Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara had been calling for half an hour, her voice nearly gone, but there was still no response from downstairs.

Frustrated, she pulled back.

Dylan's hand was still on her waist. When he saw how flushed and annoyed she looked, his eyes flickered and he turned away. "The bathroom's big enough. Just sit."

He wasn't wrong—the bathroom really was huge, with a couple of spots that almost looked comfortable enough to hang out in.

But honestly, who wanted to sit around in a bathroom?

Clara picked a random spot and sat down, leaning her back against the wall.

Dylan sat next to her, eyes closed.

The silence was unbearable. Clara had always felt awkward around Dylan, and now it was worse than ever.

The wedding ring on his hand was a constant reminder-they were married, whether she liked it or not.

She took a deep breath and quietly scooted a little farther away from him.

Dylan didn't react. He just sat there, silent and still.

Clara couldn't take the weird tension anymore. She slowly stood up, but her hand accidentally brushed the bathroom's light switch. Suddenly, the room went pitch black.

She reached out, trying to find the switch again, but then heard Dylan's voice- soft and frail. "Turn the light on."

His tone caught her off guard. He sounded so... weak.

Clara quickly flipped the lights back on and hurried to his side. She noticed a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.

A wave of guilt hit her. Was Dylan... actually afraid of the dark?

"Mr. Dylan, you..." she started, but stopped herself. Instead, she grabbed a tissue and gently wiped his forehead.

Suddenly, Dylan grabbed her hand, holding it tight and staring deep into her face.

Clara froze. She remembered now-Dylan always left a lamp on when he slept. The night she'd barged into his room, all the lights had been on. Was he really afraid of the dark?

But after everything he'd been through, it was hard to believe he'd let himself have such an obvious weakness.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was an accident," she whispered, feeling bad.

His lips looked pale. He shook his head and slowly let go of her hand.

Clara sat back down beside him, but now she didn't dare move.

Dylan and Z really were opposites-one seemed to love the darkness, and the other couldn't stand it.

She'd barely gotten comfortable when Dylan's head suddenly dropped onto her shoulder.

Clara turned, surprised, and saw

Vol

he'd already fallen asleep. His eyelashes were ridiculously long, and from this angle, she could see his sharp nose and thin lips.

She didn't dare move. Quietly, she dabbed away the sweat on his nose with a tissue, then closed her own eyes.

Two hours later, the bedroom door finally creaked open. Clara had almost dozed off herself.

She looked up to see Aiden standing in the doorway, looking kind of shocked. "Ma'am, you two..." he started.

Clara felt like she'd just been rescued. For a second there,noveldrama

thought she'd be trapped in Shenet

bathroom with Dylan all night.

Thank

god.

"Aiden, where have you been? I've been calling for you forever! Come help-Mr. Dylan fell asleep."

As she said it, she suddenly realized Dylan was holding her hand.

Confused, she looked down-their fingers were laced together, way too intimate.

She jerked her hand away like she'd touched something hot.

As soon as Aiden came over, she jumped up, hiding her hand behind her back and rubbing it nervously.

The warmth from Dylan's hand still lingered. She kind of regretted

it-how had she ended up fallire

asleep next to him?

Aiden helped Dylan back to bed, but because of his injury, he couldn't lie down. "Ma'am, do you want to stay and look after the boss?" Aiden asked.

Clara was already halfway out the door. Her shoulder was still numb from Dylan leaning on her. She forced a smile.

"You take care of him. I just want to go to bed. He managed fine before I was here."

Before Aiden could say anything else, Clara slipped out and escaped to her own room next door.

As soon as she left, Dylan slowly opened his eyes and shifted onto his side. Aiden didn't say a word. He just left a lamp on and quietly stepped out.

Clara took a shower, but her shoulder still felt a little numb.

Lying in bed, she felt strangely restless.

She held her hand up to the light, staring at it over and over, but didn't see anything different.

When had he even taken her hand?