Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

The old lady sat up front, watching the city lights slip by, her sigh barely audible over the hum of the car.

"New York's changed so much. The Ferguson Corporation, too," she said softly.

Clara didn't answer that. Instead, she asked, "And if Tara won't let go?"

"She's always listened since she was little. Come on, let's pick her up. We'll go together."

Clara shot her a look. Someone who could leak those kinds of photos-could she really just walk away that easily? Maybe she'd underestimated what people were capable of.

They picked Tara up at six, just as the sun was going down. Tara slid into the back seat, her eyes landing right on Clara behind the wheel. No matter how much Tara might hate her, she didn't show it. She just asked, “Ma'am, are we heading to the temple now?"

The old lady nodded. "Sorry to trouble you both. Tara, I have something I want to discuss with you, too."

Tara's face was all calm respect, not a hint of emotion. "I know. We can talk when we get there."

Clara glimpsed Tara's eyes in the rearview mirror. Their gazes met, both of them unreadable.

Halfway up the mountain, Clara's phone rang. Dylan.

She answered. "When are you coming home?" he asked.

"I'll be late tonight. Did you remember to eat?"

Hearing her worry for him right off the bat, Dylan's lips twitched in a faint smile. "Yeah."

"I'll be back before nine. Just go ahead and have dinner, okay?"

He already knew about the mess at Ferguson Corporation. Still, her voice warmed him right through. "Come home soon, then."

Clara felt her cheeks heat up, especially with the other two in the car. She just murmured, "Okay," and hung up.

The old lady chuckled, "He's so gentle with you. With others, even family, he barely shows a flicker of emotion."

Clara kept her eyes on the road and didn't answer.

In the back, Tara sat in the shadows, her face twisted with jealousy. She knew Dylan was into Clara-she'd seen it, that night in the private. room the way he'd lost control t had nearly driven her mad. Hearing his voice now, so gentle, so different from the way he spoke to her, made her want to scream. Every soft side of Dylan, he only ever showed Clara.

Why? Why her? Tara had known him the longest. But none of that seemed to matter.

Her chest ached, especially with her uncle's situation still all over the

news. He'd asked her to talk to Richard, and she'd tried, calling him that evening, dropping hints, but Richard wouldn't budge. He was arrogant, sure, but when it came to serious business, he played it straight. That's how the Warren family had earned their reputation.

Tara shoved down the jealousy, her eyes locked on Clara's silhouette. If only this woman would just disappear. Why did Clara have to keep getting between her and Dylan?

She took a deep breath and forced herself to let it go for now. The old lady was here tonight; she couldn't afford to lose her cool. If she wanted to go after Clara, she'd just have to do it quietly.

After more than two hours winding up the mountain, they finally parked beneath the temple. The sky was already dark. The old lady didn't make Clara climb the thousand steps; instead, they all took the elevator.

Clara stared up at the temple, towering and solemn, the kind of place that almost made you believe in something. But faith had never been her thing.

They met a monk at the top, who quietly greeted them. The old lady nodded, then turned to Clara. "I've already spoken with the master. Tonight, I'd like us to offer incense together. Clara, could you do the honors?"

Clara nodded and stepped forward, lighting a stick of incense. Tara knelt beside her, the old lady in the center. The old lady pressed her palms together, bowing her head. Clara and Tara mirrored her.

After a moment, the old lady took a deep breath. “Clara, I want you to swear before Buddha that you'll never hurt Dylan."

Clara froze, caught off guard. She clutched the incense, unsure. "Ma'am, what do you mean by 'hurt'?"

The old lady's tone softened. "No

matter what happens, promise me you'll treat Dylan well. He really loves you. I believe you'll feel it, if you let yourself. If there are ever

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misunderstandings, remember what I'm telling you now-be good to him. He isn't great with words always keeps things bottled up. I can't always read him, but I just want him to be happy, at least a little."

Clara squeezed the incense between her fingers. The promise didn't seem unreasonable. She closed her eyes and nodded.

"I promise."