Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 118

Chapter 118

Clara hung up the phone with a decisive click. Only someone like that could see Simon as a gem.

She headed back to Dylan's bedroom, surprised to find the lights already off. For a second, she thought about

slipping out and finding a spot to crash for the night. But then a gust of wind blew in from the balcony, and she

realized Dylan was out there, not in bed.

Even before she got close, she caught a whiff of smoke. "Mr. Dylan, isn't smoking bad for your leg?" she asked

with genuine concern. Wasn't he still recovering?

The dim glow from the garden cast long shadows, making it tough to see his face clearly. Still, she picked up on

something in his eyes—a silent yearning, an unspoken wait that tugged at her heart.

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Maybe visiting Shelly's grave had him feeling down.

She stood beside him, unsure of what to say. Dylan's presence was subtle, like a breeze-hard to pin down, yet

unforgettable.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clara noticed the cigarette perilously close to his fingers. "It's about to burn your

fingers," she quickly warned.

Dylan continued to stare into the distance, slowly dropping the cigarette into the ashtray. A red mark on his

fingers showed he'd been burned.

Clara instinctively grabbed his wrist and gently blew on the spot. "Is there a first aid kit? Any burn cream? I'll find

some."

She had to tilt her head up to look at him because of their height difference. Dylan's Adam's apple bobbed as he

attempted to pull his hand back, but she held on tight.

"Mr. Dylan, don't know what's on your mind, but you shouldn't treat yourself like this. And about your insomnia-

I'll arrange for a specialist to sort out sremedies. Hope you won't mind."

Just as she finished, he asked, "Are you this kind to everyone?"

Clara paused, unsure how to answer. Since she'd known him, Dylan had been a puzzle. He didn't seem to hate

her, but he was a man of principles. As long as she didn't push boundaries, he wouldn't lord his authority over

her. He'd even looked after her during tough times, which was more than most would do.

Before she knew it, he'd pulled his hand away. "Get ssleep," he said, turning back inside, flicking on the

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bedside lamp, and settling into bed.

Clara lingered a moment, realizing she'd spent quite a while in Dylan's room. But she genuinely didn't know

where else to go, so she flopped onto the nearby couch.

Jackson had once joked she was like a sleeping pill for Dylan. If her presence could really help with his insomnia,

she was more than willing.

After about ten minutes, she tiptoed over to find him already asleep. She wondered if he ever really had trouble

sleeping.

Back on the couch, she found it wide enough for one. Once she dozed off, Dylan shifted slightly in bed, his gaze

lingering on her. He watched for a

long while before finally closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep too.

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