Chapter167 – Atticus! Let her go!
“Sis? Clarissa?”
Atticus’s voice broke her train of thought, pulling her back to the present.
Clarissa turned to look at him, slightly dazed. “Hm? What is it?”
At first, Atticus thought she might be suspicious of something. But when she met his eyes, her gaze was soft, natural—completely unguarded. He felt a quiet wave of relief.
“I’m a little thirsty,” he said.
“Thirsty? Do you want hot water? Or maybe warm milk? I’ll get it for you.”
“Just water is fine.”
Clarissa turned and headed off. She had just poured a cup of warm water and was about to return when someone suddenly burst through the door, bumping hard into her and sending the water sloshing over her arm.
She nearly lost her balance, catching herself on the back of the couch just in time.
Yuriko Nomiya rushed straight past her toward Atticus, her expression pale with urgency.
“Atticus! Are you okay? Can I take a look at your wound? I brought the best healing ointment—please, I hope you’ll let me use it.”
She dropped to a crouch in front of him, holding out a small, ornate porcelain bottle, her eyes shimmering with concern.
Atticus’s expression remained neutral. “I appreciate your concern, but the injury is healing just fine.”
As he spoke, he pressed a button beside the armrest. The motorized wheelchair quietly shifted and moved toward Clarissa.
“Did you burn yourself?” he asked, eyeing the water that had soaked her sleeve.
Clarissa shook her head. “No, it’s just warm water. I’m fine. I’ll pour you another cup.”
She turned and left the room again.
Atticus watched her walk away, but his gaze turned cold.
Yuriko approached again, not giving up.
“Don’t care about her,” she said, her voice coaxing. “Use my medicine—just once, and you’ll feel so much better.”
As she reached to lift the blanket covering him, Atticus’s hand shot out and stopped her.
Yuriko froze, looking up—only to be shoved away the next second.
“Atticus…”
“Get out.”
His voice was cold, detached. “For that shove you gave her earlier, I could’ve cut off your hand. I won’t say it again. Leave.”
The intensity in his voice made Yuriko’s entire body tremble. Without another word, she turned and fled, tears welling up as she disappeared through the door.
When Clarissa returned a moment later, she glanced around in surprise. “Where’s Yuriko Nomiya?”
“She had to leave early. Something came up.”
Clarissa walked over and held out the cup. “Here, drink some water. I think the temperature’s just right.”
Atticus looked at her for a moment, then said, “Feed me.”
Clarissa blinked. “You’re a grown man. Come on, just take it.”
He turned his head stubbornly. “Then I guess I’ll just stay thirsty.”
“Atticus?” Clarissa frowned slightly. Something had clearly shifted—he had been cheerful earlier, but now his mood had taken a sharp dive.
“Are you upset about something?” she asked, watching him closely.
Atticus didn’t answer right away. His eyes met hers again, this time darker, more intense. “Then feed me.”
“You’re ridiculous. You’re not a child, you know,” Clarissa said, half-scolding.
“I don’t care,” he said simply. “If you don’t feed me, I’m not drinking.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, his voice unapologetically stubborn, almost childish.
Clarissa stared at him, torn between irritation and amusement. Eventually, she let out a soft laugh and gave in.
Clarissa always felt that Atticus could be like a child throwing a tantrum for candy. Was this how all injured men acted?
She walked up to him with a resigned smile. “Okay, fine. I’ll feed you. Happy now?”
Atticus’s eyes lit up as she leaned in. Then, without warning, he reached out, pulled her toward him, and caught her off guard. The cup in her hand slipped and clattered to the floor, warm water splashing across the tiles.
“Atticus—mmph?!”
Before she could react, Atticus cupped the back of her head and pulled her down into a kiss, his lips claiming hers with a sudden, demanding intensity.
Clarissa’s eyes widened in shock. She didn’t dare struggle—he was still injured—but her resistance melted quickly. Her body softened under his touch, and the next moment, she found herself kneeling between his legs, breathless.
Atticus looked down at her flushed face and the way she panted slightly, seductively, and couldn’t help but chuckle. He traced her lips lightly with his fingertip and smirked. “This works better than any water.”
“You—!”
Clarissa’s face burned crimson. She pushed him away and scrambled to her feet, but before she could leave, Atticus pulled her back into his arms.
“You didn’t feel anything,” he said lowly, “when you saw another woman get close to me?”
Clarissa blinked, half angry, half amused. So that’s what this was about?
“You’re upset over that?” she asked, looking at him with disbelief. “She just came to check on you.”
Atticus muttered something under his breath about her being too damn clueless.
Just as he was about to explode in frustration, Clarissa reached up and gently brushed a loose strand of hair off his forehead.
“My Atticus is handsome and capable. It’s only natural that other girls are drawn to you,” she said with a soft smile. “Why would I be mad? If I let jealousy get to me every time, I’d never have peace.”
Atticus froze. His heart, which had been thudding with annoyance just moments ago, skipped a beat. Her words landed like a quiet earthquake in his chest.
“Clarissa…” he murmured.
“Hm?” She tilted her head in confusion, and before she could react, Atticus cupped her face and kissed her again—hard, hungry, and completely unapologetic.
Somehow, without her realizing it, he’d pulled her into his lap, settling her carefully on his good leg. His hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers tracing the soft warmth of her skin.
But just as things heated up, the door creaked.
Dorian had noticed it was ajar and, without knocking, pushed it open—and stopped dead in his tracks.
His pupils contracted sharply at the sight before him. Then, in a voice filled with rage, he barked, “Atticus! Let her go!”
Startled, Clarissa flinched and quickly pushed Atticus away, standing up in a fluster, struggling to straighten her clothes.
Atticus’s eyes darkened in irritation. The one time he finally got to enjoy a moment like this, and this idiot showed up again.
“Dorian,” he said icily, “didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?”
“What the hell are you doing to Clarissa?” Dorian growled.
Atticus leaned back lazily, his lips curling into a taunting smile. “Do I need to spell it out? Clarissa and I are together. If you have half a brain, you’ll turn around and quietly close the door behind you.”
“You—!”
Dorian’s face was dark with fury. He looked toward Clarissa, who stood facing away from him.
“Clarissa, I—”
“Dorian, get out!” she snapped, her voice cracking with emotion, her eyes glistening.
Dorian clenched his fists. He wanted to say something, anything—but the words caught in his throat. He knew whatever he said now would sound like a weak excuse. Clarissa wouldn’t believe him..
Atticus smiled with smug satisfaction and said coldly, “Didn’t you hear her? She told you to leave.”
Dorian’s jaw tightened. He shot Atticus one last glare. “You won’t be smug for long. I’ll make sure everyone sees you for who you really are.”
He turned to Clarissa, gaze lingering for a second, then left without another word.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Clarissa dropped onto the nearby sofa, drained.
Atticus pushed himself up and walked over to her, settling beside her and wrapping his arms around her from behind. “He’s gone.”
She turned slightly, red-eyed and still flustered. “How dare you! That was humiliating... If it weren’t for you—!”
Atticus tried to suppress a smile, knowing full well she was embarrassed beyond words.
Clarissa buried her face in her hands. “I can’t show my face ever again…”