Chapter208 – Go… go inside
Harrington Estate — Study
Dorian stared down at the photographs spread across his desk—and with a roar, swept them to the floor. “This is what you call an investigation?”
The glossy images showed Clarissa in intimate, unguarded moments with Atticus. Smiling at him. Touching him. Looking at him like he was the only man alive.
His chest clenched. For years, he’d believed Clarissa’s words were meant to provoke him, to punish him for the past. But the photos didn’t lie.
The way she gazed at Atticus wasn’t performance. She was in love with him.
And then he saw that picture—Clarissa in Atticus’s arms, half-naked on the balcony. His stomach twisted violently. His fury ignited, hot and consuming.
The assistant by his side flinched, trembling. “Mr. Dorian…”
“Useless!” Dorian snarled. “What good are these? What’s the point of bringing me this filth?”
The assistant’s hands shook as he held out the folder. “Sir… there’s one more page.”
“You’d better pray it’s worth something—or you won’t be working here tomorrow.”
He snatched up the folder, flipping to the last sheet. His eyes froze on the grainy photograph.
A masked man, caught from a distance. No clear face, no movement logs, no surveillance records. Just one candid shot.
But the height, the build, the commanding air of that half-hidden profile—Dorian would know it anywhere.
Atticus.
His jaw clenched as he turned his burning gaze on the secretary. “Why was he there? Why is this the only photo you have?”
The secretary paled, stammering. “M-Mr. Dorian, this was all we could find. Nothing else turned up.”
A pen holder flew across the room, striking the man’s head with a crack. Blood trickled down his forehead, but he didn’t dare move.
Dorian’s fury was uncharacteristic, terrifying.
Forcing down his rage with a harsh breath, Dorian sank back into his chair. His voice was low, lethal. “Give me one good reason. Otherwise… don’t bother coming in tomorrow.”
The secretary could only stammer out the truth. “Mr. Dorian, we’ve pushed the investigation as far as we could. But every time we get close—at the most critical moment—the trail is cut off.”
Dorian’s eyes narrowed, his fury tempered by cold calculation.
Cut off at the crucial moment? That meant someone was protecting him.
And who else could it be, if not Atticus?
If he was working so hard to hide his tracks, then there was something worth hiding.
Slowly, the corners of Dorian’s lips curled into a dark smile. “Perfect. Keep quiet about this. Keep digging. I don’t care what it costs or what methods you use—find out the truth.”
When the secretary left, Dorian’s gaze drifted back to the desk, a glint of ice in his eyes.
Atticus, enjoy yourself while you can. I won’t let you fool Clarissa much longer.
Clarissa had been running herself ragged lately. So when things suddenly went quiet, the calm felt strange. But with Atticus by her side, her days had fallen into a gentle rhythm—relaxing, almost happy. The only shadow over her heart was Zachary’s mess.
Who was really trying to destroy her?
Curled up on the sofa, she thought about it over and over, but the answer wouldn’t come.
She’d always been careful, never one to pick fights. Back in school, and even after graduation, she hadn’t made many enemies.
The only people who might hold grudges against her were Dorian and his circle.
But Lyra didn’t have the kind of personality that demanded revenge. And as for Dorian… Clarissa shook her head.
Dorian could be cold, even cruel—but if he wanted her gone, he’d do it openly, not from the shadows.
So who…?
She let out a long, frustrated sigh.
“What’s with the frown? You look like the world’s ending.”
Atticus’s voice broke her thoughts. He sank down beside her, offering her a washed plum.
Clarissa accepted it, taking a bite. Sweet, tart juice burst on her tongue, refreshing enough to ease the heaviness in her chest. “What else would I be thinking about?” she murmured.
Atticus didn’t miss a beat. “The company. The setup.”
Clarissa sighed again. “Yes. We still don’t know who did it. The stock’s been tanking, two-thirds of our investors have already pulled out…” Her voice tightened. “If this keeps up, even if I prove I was framed, I’ll be bankrupt. I’ll have to pay them all back.”
Her chest ached at the thought.
She had taken a risk for the first time in her life, started her own company from scratch—and now, just months later, everything was unraveling.
Atticus watched her small, defeated expression and couldn’t help himself. He laughed.
Clarissa whipped her head toward him, scandalized. “It’s come to this and you’re laughing?” She smacked his arm, hard.
But Atticus only laughed harder, catching her in his arms. “Clarissa, don’t pout…”
She glared up at him, ready to scold again, but he simply reached for the tablet on the coffee table. “You’ve been stuck at home too long. You’re overthinking. Let’s play. I’ll get you to level thirty today.”
Her eyes lit instantly. “Really?”
“Really.” His lips quirked, amused at how quickly her mood flipped. He hadn’t expected someone like Clarissa—a woman who once seemed untouchable—to be so taken with games.
As he moved deftly across the screen, Clarissa sighed wistfully. “I envy you. You guys get to play things like this now.”
“Envy?”
“Mm.” She nodded, distracted by the fight on the tablet. “When I was little, even Snake or Tetris was rare. Forget about games like this. Only rich kids had them. I was so jealous back then…”
She stopped mid-thought, suddenly realizing what she’d said. Her eyes darted up to Atticus.
His gaze was sharp, probing. “Clarissa… weren’t you always the Lancaster family’s daughter?”
Her heart lurched. Damn it.
Forcing a laugh, she waved him off. “I was just rambling. Don’t take it seriously. Now hurry up—didn’t you say you’d level me up?”
She tugged the tablet closer, using the game to shield herself.
Atticus studied her profile for a long moment. But instead of pressing, he silently logged into his account and continued the quest.
Clarissa let out the breath she’d been holding. That was close. Too close.
She was starting to slip around him—more comfortable, less guarded.
And one day, that slip could give her secret away.
As Atticus played with her, Clarissa sneaked a glance at him. He was fully absorbed, completely unaware of her subtle movements.
Her racing heart finally began to calm.
But the moment she turned back. His eyes locked on hers, dark and sharp, as though he could see right through her.
......
Atticus was relentless, guiding her all the way to level fifty.
Clarissa felt triumphant, grinning proudly at the glowing numbers above her character’s head.
Then, suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her from behind. His voice, low and warm, brushed against her ear. “Do you like it?”
“I do,” Clarissa said softly, tilting her head up. She cupped his face and pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek. “Atticus, you’re amazing.”
He stilled for a moment, then tightened his hold on her, his breath hot against her skin. “Is this enough?”
Clarissa knew exactly what he meant. Her cheeks flushed, but instead of backing away, she logged out of the game, turned to him, and kissed him full on the lips.
She was no longer resisting their closeness. Sometimes, she even surprised herself by initiating it.
A fire flickered in his eyes, and he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding across her body, leaving her trembling.
Clarissa moaned, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze hazy with desire. “Go… go inside.”
Atticus’s lips curved into a smile. But instead of obeying, he pressed her down onto the sofa, his voice rough and seductive. “Clarissa, it’s just the two of us here. No one else. It’s okay…”
Her head spun from the heat of his kiss, from his intoxicating breath on her skin. Thoughts scattered, leaving only sensation. One by one, clothes tumbled to the floor until there was nothing between them but heat and skin.
Their bodies tangled tightly together.
.....
Afterward, Clarissa was drained, unwilling to even lift a finger. The air conditioner blasted cool air, and sweat glistened on her skin. Atticus, ever meticulous, grabbed a blanket and draped it over her so she wouldn’t catch a chill.
She lay in his arms, dazed and quiet, trying to catch her breath.
Atticus, on the other hand, was in rare spirits. He trailed his mouth lower, closing around her nipple, his voice husky and sensual. “Clarissa…”
Her throat, hoarse from calling his name, burned. She coughed softly, and he immediately stopped, reaching for the fruit tea beside them. He lifted it to her lips, helping her drink.
The cool sweetness soothed her throat, easing the rawness.
But as she came back to herself, she felt a strange ache deep inside, a hollow soreness that made her want to cry.
Because they’d done it again—recklessly, without protection.
What was wrong with her? Why did she keep giving in to him so easily?
She pushed him weakly, frustration breaking through her exhaustion. “I told you not to keep doing this, and yet you always—”
“Always what?” Atticus’s voice dropped, his gaze deep and unreadable.
“I mean, every time you come inside me—” Clarissa’s voice cracked, thin and desperate. “I can’t keep doing this.”
If it continued like this, she really would end up pregnant.
Atticus, of course, understood what was going through her mind. His eyes darkened with thought, and then he asked quietly, “Has your period still been painful lately?”
“A little… but why the hell are you asking that now? Don’t try to change the subject.” She glared at him, annoyed.
But he only smiled faintly. “I’m not changing the subject. I just happened to have time recently, and I want to help you heal. Besides, the prescription I’ll give you also works as a contraceptive. It’s harmless, far safer than the pills you’re taking off the market.”
Clarissa blinked in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
She knew Atticus’s medical skills. She had no reason to doubt him—yet still, her heart raced.
Atticus’s expression turned almost pitiful. “You won’t even let me have a child with you? Do you dislike me that much…?”
His wounded tone made Clarissa want to laugh and cry at the same time.
“I don’t dislike you. Are you worried about my age?”
He hadn’t expected her to throw that back at him. Atticus blinked, caught off guard, and just as he opened his mouth, Clarissa shoved him hard.
“I knew it. Men are all the same.”
This time it was his turn to laugh helplessly. He caught her wrist and pulled her into his arms. “Clarissa, you know damn well that’s not what I meant. How could I ever despise you?”
She glanced up at him, catching the depth in his gaze, those eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her heart stumble. She quickly looked away. “Then… why are you in such a rush?”
Atticus lowered his head to her shoulder, his voice rough. “Because I’m afraid.”