Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

As the pill dissolved in her mouth, Clara leaned wearily against the wall, feeling soft as if she'd just been fished out of a pool. She wanted to tell Dylan she couldn't cook for him tonight or go out for dinner, but the words wouldn't come.

Fleeting memories flickered through her mind, reminding her of how she always struggled during this time of the month. Back then, she would curl up alone on the couch, quietly waiting for the pain to pass. But now, she had someone by her side.

She felt sweat trickling down her body, pooling in waves. A cool, damp washcloth brushed across her forehead, and in her weakened state, she instinctively leaned into the comforting chill. Her fingers found Dylan's hand, and she nestled against his palm, seeking solace.noveldrama

Dylan held the washcloth, not pulling away. Her face was pale. In her vulnerable state, she was clingy, but once she recovered, she would become distant again. His hand slowly opened, cradling half her face. She nuzzled against his hand for what felt like five long minutes before finally letting go.

Dylan got up to adjust the air conditioning, but Clara's hand caught his wrist. Her consciousness was already fading, and her fingertips felt damp against his skin. "I'm not leaving," he reassured her, patting her hand gently. Only then did Clara release her grip, drifting off to sleep beside him.

Dylan closed the window, leaving the curtains open. Then he turned to find a blanket and gently draped it over her. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Aiden's voice floated in. "Sir, the meeting starts in half an hour."

He had planned on staying for dinner, but they were running late now. He had an overseas conference call scheduled for later. "Bring the laptop and the Bluetooth headset in here."

The laptop was set up beside him, and he donned the headset, ready to conduct the meeting right there. Aiden waited outside the apartment complex in case anything happened. As the meeting began, the overseas executives noticed Dylan's voice was unusually low, as if he couldn't speak loudly. They strained to hear him, but no one dared to ask him to speak up.

Midway through the meeting, another knock came at the door. This time, it was Simon, notorious for his brusque attitude towards Clara. His pounding was loud and insistent. Everyone in the meeting heard it, but no one commented, pretending nothing had happened.

Dylan's brow furrowed as he heard Simon shouting from outside. "Clara, who said you could switch departments? Why didn't you run it by me? You're getting out of hand!"

He had thought that putting Clara in a managerial role would make her more compliant, but she had simply left the department, thwarting his plans. "Clara, you need to explain yourself!"

Dylan picked up his phone and called Simon. "You have some work to sort out at the company."

Simon couldn't believe his ears. It was the first time his uncle had called him, especially about work. Though arrogant, Simon knew it was his family ties that got him a role that required no overtime at Ferguson Corporation. Still, this was a direct order from his uncle, leaving him frustrated. "Uncle Dylan, did you know Clara switched departments?"

"Yeah, anything else?"

Simon's lips pressed into a thin line, his fist clenching at his side. "I don't want her to leave. Can you make her come back?"

Dylan's hand stayed on the keyboard. The camera was on, allowing the executives to see his face. His expression remained calm, though a flicker of disdain passed through his eyes. "If that's all, I'm hanging up."

"Uncle Dylan!" Simon slammed the door in anger, waking Clara. She slowly opened her eyes, propped herself up on the sofa, and groggily asked, "What was that noise?"

In the conference room, the executives noticed that although Dylan's expression hadn't changed, the atmosphere seemed to lighten. Had a girl appeared beside him? It was late at night, so it couldn't be a female employee. Was she the future Mrs. Ferguson?

Dylan turned his head towards Clara, reassuring her, "It's nothing. Go back to sleep." Clara couldn't process anything else and drifted back into slumber.

She awoke in the middle of the night, finding herself in her bed and her clothes changed. She sat up abruptly, checking her clothes and pants. The stained clothes were gone.

Was it Dylan? Her cheeks flushed crimson at the thought. Could it be him? She hurried out of the room, but Dylan was already gone. On the table was a bowl of oatmeal.

Clara felt her whole body heat up, realizing she had been bathed as well. If Dylan had done all this, hadn't he seen everything? Her scalp tingled at the thought. Would Dylan really do such things? Change her clothes, bathe her, even...

She paced the room anxiously, eager to ask but too afraid to do so.