Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

When the meeting wrapped up, Dylan was the first to stand and head for the door.

No one in the Ferguson Corporation boardroom really knew what was going on with him. The CEO's wife had said he'd be staying home to recover for a month, so why was he already back at the office after just two weeks? And not just back he was running things himself.

Nobody dared to ask. Everyone just quietly assumed it was because he missed his wife.

Conlan came over and matched Dylan's pace. "Sir, you've got another meeting in thirty minutes. Need me to push it back?"

Dylan frowned, his voice quiet. "Why would we do that?"

Conlan glanced at Clara, who was waiting by the glass doors outside. He hesitated for a second. "Mrs. Ferguson made you breakfast. I figured you'd want more than half an hour to eat."

Dylan's gaze shifted to Clara.

She caught his eye and smiled at him-warm and reassuring.

For some reason, he looked away, his lashes dropping. It took him a few seconds before he finally said, "Move it back twenty minutes."

Conlan couldn't hide a knowing grin. He'd never thought he'd see the day-Dylan had been acting like a machine lately, but Mrs. Ferguson was apparently the only one who could get him to change his schedule.

Clara was waiting by the door for him. When Dylan came out, she met him with a soft smile.

"Hungry? It's breakfast time," she said.

He glanced down at the insulated lunchbox in her hand. “You don't have to keep doing this."

Her smile faltered for a moment, a hint of disappointment in her eyes.

He walked a few steps ahead. "You could just have someone else do it..." He almost asked if she had work to get to, but she'd shown up with meals four days in a row, always on time. She definitely didn't seem too busy.

"If you like it, though, keep doing it," he added, not quite sure how to navigate this. Women were a mystery to him.

That was all Clara needed to hear. She brightened instantly, matching his stride. "If there's anything you want to eat, just tell me. I'll bring it for lunch later."

Once they were in his office, Dylan closed the door and took the lunchbox from her.

"I..." He paused. What did he even want to eat?

He honestly couldn't tell the difference these days-everything tasted the same. That was why he'd wanted her to stop bringing food.

He kept his eyes down, randomly naming a few dishes. Clara remembered every single one.

Dylan sat on the sofa, lunchbox in hand.

Clara set out chopsticks for him, her

eyes shining. "I made tomato stew

today cooked it until it's super it should go great with the rice."

She scooped a generous serving of tomato sauce into his bowl.

He looked up, his gaze settling on her face. "..." He wanted to tell her the truth-that he couldn't taste anything. But something held him back.

So he just lowered his head and started eating in silence.

"Well? Is it good?"

He murmured a quiet "Yeah."

Clara let out a breath, relieved. She'd tweaked the recipe and, honestly, she thought she was getting pretty good at this.

She sat

slowly ate. "Has your stomach been hurting lately? Any flare-ups? Have

young men to him, watching as he

been going to bed before ten?"

Every question was personal-maybe a little too personal for someone like Dylan. Normally, he wouldn't have answered.

But his chopsticks paused, and he actually thought about his routine.

He was doing pretty well, actually.

"Yeah."

Eating on time, sleeping on time. If he didn't, Aiden would always remind him at ten sharp.noveldrama

Clara relaxed and smiled. "Good. I was worried you weren't listening to me anymore."

Dylan held his chopsticks, wanting to say her name, but for a second, he blanked.

So he just closed his mouth and stayed quiet.