Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara sat on the edge of the bed while he sat on the floor, close enough for comfort-like a big, lost puppy needing a little warmth.

Her hand paused for a moment, fingers threading gently through his damp hair. With her other hand, she raised the blow dryer a bit higher.

She didn't push him away. Tonight, Dylan really did seem like a stray, drenched by the rain and desperate for somewhere to belong.

After seven minutes, his hair was finally dry.

She thought he'd let go, but he didn't.noveldrama

Clara unplugged the blow dryer and wound up the cord, not sure what to say next.

Should she nudge him away? He clearly needed comfort right now.

But if she didn't, they couldn't just stay like this forever.

She glanced at the wall clock-almost ten.

"Dylan, you should get some sleep."

He mumbled, "Mm," but still didn't move.

Clara ruffled his hair. "Come on, get some rest. We'll figure everything out together tomorrow."

He pressed his head gently against her waist, nuzzling her like he didn't want to let go. "Okay."

The closeness made her uneasy, so she stood up a little too quickly. "Alright, off to bed with you."

She needed a shower anyway-the smell of smoke clung to her clothes, and she was honestly surprised she'd managed to hold onto him for so long.

She slipped into the bathroom, avoiding her reflection, and took a quick shower. When she came out, he was already lying on the bed, quiet and still, fast asleep. Clara walked over and looked at his face, half-hidden beneath messy hair. She gently pulled the blanket up over him.

The little good luck charm sat on the nightstand, a silent reminder that he wasn't really okay, no matter how peaceful he looked.

Clara whispered, "I'll help you through this. You're not alone."

Without waiting for an answer, she climbed into the small guest bed at the side.

But of course, she couldn't sleep.

If this mess really was the old man's doing, then maybe he'd try something else. She waited for any sign from the family estate. But the night passed quietly; nothing happened at all.

And then it hit her-the old man had no plans to admit to anything.

Everyone else in the city would just see her, Clara, as the Ferguson family's bad luck charm-the one blamed for the sudden death of the deeply religious matriarch.

And if Dylan still cared about the old lady, maybe he'd start having second thoughts about their marriage too.

The old man didn't have to admit a thing. Gossip alone would be enough to get Dylan to rethink everything about Clara.

Once you got labeled as "bad luck" in

a big family, it didn't matter how capable you were-you'd be pushed out. Just like that kid years ago, the one everyone said was born under an unlucky star.

Thinking it through, Clara started to get really angry.

The old man had used every dirty trick he had-on his own favorite son.

Her mood was icy as she sat down for breakfast, glancing at Dylan, looking for any sign of how he was doing.

But ever since he'd woken up, he'd been quiet.

She felt a little guilty and put some food on his plate. "You're staying here at Palm Bay today. Don't worry about Ferguson Corporation-I'll take care of everything." "Clara."

"Yeah?"

"As long as you come back, I'll be fine."

Her hand froze for a second. "Of course I'll come back. Didn't I promise to work for you for a month? You're the one who

shouldn't overthink things. If

really worried, you can come to Ferguson Corporation and keep an eye on me."

He turned his head to look at her, his usually calm face showing just how much he cared.

He opened his mouth, hesitated, then suddenly leaned in and kissed her.

Clara had been about to say something else, but the kiss caught her totally off guard.

She shot to her feet, grabbing her bag. "I'm heading to Ferguson Corporation. If you need anything, call me, okay? And don't just sit around here overthinking. I'm

off."

He sat back down, staring at his bowl in silence.

At the door, as she was putting on her shoes, she heard him say, "Come home

early."

She froze for a second. "Okay," she managed to say, then hurried out.

Even in the car, her cheeks still felt warm.

Seriously, why did Dylan always have to catch her off guard like that?