hint and made her way upstairs solo. No point in letting Aiden’s dislike get under her skin.

Simon’s face darkened, and he grabbed her wrist. “Follow you?

He saw Clara were with Dylan in the same car and followed her out of shock. Then he found out that she went to Palm Bay.”

Clara used to avoid Dylan like the plague, and would never set foot in Palm Bay. But now she had, and she’d stayed the night.

Simon had waited outside the whole time, sleepless. Now he noticed the marks on her neck.

Like a cat whose tail was stepped on, Simon suddenly yanked down her collar. “Clara?! What’s this?! What did you do?!”

Startled, Clara shielded her neckline.

Simon’s face burned with anger, his whole body trembling. “Did you throw yourself at him? How could you be so shameless? Are you that desperate?”

“Slap!”

Her hand flew, leaving a vivid red imprint on his cheek.

Dylan’s wheelchair rolled to a stop behind Simon. He seemed oblivious to the drama, yet he paused, taking it all in with an unreadable expression.