Chapter126 – Dislocated
Nova stuck her tongue out, grinning. “I’ll take you home. You can’t even walk like that, much less drive.”
Clarissa was about to agree—when a deep, familiar voice spoke from behind. “I’ll take her.”
Nova froze and turned slowly—like she'd just seen a ghost. “You, you—”
Atticus stepped out from the hallway—his eyes shot a dark warning at Nova from an angle Clarissa couldn’t see.
Nova’s legs nearly buckled.
But when he approached Clarissa, his face softened again—like he was someone else entirely.
“Why are you here?” Clarissa blinked.
“I was out having dinner with some friends,” he said casually, crouching down beside her. “Happened to pass your company. Thought I’d come pick you up.”
His gaze dropped—and the second he saw her ankle, his entire demeanor shifted. “Who did this?”
“No one. I just twisted it,” Clarissa said quickly, cutting off Nova before she could speak.
Nova glanced between them, visibly confused. “Clarissa, he’s…”
Clarissa gave her a look and sighed. “It’s fine. You can go.”
Nova still hesitated but finally nodded and turned away.
“Did you see that guy just now?” someone whispered behind her.
“I did—he’s hotter than half the celebrities on TV.”
Just then, the whispers cut off with a collective gasp.
Nova turned and saw Atticus—tall, lean—walking slowly through the office lobby.
And in his arms was Clarissa.
Clarissa’s face turned crimson as she squirmed, pushing at his chest. “Atticus! You’re insane! This is office—put me down!”
“You can’t walk,” he said simply. “Let me carry you.”
His lips curved into a satisfied smile. He wanted everyone to see her in his arms. To make it clear: she was his.
“I can walk! Put me down!”
“Nope.” He strode forward, each step echoing loudly against the marble floor.
Clarissa froze, feeling the weight of every gaze in the building on her.
Embarrassed beyond words, she grabbed the front of his coat and yanked it over her face, hiding from the stares.
Nova stood frozen at the door, her mouth open. Only she recognized the woman in Atticus’s arms.
And in that moment, she realized—this wasn’t the interaction of a brother and sister. Nor a boss and subordinate.
And with a man like Atticus—dangerous, dominant, impossible to tame—Nova couldn’t help but worry.
Could Clarissa handle that fire... or would she end up burned?
......
Benedict was half-asleep in the passenger seat, his head lolling slightly to the side. For the fourth time, he glanced toward the company entrance—this time, “Fuck.”
Just then, Atticus appeared, carrying Clarissa in his arms. He set her gently down.
Clarissa landed on her feet with a small gasp of relief, her body instinctively relaxing.
“Sis?”
Clarissa turned and offered a faint smile. “Benedict?”
His face lit up, surprised and delighted she remembered him. “It’s me! I’ve missed you so much, Sister.”
Before Clarissa could answer, Atticus cut in. He tossed his car keys over to Benedict and said coolly, “Drive home yourself. Bring it back next time.”
Then, without another word, Atticus scooped Clarissa back into his arms and headed straight for the underground parking garage.
That left Benedict standing there, while Clarissa blushed furiously in Atticus’ arms.
“Atticus!” she protested.
He lowered his head, brushing his lips against her ear. Then, with a slow, wicked grin, he licked it—teasing and deliberate.
Clarissa’s breath hitched. His voice, low and dangerous, slid into her ear like silk.
“Shh… don’t be so loud. This is your company’s parking lot, sweetheart. Wouldn’t it be awkward if someone you knew showed up?”
“You—!”
She opened her mouth to retort, but footsteps echoed nearby. Her body tensed and she instinctively curled into Atticus’ chest, her heart pounding.
Atticus chuckled under his breath and picked up the pace, heading straight for her car.
Once there, he opened the door with one hand, set her in the passenger seat with practiced ease, and fastened her seatbelt—his movements careful, almost gentlemanly.
Clarissa turned her face away in protest, lips pressed in a tight line.
Atticus simply smiled and said nothing, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he got behind the wheel and started driving.
The ride home was quiet. But as soon as they stepped inside, Atticus carried her up the stairs without asking.
He returned shortly with ointment in hand. But when he saw her curled up on the couch, hugging her knees like a child, he let out a soft laugh.
“What are you doing, hmm? Sitting like that’ll only make the swelling worse.”
Clarissa didn’t budge. She just stretched out a hand toward him without looking. “Give me the ointment. I’ll do it myself.”
Their relationship had become... complicated. Ambiguous. And lately, Clarissa couldn't shake the feeling that Atticus was doing it all on purpose—but she couldn’t find a single crack in his armor.
Atticus lowered himself in front of her, one knee to the floor. The angle put his face level with hers—his eyes soft, glowing with something unspoken.
“Stop being difficult, alright? You’re too gentle to rub it properly. I also need to check if it’s dislocated.”
“I’m not being difficult…” Clarissa mumbled, but her voice was small.
When she glanced up, his smile caught her off guard.
Those perfect features, a face carved with sharp lines and sinful charm. Atticus always looked distant when he wasn’t smiling—like nothing in the world could touch him.
“Clarissa?” His voice tugged her back.
She blinked at him, a little dazed. “Wh-what?”
He chuckled low in his chest. “Are you still mad I carried you in front of your colleagues? I didn’t want your injury to get worse. And I made sure no one recognized you.”
Then his voice dropped a little, and he looked away as if wounded. “I know you don’t like me. Don’t worry… unless you give permission, I won’t let anyone know there’s something between us.”
“There isn’t anything between us!” Clarissa blurted. “We’re just… ordinary siblings!”
Atticus sighed dramatically. “Right, right. So let me help you, dear sister.”
Clarissa stared at him for a moment, then she flopped back against the couch, threw her legs out, and huffed, “Fine. Just do it.”
Atticus’s heart skipped a beat at her cute action. He wanted to pull her in, kiss her breathless, but her injury came first.
He gently touched her swollen ankle—and she instantly sucked in a breath.
“Hiss…”
His expression turned serious. “It hurts that much?”
Clarissa bit her lip, nodding slightly. “Yeah…”
She’d been distracted earlier, carried everywhere by him, so her legs hadn’t really taken her weight. But now, the pain hit in full.
As Atticus touched her again—his fingers warm and slow against her skin—Clarissa’s breath grew uneven.
Clarissa’s skin was porcelain-soft and pale, almost translucent. Her ankle was swollen, red and bruised, tinged with a faint blue that made the injury look all the more raw and painful. Atticus held her foot gently, examining it with a furrowed brow.
“Dislocated.” he said quietly, shaking his head at her.
“To the hospital?”
Atticus smirked, amused. “My dear sister, do you think there’s anyone more capable than me?”
Clarissa was momentarily speechless.
Atticus stood and walked into the kitchen, returning moments later with a rolled-up hot towel, which he handed to her. “Bite down on this. I’m going to put it back.”
She glanced at her ankle warily but reached out and took the towel, pressing it between her teeth.
As Atticus touched her swollen ankle, he noticed her body tremble slightly under his hands. His eyes narrowed, but his touch remained careful and gentle.
“Clarissa,” he said softly, “look at me.”
She obeyed instinctively, meeting his gaze.
Then came a sharp, crisp *click*—and her expression froze, pain and shock crashing over her at once. Tears sprang to her eyes without warning.
Atticus had wanted to distract her, to ease the moment—but her reaction was far stronger than he expected. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead.