Chapter 88: Unexpected Attention

As they neared Zeller Cosmetics, still about sixty or seventy meters away, Claire Grace tapped on the car window, signaling Lucas Zeller to pull over. She smoothed out her blouse as she prepared to step out.

"What are you doing?" Lucas asked, frowning as Claire swung one leg out of the car.

"Getting out," she replied, looking at him as though the answer were obvious. "I usually get dropped off here, and you drive into the parking lot while I walk the rest of the way. You know that."

Lucas blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then, narrowing his eyes, he glared at her with an intensity that suggested he was resisting the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel.

"I'm starting to think that everything I said to you in the kitchen yesterday might as well have been addressed to a brick wall—or a pig. How else could you fail to understand what I meant?" he snapped.

Claire pouted, her lips forming a small, exaggerated frown. "Are you calling me a pig, Mr. Zeller?" Her voice was tinged with mock indignation. She knew they'd been the only two people in the kitchen yesterday, so the jab could only be directed at her.

Lucas let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. He wasn't sure whether to be amused or exasperated. "Get back in the car," he said firmly. Whether she was a pig or a snail, he didn't have the patience to argue further. Besides, when Claire got emotional, her crying fits could rival an operatic tragedy.

Claire hesitated, studying his face as if trying to decipher his true intentions. "Lucas, are you sure—?"

"Are you getting back in or not?" he interrupted, his tone sharp. "If not, walk the rest of the way." He revved the engine lightly for emphasis, making her squeal in alarm and quickly retract the foot she'd already set outside the car.

"Okay, okay, I'm staying!" she huffed, clutching her chest dramatically as though she'd narrowly escaped disaster. But as she settled back into her seat, she couldn't help but feel confused. Ever since Lucas had said those heartfelt words to her in the kitchen yesterday, he'd been uncharacteristically kind. He had cajoled and comforted her in ways she hadn't thought possible, even if his teasing and blunt remarks remained. It was just how he communicated.

Now, though, he was acting like a completely different person—a brooding, temperamental dragon.

Claire glanced sideways at him. His once-warm expression had shifted, his face darkening like a storm cloud. His normally rosy complexion had turned pale, then faintly green, and finally a steely shade of gray. His lips were set in a grim line, and the tension in his jaw made the sharp angles of his face even more pronounced.

What happened to him? she wondered. He'd been fine when they left the house. Then, just after taking a phone call, his mood had plummeted. His expression now mirrored the one he'd worn on the night of the... *incident.*

As Claire stared at him, curiosity burning in her eyes, Lucas's voice cut through the silence. "Are you counting the pores on my face," he asked dryly, "or planning to ambush me with a kiss while I'm distracted by driving?"

Startled, Claire jerked back in her seat, her cheeks burning a deep red. "Neither!" she protested, hurriedly turning her gaze to the window. But her curiosity lingered. She wanted desperately to ask what the phone call had been about, yet she couldn't bring herself to risk more of his biting remarks.

"You have something to ask me?" Lucas prompted, arching a brow as he noticed her stealing glances at him again.

"Um... no," Claire said quickly, shaking her head. She reconsidered. "Well, I did, but now I don't."

Lucas sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Do you or don't you?"

"It's nothing," she mumbled. "You're in a bad mood, and I don't want to get on your nerves."

He gave her a sidelong glance but said nothing more.

---

When they arrived at the company and stepped out of the car together, every employee in the vicinity froze in shock. The scene was so unexpected that it left jaws hanging, eyes wide, and more than a few coffee cups dangerously close to spilling.

Among the onlookers, the women of the office reacted the most dramatically. Those who had long harbored crushes on Lucas Zeller felt as though a bolt of high-voltage electricity had struck them. Their eyes flickered with envy as they directed venomous glares at Claire.

"Good morning, Mr. Zeller," a saccharine voice called out. It belonged to Coco, a sales associate who had once been Claire's colleague. Her gaze lingered far too long on Lucas, brimming with poorly concealed adoration.

Lucas offered a perfunctory nod, his voice detached. "Morning." Without sparing her another glance, he strode toward the elevators.

Claire shivered as an inexplicable chill ran down her spine. The frosty glares from the female employees were practically tangible.

"Are you cold?" Lucas's voice startled her.

"No, no," she stammered, unwilling to admit that she was unnerved by the hostility radiating from her colleagues.

Lucas smirked, his lips curling into a playful grin. "I was going to suggest you run ten laps around the corridor if you were."

"Seriously?" Claire muttered, shooting him a look of disbelief.

The elevator doors opened, and Lucas stepped aside to let Claire enter first. As the doors began to close, he said, "Go upstairs and organize the materials I'll need today. I'll join you shortly."

Claire nodded, watching as Lucas turned and walked purposefully toward the far end of the hallway—the direction of the company's production facility. She tilted her head, puzzled. What was he doing there?

Before she could dwell on it, the elevator doors reopened with a jolt. A flurry of figures dashed inside, leaving Claire momentarily stunned as two more people hurried in after them.