Claire’s body went completely rigid as blood rushed to her head.
Her mind went blank.
All the little ploys that usually came so easily to her, the ones she used to test and tease him, failed completely, falling apart in utter disarray.
’This man... he’s usually so cold and aloof, with a ’keep your distance’ kind of vibe.’
’But when he turns on the charm, he’s an absolute devil.’
Claire fled in a panic, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
Her retreating figure radiated pure mortification.
Miles stood where he was, the amusement in his eyes deepening...
「Two days later.」 Claire was recovering well. After getting the stitches in her arm removed, she went to the police station to write a formal letter of pardon for the father who had attacked her out of grief for his lost child.
Miles drove her back to Regency Gardens.
It was quiet in the car.
Claire was the first to break the silence, her tone probing.
"They say you should repay a drop of kindness with a gushing spring, Dr. Warren. Since I saved you, shouldn’t you be incredibly grateful?"
The corner of the man’s mouth twitched as he waited for her to continue.
"So, Dr. Warren... are you planning on offering yourself to me in repayment?"
Miles acted as if he hadn’t heard, replying coolly, "The repayment you’re asking for is certainly... creative, Ms. Kendall."
"You saved me. I’ll send you a commemorative banner one of these days."
Claire: ...
She changed tactics, complaining with a playful pout.
"I’ve gotten used to you taking care of me all these days in the hospital. Now that I have to go home all by myself, I’m sure I won’t be able to adjust."
"And if the wound starts hurting again, there’ll be no one to look after me..."
She sniffled, watching his reaction as she spoke.
But Miles didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow.
Claire frowned, putting on a helpless, delicate act.
"Dr. Warren, tell me... I won’t have any lingering complications, will I? Will it ache when it’s cloudy or rainy? Will I need frequent check-ups, or maybe someone to help massage it?"
The car slowed to a stop at a red light.
Miles finally turned to look at her, his gaze serious.
His gaze rested on her face for a few seconds. His voice was flat, betraying no emotion.
"Claire Kendall."
"Yes?" she asked, looking at him expectantly.
"Your wound is healing well. The pain is a normal part of the nerve regeneration process. You do not require special care."
Every word he spoke was objective and detached, stripping her little flirtatious schemes bare.
"As for complications, if you end up disabled, I will take full responsibility."
Claire: ’This man is made of stone!’
Back at Apartment 502, Regency Gardens.
Claire took a long, relaxing bath. Stepping out, she dried herself off.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. ’Beautiful. Stunning, even.’
’So why won’t Miles budge? Why won’t he take the bait?’
’I knew winning over a man like him would be a challenge, but I never imagined it would be *this* hard.’
’Guess he’s not one for delicate persuasion.’
The doorbell rang abruptly.
DING-DONG—
"Delivery! Left it at your door."
Claire froze. It was late, and she hadn’t ordered any food.
After checking through the peephole to make sure the person was gone, Claire cautiously opened the door.
A fast-food delivery bag sat on the floor, with no order slip attached.
’There are only two apartments on this floor. Could Miles have ordered it? A wrong delivery?’
Claire picked up the paper bag. It was surprisingly heavy and slightly damp, and it gave off a faint, pungent odor.
She looked down at it in the dim light, puzzled.
Claire froze. A second later, she let out a piercing scream and violently flung the bag away.
She stumbled backward, her back slamming hard against the door. A sharp, dull pain radiated from the impact, but it was nothing compared to the horror of the sight before her.
The bag didn’t contain food. It was a dead cat, mangled and bloody beyond recognition.
The cat’s corpse rolled out, its fur matted with dark red blood that stuck to the floor. Its hollow eyes seemed to stare right at her.
A slip of paper slid out from inside the bag.
Two words, scrawled in what looked like blood—*Claire Kendall*.
At that exact moment,
the door to Apartment 501 was thrown open!
When Miles saw the dead thing on the floor, his body reacted before his mind could.
He lunged forward, stretching out a long arm to steady Claire.
Her body was limp and shaking violently. She clutched at his clothes, her teeth chattering. "It... it was my... name..."
"Don’t look."
Miles raised a hand to cover her eyes and pulled her into his apartment.
The horrifying sight and the acrid smell of blood were shut outside.
"Mi... Miles..."
She couldn’t form a complete syllable.
A painful knot formed in Miles’s chest.
He slowly raised a hand. It felt stiff, but he firmly patted her on the back, murmuring words of comfort.
"It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll handle this."
At the sound of his voice, the tension coiling inside Claire slowly began to unwind, and her reason gradually returned.
She turned and threw her arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest.
Miles’s body went rigid.
The woman in his arms felt soft and delicate. In the aftermath of her terror, she began to sob quietly, gradually soaking the front of his shirt with her tears.
Her scent filled his senses, surrounding him.
He gently returned the embrace.
"Dr. Warren..." Claire’s voice was muffled and hoarse as she pleaded softly, "Can I stay at your place for the night?"
She lifted her head. Her eyes were wet with tears, and she was still visibly shaken.
She stared right at him. "Just for one night... Please?"
His Adam’s apple bobbed. "Okay," he managed.
A floor lamp in the living room cast a warm, bright light.
Claire was curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket Miles had given her. The faint smell of antiseptic in the air slowly began to calm her.
’I never thought this would be how I’d end up spending the night at his place.’
Miles’s gaze fell to her hand. The gauze was stained with a bit of blood; she must have torn the wound during the commotion.
He opened a first-aid kit and took out some iodine. "Hold out your hand."
The next moment, Miles knelt on one knee on the carpet in front of the sofa.
In this position, he was suddenly shorter than her.
He cradled her hand, his gaze focused as he patiently treated the wound.
Claire’s heart skipped a beat.
Her hand was small, completely enveloped by the warmth of his large palm.
’This angle...’
Claire looked down, her eyes slowly tracing over him from head to toe.
’His eyes, the bridge of his nose, his Adam’s apple, the hint of abs beneath his loose loungewear, and further down...’
’This position is practically unfair...’
The corners of Claire’s eyes curved into a smile.
"Dr. Warren, earlier in the car... when you said I couldn’t stay over, was it because you hate me? Do you find me annoying?"
Miles’s movements faltered for a moment. He paused, his voice low.
"I don’t dislike you."
"So you don’t dislike me—" Claire drew out the words, her fingertip lightly scratching his palm. "In that case... do you like me, even a little?"