Chapter 73: Heartbeats

"Mad… not mad… mad… not mad…" Claire muttered, chewing on a chocolate ball as she counted. Next to her on the coffee table sat what was once a full box of chocolates—now only a quarter remained.

After three more minutes of counting her dwindling supply, she gave up with a sigh. "Mad… not mad… mad… huh?" Her hand swept around the box once more, only to find it empty. She stared down, disbelieving, at the lone wrappers in the box, realizing with a sinking feeling that Lucas was indeed mad at her. She could tell from his biting tone, a sharpness that was hard to ignore.

Apparently, the supplements Shauna had recommended weren't having much effect. He still seemed irritated, his expression as stormy as ever. Or… was the next step really to make him drink the "special" powder dissolved in his water?

"Like I could ever do that," she whispered. Just thinking about the way he'd glared at her earlier—practically fuming—made her legs feel weak. She had to admit it, she was a little scared. The first time she'd met him, she'd thought he was simply charming, someone who drew people in with a powerful presence. And yes, he had a certain allure, but it was often cloaked in sarcasm. His voice alone could probably be heard a mile away when he was angry. And now… wait, when had she started referring to him as "my boss"? Was it when Shauna casually referred to him that way? Or maybe when Lauren joked about "your Mr. Zeller"?

Habits really were troublesome. She'd grown used to calling him "the boss," partly to avoid making a slip-up at work but also because… well, it just felt right. She'd even grown used to his sharp tongue, though any attempt at talking back usually ended in her feeling like a trapped monkey. She'd gotten used to his unpredictability and his changing moods, though she still found herself caught off guard. Like earlier—he'd only wanted to help with her burn, but he'd pulled her onto his lap to do it. And then he'd leaned in, his face so close that their noses practically touched, a mischievous smile on his lips that made her heart race.

She shook her head, feeling the heat creep up her neck. No, no, no—she couldn't let herself think about that moment.

Just as she was lost in thought, she heard soft footsteps approaching from behind. The sound grew closer, and her eyes widened in surprise. She thought he'd gone upstairs to rest, so why was he coming back down?

Without a word, Lucas picked up the glass of water on the coffee table, now cold, and lifted it to his lips.

"No! Don't drink that!" Her voice shot out, sharp and desperate.

They both froze, staring wide-eyed at each other in the sudden silence. Her face was flushed with a mix of guilt and panic, while his expression was laced with confusion.

"Why can't I drink it?" Lucas asked, his voice lazy, one eyebrow arched.

"Uh, because…" She mentally kicked herself. Why hadn't she just dumped it out when he was upstairs? Or even drunk it herself? Well, maybe not—that powder… was it even safe for her to drink? Lauren had implied it was a kind of… enhancer, something that would bring out his "true colors" as a man. But still…

"You're muttering," he said, watching her carefully. "Did you poison this or something?"

"Poison?!" Claire's eyes widened, a spark of anger breaking through her shock. "What kind of person do you take me for? Do I look like the type to poison someone's drink?" Well, technically, it was only… a little powder.

"Hmm… defensive, are we?" he drawled. "I didn't say you actually did anything to it. Just found it strange, that's all."

"I… I'm thirsty!" she retorted, grabbing the glass from his hand. "I ate too many chocolates and got thirsty—is that a crime?" Whether it was the chocolate or his constant suspicion, something inside her snapped, and in a moment of defiance, she lifted the glass to her lips and downed it all in one go. She glanced at him with a look of challenge, then spun on her heel and stomped up the stairs.

Lucas stood there, stunned for a good fifty seconds, slowly processing what had just happened.

Wow. She'd really done that. Snatched the glass right out of his hand and gulped it down, as if daring him to stop her. He couldn't help but recall her initial intent: hadn't she poured that glass for him? He'd refused it earlier, finding it unnecessary, and had gone upstairs to cool down—only to end up tossing and turning, feeling an odd warmth that had kept him awake. That's why he'd finally come down, looking for that glass of water.

And yet… of all the times to drink it, why did she wait until he reached for it?

Childish.

Deciding to end this baffling evening, he switched off the lights and headed up to his room.

---

Hot.

The water in her shower was icy, but Claire felt as if it barely made a difference. Her skin cooled, but an unsettling heat still simmered within. Something wasn't right.

Dressed in her usual sleepwear, she slipped into bed, her back instinctively turned to the other side, where Lucas lay. She thought that perhaps, if she just closed her eyes, the heat would subside. But sleep eluded her, and the warmth inside her only seemed to spread, until it filled every inch of her body.

Was the blanket too heavy? She tossed it aside.

Odd—she still felt hot. Maybe her clothes were too thick? She was just beginning to pull at her shirt when a sudden tearing sound filled the room.

At the noise, Lucas turned, and his piercing gaze found her in an instant. His dark eyes widened at the sight, a rush of heat spreading over his own face, as his heart thundered with an uncontainable, burning intensity.