Chapter 10

Clara Walton clutched Ethan Blackwood’s shirt with both hands, her knuckles white, the fabric wrinkled under her desperate grip. She was stiff with fear—even wrapped in his arms, she couldn’t relax. Ethan looked down, his eyes now adjusted to the dark. He could see Clara’s tear-streaked face, her cheeks pale and wet with silent sobs. “Don’t cry. I’m right here,” he said, his voice low and surprisingly gentle. But Clara didn’t stop. Her soft cries grew more pitiful, like a wronged kitten with nowhere else to turn. The sound tugged at something deep in Ethan’s chest—concern mixed with something unfamiliar. He’d never seen Clara like this. “Stop crying,” he repeated, this time with a slight edge. Startled, Clara looked up. Her tear-filled eyes shimmered in the dimness, heartbreakingly fragile. Seeing her like that made Ethan feel almost cruel. “I said stop crying.” His voice dropped again. And just like that, she broke. Ethan swallowed hard, sighed quietly, then leaned in and captured her lips with his. The sudden kiss swallowed everything—her sobs, her panic, all of it vanished like smoke. In that dark elevator, Ethan was her only anchor. She clung to his arm as if he were her lifeline, responding with a desperation she’d never shown before. His breathing grew heavier. In such a confined space, the heat between them quickly took over. What had been tension now snapped—chaos took hold. They were like two trapped souls, every touch igniting something fierce. Yet Ethan hadn’t completely lost control. But in Clara’s mind, this wild moment felt like a twisted kind of balance—one she didn’t want to let go of. “Clara…” Ethan breathed, barely managing her name. Before he could finish, Clara pulled him closer again. He gripped her waist, his eyes darkening. “You’re really trying to test me right now?” Clara only let out a soft, dazed sound. Then, suddenly, the elevator lights flickered back on, and Ethan’s phone rang. Clara blinked in the brightness, looking disoriented. When she realized how closely she was pressed against Ethan, her face flushed with embarrassment. And echoing through the lit space was that familiar ringtone—Fiona Barrington. That snapped Clara back to reality instantly. She quickly stepped back, trying to steady her breathing. Her heart was racing, almost painfully. Ethan glanced at his phone and casually released her. Clara kept her expression neutral, and Ethan didn’t bother hiding anything—he answered the call as if nothing had happened. “Ethan, am I interrupting something?” Fiona’s soft voice came through. His breathing was still uneven. “No.” Fiona noticed but kept her tone smooth. “I’m having dinner tonight to discuss a film project. I believe you know him—care to join us?” Classic Fiona—surface-level courtesy with the door left wide open. That was her game. Ethan didn’t immediately agree. Clara lowered her gaze, a bitter smile forming. It wouldn’t be the first time she felt like a joke. But in that moment, something rebellious stirred inside her—she didn’t want Fiona to win so easily. So she reached out, her fingers lightly curling around Ethan’s. He noticed immediately and glanced down at her as if asking what she was doing. Then Clara’s voice came through the speaker, soft and deliberately sweet: “Babe, I’m still a little scared of the dark. Stay with me tonight, okay?” Her cheeks were still flushed from crying, and that soft, pleading tone was borderline lethal. It could melt anyone on the spot. Ethan’s eyes darkened as he watched her. He knew this wasn’t accidental—he wasn’t that oblivious. And sure enough, a sharp intake of breath came from the other end. “I… am I interrupting something?” Fiona’s voice suddenly wavered, as if she might cry. Clara stayed perfectly still. She wanted to see what Ethan would do. Before, the outcome would’ve been obvious—Ethan would’ve gone to Fiona. But this time… what he said next completely threw her. He didn’t deny it. Just said flatly, “Yeah. You kind of are.” There was a pause. Then a flustered, rushed reply: “I’m sorry. I’ll go by myself. Sorry for bothering you.” Click. Fiona hung up. Clara began to calm down. She’d definitely overreacted—gone full impulsive. She’d actually tried to mess with Fiona right in front of Ethan. And before, she’d always hidden that side of herself. She braced herself for Ethan to criticize her. But instead—he simply took her hand. It caught her completely off guard. Just then, the elevator doors slid open, finally operational. The staff outside looked like they were about to faint when they saw who was inside. “M-Mr. Blackwood…” one stammered, visibly shaking. Ethan didn’t even flinch. He gave them a cold look and walked out, pulling Clara along with him. She nearly stumbled, and he steadied her without breaking stride. “Aurelux can’t even maintain basic emergency lighting?” His voice turned icy, full CEO mode. “This better not happen again.” “Yes, sir,” the staff replied in unison, standing at attention as if facing dismissal. They wanted to explain it wasn’t their fault but didn’t dare. I mean, what were the odds of Ethan Blackwood getting stuck in their elevator? Worse than winning the lottery. Clara bit her lip absently. Then Ethan’s voice dropped again, low and firm: “My wife is afraid of the dark. I don’t want her frightened like this again.” “Yes, sir,” came the immediate, hushed reply. Clara didn’t react much, but her fingers curled slightly. He… actually said that for her? But the real surprise? She’d just humiliated Fiona. She’d heard the hurt in Fiona’s voice. And Ethan didn’t even scold her for it? — Once outside, Clara had fully composed herself. She stopped walking, and Ethan paused beside her, watching her. “Thank you,” she said after a moment, biting her lip slightly. She didn’t mention anything else. Remembering what happened in the elevator, her ears grew warm. Ethan kept his gaze on her, unreadable, then suddenly found her shy expression somewhat endearing. Far better than the overly polished façade she usually wore. But then, Clara spoke again—and what she said next completely shattered the mood.