Chapter 72: Avoiding the Snail

Claire was left stunned, her mouth agape in utter shock. She opened her mouth but couldn't manage a single word.

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"Practicing how to eat air, or just showing off how white your teeth are?" Lucas smirked, glancing at her open mouth with a playful glint.

"N-no, I wasn't…" Claire snapped her mouth shut and instinctively slid a good distance away from him. But that small movement only seemed to ignite something in Lucas, a wave of irritation suddenly flaring up within him.

"What are you doing? Are you scared I'll eat you, or worse, kill you?" he snapped, exasperated as he watched her attempt to scoot away on the limited space of the couch. "Come here."

"I wasn't trying to avoid you!" Claire protested, but her voice was weak. Truthfully, she was just nervous that he might realize something. She'd already endured his angry glares over dinner, feeling her courage drain away each time he spoke harshly. She wasn't sure if she could handle it again.

And, truth be told, she was beginning to regret ever putting that powder into his water.

"Or would you prefer that I come over there?" Lucas asked, a hint of mischief lighting his eyes as he watched her inching toward him, slowly and reluctantly, like a cautious snail. Her expression was so pitiful, as if she were a helpless flower and he was the heartless villain about to tear her apart.

Growing tired of her snail's pace, Lucas reached out and, with one swift movement, pulled her onto his lap.

"Mr. Zeller, what are you doing?" Claire gasped, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Doing what?" His chiseled face came closer, eyes gleaming as his gaze slid down from her wide eyes to her pale, graceful neck. His voice took on a husky, wicked edge, and the intensity in his stare made her heart pound, her cheeks flush with a nervous excitement. Then, as she braced herself, his expression shifted unexpectedly, becoming serious. "What am I doing? Helping you, obviously. Now, hold out your right hand."

He reached up to the top of the couch and retrieved the burn cream and cotton pads he'd set aside earlier.

Wait… he was going to help her with her burn?

"Didn't you and Lauren go to the pharmacy earlier? Why didn't you buy any burn cream for yourself?"

"How… how did you know we went to a pharmacy?" she stammered, a little thrown.

Lucas blinked, realizing his slip, then narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you think those herbs just materialized on the sidewalk for you to pick up?" He nearly forgot that he'd followed them there.

"Oh, that's right." She scratched her head, relieved that he didn't press further. She didn't dare mention that Lauren had also taken her to… certain other stores.

Lucas watched her intently, his gaze piercing. "You didn't go anywhere else, did you?"

"Nowhere at all," she lied, hoping he wouldn't notice her nervousness. She couldn't exactly tell him, *"Mr. Zeller, Lauren took me to a… store for adults."* If she did, she might as well dig her own grave.

After a long silence, he finally sighed and looked away. He seemed to give up, muttering to himself, "Well, at least she didn't come out with anything from that… place."

Claire let out a quiet sigh of relief. He hadn't pressed any further. If he had, she knew she would've slipped up. She couldn't help it—his gaze was so sharp, so intense, and under his scrutiny, her mind kept drifting to some rather… inappropriate scenes.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"I thought you only had soup tonight. Why the big glass of water?" His eyes landed on the glass on the coffee table.

"Oh… that…" She hesitated, trying to decide if she should tell him it was for him.

"Well?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow as her cheeks colored.

Taking a deep breath, she finally admitted, "It… it was for you, actually."

"For me?" Lucas looked at her, then rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh. "Are you trying to make sure I burst from overeating? I already had a bowl of soup and whatever that gelatin was. Now you're adding a giant glass of water?"

Claire lowered her gaze, biting her lip. "I thought the soup might have been a little salty… you don't have to drink it." She stood up from his lap and moved to the other end of the couch, her eyes fixed on the blank TV screen.

"Is it warm?" he asked.

"Huh?" She turned to him, confused, then quickly nodded, realizing he was asking about the water's temperature.

"Well, I'm not thirsty." Honestly, he was already burning up inside as it was. He'd taken a cold shower, turned the air conditioning down, and yet he still felt as though a strange, unexplainable heat was raging inside him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, frowning at her again.

"Watching TV." She gave him an innocent look, though the screen was still dark.

"Oh really?" Lucas's expression darkened. "Then pray tell, Miss Grace, exactly what program are you watching?"

"I didn't say I was watching a show. I'm… watching the *television*," she retorted with a smirk.

Lucas closed his eyes, groaning as frustration bubbled up. A part of him wanted to yell, grab a pillow to vent his irritation, or simply toss her outside to calm down his nerves.

Finally, he pushed himself up and said, "I'm going upstairs. Maybe some sleep will help me forget the existence of a certain… snail."

As his footsteps faded up the stairs, Claire watched the spot where he'd been sitting, lingering in the space he'd left behind. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and savored the faint trace of his cologne that still lingered in the air.