Chapter 11: Just Playing Around? A Confession in the Dark

The lights went out, and the room plunged into darkness.

The silence was eerie, almost suffocating. Clara buried her face in the duvet, and the scent of a fresh, pleasant masculine aroma drifted into her nose. It was Leo’s scent. She had assumed that with his hectic job, he might neglect personal hygiene, but to her surprise, his bedding was crisp, clean, and smelled faintly of laundry detergent.

Outside, the thunderclaps were relentless, one after another. Clara’s fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.

She didn't know if the man on the floor was asleep. Poking her face out from under the covers, she whispered, "Captain Sterling? I want to hold you. Can you come up to the bed?"

"Shut up and go to sleep," came the blunt reply from the floor.

The room stayed quiet for a moment. But soon, the woman moved directly from the bed to his makeshift spot on the floor.

She crawled under his blanket. Leo reached out to haul her back to the bed, but her arms quickly wrapped around his lean waist.

"Don't push me away," Clara whispered, her lips trembling. "Two years ago, my sister snuck back to attend my wedding. She was spotted and followed by criminals who suspected her identity. They... they gang-raped her and dumped her body in the wilderness like trash."

Clara pressed her face against his chest, her voice shaking in the dark. "My sister was an undercover officer. If she hadn't come back to give me a wedding gift, she would never have been targeted. Those monsters would rather kill an innocent by mistake than let a single suspicious person go—"

Leo felt a warm dampness soaking into his chest. The hand he had raised to push her away softened and instead patted her shoulder gently.

"That criminal organization hasn't been dismantled yet," Clara continued. "A year ago, I applied for an undercover assignment, but I wasn't qualified enough. My superiors said I need another year of experience before I can take the specialized training."

Leo looked down at the woman in his arms. In the darkness, he could only see a faint, slender outline. A flash of complexity crossed his eyes. "You're braver than I thought."

Clara’s lashes fluttered. "For things to stay peaceful, someone has to be on the front lines. My sister is my hero. I hope one day I can personally catch the people who killed her."

Leo gave a low grunt of affirmation.

"What about you, Captain?" Clara asked, looking up. "Why did you become a cop?"

Leo’s dark eyes stared fixedly at the ceiling, his lips pressed thin. He didn't speak, but Clara felt a heavy, somber atmosphere emanate from him.

"If it’s not convenient to say, then don't," she added softly.

Leo closed his eyes, masking his emotions. "For someone very important."

Clara’s ears perked up.

A story?

She waited, but he didn't elaborate. She reached out and poked his pectoral muscle. "That's it? No sequel?"

Leo caught her wandering finger. "Stop touching."

"I can't touch a good body? Fine, how about you touch mine?"

Leo’s breathing hitched.

This woman can't stay serious for more than five minutes.

He squeezed her finger with a bit more force. "Are you like this with every guy who’s handsome and in shape?"

Clara tilted her head back, her red lips hovering near his Adam's apple. "Of course not. They have to be good in bed, too."

Leo: "..."

Clara pulled her finger from his grip and slowly traced a path down his firm chest to his well-defined abs. "Did you let Bianca touch these?"

Whether it was the trail of her finger or the mention of his ex, Leo’s stomach muscles knotted instantly. The outline of his eight-pack became even more pronounced. He caught her hand again, his palm burning hot.

He looked down at her, his breathing heavy, his voice thick with a mix of danger and coldness. "Clara Ye, the night at the bar was an accident. I won't sleep with you again. You can drop the idea of just 'playing' with me."

Playing?

Clara thought of the message she had accidentally sent to the work group and a smirk played on her lips. "And do you... like being played with by me?"

As she spoke, her breath fanned against his neck like a tiny electric current—tingling and numbing. He pushed her head back against his chest and gave her backside a firm, unceremonious slap. "Shut up. Sleep."

Clara: "..."

Bully. Tyrant. Jerk.

She had thought she wouldn't be able to sleep, but wrapped in his powerful arms and leaning against his broad chest, she felt an overwhelming sense of security. Her eyelids grew heavy.

When she woke up the next morning, the man was gone. Clara folded the duvet and carried her pillow out of the room. Passing the kitchen, she saw the tall man standing at the counter, making breakfast.

She crept up and peeked over his shoulder. "Wow—Captain Sterling can cook?"

He was boiling noodles and frying eggs, and it actually looked decent. Leo glanced back at her and pointed to one of the bowls. "Take that back to your apartment and eat."

Clara raised an eyebrow. "I can't eat here with you?"

"No."

"Do you really hate me that much?"

The hard line of his jaw tightened. "Clara, do you think every man you flirt with is just going to fall for it?"

Clara didn't know what had crawled up his sleeve. Had he eaten gunpowder for breakfast? Her own temper flared. She tilted her chin up. "If you weren't 'falling for it,' why did you sleep with me that night? Did I force you?"

The veins in Leo’s temples bulged. His fist clenched at his side. "If you’re so confident in your charm, why did your ex-husband cheat on you?"

The air went dead silent.

Clara hadn't expected him to throw her scars in her face. Her blood boiled, and she glared at him. "And what about you? You were so poor and useless that your fiancée left you to be my ex-husband's mistress!"

Spark flew. The atmosphere was like a bowstring drawn to the breaking point. Leo’s knuckles cracked. Clara thought for a second he might actually hit her.

His jaw was like a blade. He pointed to the door. "Get out!"

"Fine! You think I actually care about being here?"

If he weren't her new boss, she wouldn't even give him the time of day. Clara tossed her hair and marched out in a huff.

Leo watched her go, suppressed the flickering fire in his eyes. Only he knew he hadn't slept a wink. She was a restless sleeper—her hands wandering inside his robe, her legs hooking over his waist. It was torture.

Better to draw the line now,

he thought.

Otherwise, I'll be the one suffering later.

Her accidental group message proved it: she just wanted to play.

Clara had intended to thank him for letting her stay over. Now, she just wanted to see him trip in the mud. Did he really think he was so irresistible that she'd die without him?

Screw him.

She showered, composed herself, and went to work. She was running late, so she dashed for the elevator. As the doors were closing, they opened again.

The elevator was crowded. Standing there was the "dog man" himself. He was in plain clothes today, one hand in his pocket, looking cold and aloof. He didn't even give her a side-glance.

Clara ignored him too. She was wearing a beige chiffon shirt and matching wide-leg trousers, with a thin choker that gave her a cool, elegant look. Her hair was in a low ponytail, and her wire-rimmed glasses made her look noble yet captivating.

Rocky, standing in the corner, waved. "Clara, you look stunning today."

Clara nodded. "Thanks. I ordered coffee for everyone. I'll treat you guys in a bit."

When the elevator reached their floor, she and Leo walked out without a single word to each other. Shortly after, the coffee arrived. Everyone in the Forensics and Investigations departments got one—except Leo.