CHAPTER 5 - Cornered by Love.
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Trapped with Her
Knock. Knock.
"Come in," Dave's deep voice echoed through the dimly lit room.
Nora stepped inside, balancing a silver tray of steaming dishes in her hands.
"Put it on the table," Dave ordered coolly, his back still turned toward the door.
He stood tall by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the sprawling cityscape below. The twinkling lights of the metropolis stretched endlessly before him, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness settling in his chest.
His fingers moved with practiced ease, slipping a cigarette from a sleek silver case. With a flick of his lighter, the flame briefly illuminated his sharp features before he took a slow drag, exhaling a stream of smoke into the air.
Nora carefully placed the tray on the small table between the couch and the bed, but instead of leaving as instructed, she marched straight toward him.
And in one swift motion—
She plucked the cigarette from his fingers.
The air between them snapped tight.
Dave's entire body stiffened. His deep brown eyes darkened instantly as he turned, his gaze colliding with hers.
It wasn't the maid.
It was her.
His voice dropped dangerously low. "How dare you?"
Nora waved the cigarette away, wrinkling her nose. "Cough—Smoking is harmful to your health," she muttered, fanning the air between them as she coughed again.
Dave's eyes narrowed, his irritation sharp as a blade. "Get out."
"No."
She crossed her arms stubbornly, placing the cigarette in the ashtray with deliberate finality. Her unwavering gaze locked onto his, completely unaffected by the storm brewing in his eyes.
"You just had a long flight," she said, her voice softening slightly. "Come eat."
Dave scoffed but didn't argue. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Nora blinked at his sudden retreat.
Did he really storm off just because I took his cigarette?
She shook her head, unimpressed. That's childish.
Letting out a small sigh, she wandered around the room, trailing her fingers over the polished furniture.
Nothing had changed.
The deep black and soft gray walls still gave the space an air of cool sophistication. The bookshelves were immaculately arranged, filled with thick, serious-looking books. Even the scent of expensive cologne lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the freshness of his recently unpacked luggage.
"They've taken good care of this place," she murmured, admiring the untouched perfection of his sanctuary.
But even if the room hadn't changed—Dave had.
And yet, some things remained the same.
Like his habit of running away from her.
---
Inside the Bathroom
Dave braced his hands against the sink, his reflection staring back at him with unspoken frustration.
This girl.
For twelve years, she had been relentless.
Twelve.
No matter how much distance he put between them, no matter how many walls he built, she always found a way through.
She was a force of nature—persistent, unwavering, and utterly exhausting.
He ran a hand through his damp hair, inhaling sharply.
'I should just keep ignoring her.'
With that, he stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the icy water wash away the tension coiling inside him.
Surely, by the time he walked out, she would be gone.
Surely.
---
She's Still Here
The moment Dave stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying his damp hair, he halted in his tracks.
Nora was still there.
She was lounging on the edge of his bed, completely at ease, twirling a strand of her dark hair between her fingers.
Her eyes trailed over him—slow, deliberate, amused.
She didn't even try to hide it.
"Nice body," she muttered under her breath, chuckling.
Dave's jaw ticked.
He let out a sharp exhale and—without sparing her another glance—strode toward the door.
He was done.
Done with this conversation. Done with her antics. Done with her.
But just as his fingers brushed the door handle—
"Stop right there!" Nora's voice rang out.
He didn't stop.
So—
She ran.
Moving swiftly, she cut in front of him, blocking his path with outstretched arms.
The sudden closeness made her realize just how much taller he was.
Dave loomed over her, his 1.88-meter frame effortlessly dwarfing her own. The sharp angles of his face remained unreadable, but the air around him was tense.
He was irritated.
Good.
Nora planted her hands on her hips, unwavering. "You're not leaving until you eat."
Dave stared at her in disbelief.
Her tone was firm, as if she actually had the power to order him around.
"I even warmed up your food when you took too long in the bathroom," she added, lifting her chin slightly.
For a brief second—so brief it was almost imperceptible—a flicker of surprise flashed across his face.
She's that attentive?
But just as quickly as the surprise came, it disappeared, replaced by his usual cold indifference.
Nora sighed. "You know," she mused, tilting her head, "your cold aura doesn't scare me. I've gotten used to it."
Her gaze sharpened. "And I'll keep pestering you. I've done it for twelve years—I can't just stop now without achieving my goal. I won't stop until you're mine, Dave."
His breath hitched—just slightly.
She saw it.
Felt it.
For a split second, he almost—almost—wanted to nod in agreement. She's right.
But then he clenched his fists.
No.
Distance.
He needed distance.
But before he could step away, Nora took a step closer.
"I know you're warm toward your family," she murmured. "I don't expect you to be warm toward me."
Her voice softened, holding something almost fragile beneath its teasing confidence.
"I just want you to give me a chance. Consider dating me."
She paused—then her lips curled mischievously.
"Or better yet…"
Her eyes sparkled with playful challenge.
"Let's get married."
Dave's breath caught in his throat.
His grip on the doorknob tightened.
Before he could recover—
She suddenly cupped her hands together, blinking up at him with wide, pleading eyes, her lower lip jutting out in a small pout.
"Please, Davvy?"
Her voice was sweet. Almost too sweet.
Something inside him snapped.
This girl…
She really was shameless.
And, perhaps, just a little dangerous.