Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

The receptionist was sorting out the check-in, adding, "There was a huge pile-up today with over a dozen cars. The roads won't be cleared for a while."

Clara glanced around the lobby. It was warm enough here; she could probably crash for the night.

But the receptionist seemed to sense her thoughts and sighed, "Ms. Clara, there might be a power outage tonight. When that happens, it gets freezing in here. The rooms have old fireplaces, burn wood, and they're quite cozy."

With that in mind, turning it down would be like giving Dylan a cold shoulder.

She sneaked a look at Dylan.

He was in his wheelchair, head slightly tilted, not seeming to notice anything that had just happened.

Quickly, she pushed his wheelchair. "Thanks. We'll head to our room."

When they reached the room, Clara saw it was about 600 square feet. There was

a fireplace, a chair, a bed, and a tiny bathroom. That was it.

The bathroom was also cramped, barely 20 square feet.

It reminded her of the time on the island with Dylan, where the bathroom was just as tight. They had to squeeze in shoulder to shoulder just to wash their hands.

Back on the island, Dylan had...

She couldn't help but think of his outburst and quickly shook those thoughts away. "Mr. Dylan, do you want to freshen up first? I'll just text my boyfriend real quick." She sat on the only chair in the room.

The chair was ridiculously small. She thought she could maybe sleep on it, but clearly, that was out of the question now.

Dylan slowly stood up, using the wall for support, aiming for the bathroom.

But his steps were shaky. After just one step, he stopped and frowned.

Clara, who had been texting her editor Z, saw this and quickly put her phone down.

"Is your leg still not fully healed?"

Shouldn't it be fine by now? Why did it still look so bad?

He turned his head away, one hand lightly on the wall. "I've been dealing with insomnia, no time for rehab."

Clara suddenly remembered she had promised to help with his insomnia as a way to repay him. But with everything happening with Eden, she'd forgotten about it. Since Dylan hadn't reached out, she assumed he found a solution on his own.

She held his arm, intending to tell him to take it easy, but the next second, he stumbled and fell against her.

Clara stumbled back, her back hitting the wall, their chests pressed together.

She frowned, noticing his pale face, and quickly asked, "Are you okay?"

He murmured, "Sorry."

Clara was momentarily speechless. Someone as proud as Dylan probably hated showing vulnerability in front of others.

"It's okay, let me help you in."

The tiny bathroom felt even smaller with both of them in it.

She even turned on the faucet for him.

Dylan leaned over, splashing water on his face, his hair getting wet.

Clara stood by, unsure where to look, so she gazed into the mirror.

Unexpectedly, he looked up, and their eyes met in the mirror. She quickly looked

away, awkwardly scratching her cheek, unsure of what to say.

Dylan finished washing up and, with her help, returned to the bed.

Clara went to the bathro

herself for a quick wash. With these conditions, a

shower was out of the question tonight.

The bed was small too. Once they both lay down, there was hardly any space left.

Clara closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep, only to hear him ask, “Did you let your boyfriend know you're safe?"

"Yes."

In truth, she hadn't. Knowing Z's jealousy, especially since he was already wary of Dylan, she decided to deal with it once she was back.

Dylan moved a bit closer, and Clara stiffened from the proximity.

Now she was even more awake, so she decided to make conversation. "Mr.

Dylan, how far is that place from here?"

"Three hours, deep in the mountains."

A manor deep in the mountains?

Had she been there before?

She turned to face him. "How did you find out about that place, Mr. Dylan?"

"Just stumbled upon it."

Clara didn't press further on that issue but switched topics. "What's that place used for?"

"No idea."

Dylan was as tight-lipped as ever.noveldrama

Feeling a bit deflated, she lay back, about to drift off, when he asked, "Clara, do you love your boyfriend?"

Clara snapped awake. Was Dylan interested in her personal affairs?

"Of course I do."

"Have you thought about marrying him?"

"I guess... I'm not sure. Lately, I've been having bizarre dreams. The reason I want to find that manor is because I received a time-delayed email from years ago, asking if I ended up with my senior. But I don't even know who this senior is." She was so confused that she inadvertently revealed too much.

Dylan, eyes still closed, his face calm, said, "It could be someone you once loved deeply. If your senior returns, would you stay with your current boyfriend?"

Clara seemed to have opened a floodgate. After all, Dylan was the only one who knew about that manor, a truly serendipitous connection.

She temporarily set aside her grievances against him. "Mr. Dylan, having lived in New York for so many years, have you heard of this senior of mine? I've tested Simon and others, and none of them know."

His eyelashes fluttered briefly as he slowly opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"No."

His voice was hoarse as he turned his back to her. "Nor do I want to know."

It was a clear signal to end the conversation.

Clara wisely refrained from asking further questions.