Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run
Chapter 98

He was so anxious it felt like he was on fire, darting toward the nearby elevator, desperate to catch up. The thought of Dylan hurting Clara sent shivers down his spine.

Meanwhile, inside the distant elevator, Clara could sense something was off with Dylan. Just as she was about to speak, the elevator gave a violent jolt. Her thoughts immediately jumped to Dylan's leg, and she instinctively reached out for his wheelchair.

"Mr. Dylan!" she called out, her voice tinged with concern as the elevator lights flickered before plunging them into darkness. Quickly, she fumbled for her phone, using its light to check on him. Dylan sat there with his head bowed, his emotions hidden behind a stoic facade.

"Mr. Dylan, are you alright?" she asked, her hand resting gently on his knee as she peered up at him with worry etched on her face. In the dim light, Dylan's eyes were unreadable.

Suddenly, he reached out and gripped her chin. Clara was startled, frozen by the intensity of his presence, and momentarily forgetting to react. For a fleeting moment, she envisioned a deep abyss behind Dylan. She felt like she were being drawn into it alongside him.

Her mouth opened to speak, but the pressure on her jaw tightened abruptly, causing her to wince. Then, just as quickly, the grip was gone. If it weren't for the lingering pain, she might have thought she'd imagined the whole thing.

When she glanced back at Dylan, the sharpness in his demeanor had softened into a calm gentleness. Clara rubbed her jaw, still a bit shaken.

"Mr. Dylan?" she ventured again.

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice hoarse, like he was holding something back. She let out a sigh of relief, steadying his wheelchair with one hand.

“That's good. The elevator seems stable now,” she said, trying to ease the tension.

"Yeah." His tone was so detached that she struggled to replace a way to continue the conversation.

After a moment, she noticed him trying to stand and quickly moved to support his arm. But the elevator jolted once more, causing her to lose balance and fall backward. Dylan's hand shot out to grab her, but he too fell back into his wheelchair.

Clara ended up landing in his lap, and their lips accidentally brushed against each other. The unexpected warmth made her eyes widen in surprise. Before she could fully process what had happened, Dylan pushed her away. She hit the floor with a thud, touching her lips in disbelief. Her phone had skittered to a corner, and an awkward tension filled the air.

Clara wished she could vanish into a crack in the wall. She had barely made contact with Dylan before being pushed away, which confirmed the rumors that he wasn't fond of girls. Word had it that Dylan never had girls around him and hadn't been in a relationship for years. Given her own infamous reputation, it was clear he wanted no connection with her.

Snapping back to reality, Clara quickly got up and retrieved her phone from the floor. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dylan, it was an accident," she said, her voice apologetic.

Dylan remained silent, but the heavy, dark aura around him was almost suffocating, pressing down on Clara like a weight.