Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara's chest rose and fell with frustration as she turned to leave, only to hear him call out behind her.

"Clara."

She stopped in her tracks, annoyance written all over her face.

"What is it?"

"I'll take responsibility for you. From now on—"

She cut him off before he could finish. "There is no 'from now on' for us."

He just nodded. "Alright."

He watched her walk away, echoing her words softly, then fell quiet.

It was just a dream, but Clara could feel her irritation smoldering, like there was a fire burning under her skin.noveldrama

Take responsibility for what, exactly? she wondered.

The dream shifted, scenes fading back to that steamy, smoky pool-everything around her dreamy and blurred. She was breathless from his kiss, her eyes unfocused as she looked up at him.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, I know."

He didn't seem convinced. "Really?"

She nodded again, more firmly this time. "Mhm."

He looked at her with a kind of tense restraint, like he was holding something

back, not sure if he should believe her.

"You really know I'm-"

She stopped his words with a kiss.

Honestly, she had no clue what he was talking about. He just looked so good-too good not to kiss.

So this is what it's like to take advantage of someone, she thought.

Well, she was drunk anyway.

Clara rolled over on the couch, her dream picking up right where it left off. She slapped him, her mood turning even worse.

A guy with a little ponytail piped up, "Why not just get rid of him? Can you believe he'd treat you like that? Older guys always chasing after younger women."

Dylan was four years older than she was.

She seemed to consider it for a second, then rubbed her temples.

"Let's just call it a dog bite and move on."

But this dog wasn't giving up that easily.

Clara jolted awake, staring at the ceiling before slowly sitting up. Her throat felt like sandpaper, so she scrambled off the couch to get some water. She clutched the glass, downed three big gulps of cold water, and only then did the burning in her throat ease up.

She massaged her temples and looked around, confused.

Palm Bay?

Footsteps echoed in the hallway as a housekeeper came downstairs. When she saw Clara, her voice was full of concern.

"Ma'am, can't sleep?"

Clara slowly set her glass down. The

water seemed to stir up whatever medicine was still in her system, making her head fuzzy again. She couldn't figure out why she was

even at Palm Bay, her mind

bouncing between random

memories and confusion?

The housekeeper turned on the lights and immediately noticed how pale Clara

looked. She hurried off and came back with some painkillers.

"Are you feeling alright? Maybe take these. I'll call Mr. Ferguson."

"No, it's fine."

For a moment, Clara's eyes cleared, but then they turned hazy again.

"No need to call him. He's probably busy."

The housekeeper sighed, but after Clara went upstairs, she quietly called Dylan anyway.

That night, Dylan was still at work,

finalizing details for a big birthday

party with his team. By

o'clock

they'd ironed out the last of the plans and the old house was already getting decorated. The party was in two days, and invitations had just gone out. Content bétongs to

He hadn't gone back to Palm Bay, staying late at Ferguson Corporation instead.

When his phone rang, his laptop screen was still glowing.

He answered, and the housekeeper's anxious voice came through.

"Sir, Mrs. Ferguson doesn't seem well."

He tensed, then hung up and called Clara right away.

Her voice was soft when she answered. "Hey, honey."

Relief flooded him, and he let out a quiet breath.

"Are you okay? Not feeling well?"

"You finally picked up. I had a nightmare-I dreamt I hit you..."

She tried to remember more, but her mind felt muddled, like her body was working

against her.

"Sorry. I don't know why I hit you-hit you so hard."

Dylan lowered his gaze, his voice gentle.

"Are you feeling any better now?"

"A bit. I just can't sleep. Where are you? Can't you come home?"

No matter what, hearing the word "home" always softened him a little. But thinking

of something, he looked out the window.

The city lights were still bright, even after midnight, but there was always a corner of his heart that felt dark.

"I'm not coming back tonight. If you see me, I'm afraid you'll just have more nightmares."

Clara went quiet. She knew he was still upset.

She held her phone tightly, but neither of them hung up.

Clara wasn't one to dwell on bad feelings. After a few minutes, just hearing his voice made everything else fade away. She rolled over in bed, whispering softly,

"Goodnight, honey."

She fell asleep almost instantly, still holding her phone. Dylan could hear her breathing, calm and steady.

After a while, her breaths turned slow and even-like a kitten curled up without a care in the world.

He stared at his glowing laptop, leaned back in his chair, and just listened to the sound of her sleeping.