Chapter210 – My boyfriend
The next day, after breakfast, Clarissa disappeared back into the study. She only came out when Atticus called her to eat.
His face was dark. Even after her explanation the night before, irritation lingered when he saw her bury herself in work, ignoring him completely.
That night, Clarissa had just stepped out of the shower when Atticus tugged her into bed.
The moment his shadow fell over her, she knew what he wanted. She planted both hands on his chest, pushing him back.
“No, not tonight.”
She twisted and dodged, trying to stop him. He hesitated, then eased his grip, his voice low. “Why?”
Clarissa avoided his burning gaze. “I have to get up early tomorrow. There’s a lot on my plate.”
She knew how he was—once they started, there was no end. Yes, the pleasure was real, but so was the ache. If she let him have his way, she’d be wrecked until morning, unable to drag herself out of bed, much less function at work.
Her thoughts steeled her resolve. She shoved him off and pulled the blanket tight. “Go to sleep.”
She rolled over, closing her eyes. But it wasn’t long before a hot, solid body pressed against her back, a hand sliding down her waist.
Heat flared across her skin. She caught his hand, flustered. “Atticus!”
His voice rumbled from behind her. “You sleep. I’ll just take care of myself.”
Clarissa’s cheeks burned. Furious, she hissed, “If you keep this up, go back to your room.”
He stilled, then pulled her close, voice filled with wounded grievance. “I’m sorry. Go to sleep. I won’t bother you anymore.”
But his body stayed hard and hot against her. There was no way she could relax like this.
Her breath quickened, face flushed. Finally, she sighed in defeat and turned, wrapping her arms around him.
Atticus arched a brow, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong? Weren’t we supposed to be sleeping?”
“You—” Clarissa glared at him, whispering through clenched teeth, “If you’re going to do it, then do it quick. Just once tonight.”
His eyes flared, lit with fire. In the next breath, he rolled her beneath him, pinning her to the sheets. “Fine. Once. I promise.”
What she didn’t realize was that Atticus’s idea of “once” would last them until dawn.
The next morning, her alarm rang twice, but she silenced it both times without waking properly. It wasn’t until Atticus shook her gently that she stirred, bleary-eyed and bone-tired.
“So sleepy…” she mumbled, her voice hoarse.
Atticus chuckled, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bathroom. He washed her up himself, then set her at the vanity to do her makeup, guiding her like a doll. His eyes sparkled with smug amusement as he fussed over her.
By breakfast, Clarissa was finally awake, though still sore, drained, and groggy.
She shot him a withering look across the table, but he only blinked innocently. “Why are you staring at me? Eat up, or you’ll be late.”
“You—if it weren’t for you…” Clarissa bit back the rest, cheeks blazing. Too embarrassed to argue, she vented her anger on the food instead.
When she stood to leave, Atticus’s gaze fell to her high heels. “I’ll drive you.”
“No,” she refused instantly.
But he reached for her hand, his tone coaxing. “You look tired. Let me take you. I’ll pick you up after work too.”
Her lips parted to decline again, but he cut her off quickly. “My dear sister, I was wrong. But when I touch you, I lose control. Let me make it up to you, hm?”
Her heart softened against her will. With a sigh, she relented. “Fine. Get the keys. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
His eyes lit up. He darted off like an eager teenager, returning moments later to drive her.
When he pulled up in front of her office, he leaned in, his tone low and serious. “Don’t go anywhere else tonight. Wait for me here. Things are still unstable—I need to be with you.”
Clarissa met his burning gaze, her heart pounding despite herself. She gave him a helpless smile. “I understand.”
Girls were supposed to be clingy in love, weren’t they? But with her, it was the opposite.
So she leaned down and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Happy now?”
Atticus’s eyes darkened. He hooked a hand behind her head and captured her lips in a deep kiss.
By the time he pulled away, Clarissa’s face was scarlet, her breath shaky.
Atticus licked his lips, a smug smile tugging at his mouth. “That’s how it should be.”
His fingers traced her lips, a featherlight caress. “I’ll pick you up this afternoon. Be good.”
Clarissa shoved him away with a huff and turned to leave.
The moment she spun around, she froze. Oriana stood in the doorway, eyes wide in shock, and beside her, William, lips pressed into a tight line.
Clarissa instantly understood the look Atticus had given her just moments ago. Her stomach sank, but she kept her composure, walking forward with calm, measured steps.
Oriana snapped back to herself first, hurrying after her. “Miss Clarissa! Wasn’t that the medical examiner from the autopsy? You and him…”
Clarissa nodded lightly, her tone even. “My boyfriend.”
Oriana’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Oh my god! My colleagues said you hugged him the second he showed up, and I thought they were just teasing. Turns out it’s real. Your boyfriend is so damn handsome! Next time anyone dares say you got dumped, I swear I’ll—”
Clarissa cut her off with a sharp look. “Still gossiping? You’ve got five minutes before clock-in.”
Oriana gasped, panicked, and scurried off, muttering under her breath.
Clarissa then turned to William. His gaze was dark, heavy, his jaw tense. For a beat, she hesitated, then offered him a small, polite smile. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”
His hand twitched at his side, and he forced his voice into something steady. “Fine. I was abroad for a while. When I came back, I heard about what happened to you. I was worried, so I wanted to see you. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“No,” Clarissa said gently. “Thank you for your concern.”
The truth was, he had wanted to go straight to her house, but the reality of their past—of what they no longer were—kept him from crossing that line. Instead, he had come to her new company, clinging to a faint hope of running into her. And now, here she was… with someone else.
“It’s sweltering out here,” Clarissa added. “If you don’t mind, why don’t you come up for some tea?”
William nodded. “Alright.”
Inside her office, Clarissa moved with graceful ease, preparing the tea herself. Soon, a delicate, fragrant cup sat before him.
He accepted it, took a sip, and found his throat tightening.
“How is it?” Clarissa asked.
“It’s… very good. I didn’t know you were this skilled.”
She smiled faintly. “I’m no expert, just a tea enthusiast. Phoenix loves tea, so I learned a little from her.”
William’s gaze lingered on her face—the soft curve of her smile, her luminous skin, the faint flush on her cheeks, her lips tinted a perfect rose. She looked even more beautiful, more radiant than the last time he’d seen her. Not worn down, not broken, but dazzling.
His heart squeezed. He tore his gaze away, staring instead into the pale green depths of the tea, clinging to the bitterness at the back of his throat.
Then her voice came again, light and familiar. “And your work? Is it going smoothly? Did you resolve that issue from before?”
She remembered. His chest warmed for a fleeting second.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “That was settled six months ago. Did you forget already?”
Clarissa’s lips curved, a little embarrassed. “Sorry. It feels like it was just yesterday.”
Inside, William’s smile was bitter. Forgotten—that was what he was to her. Forgotten. And he had no right to expect otherwise.
He forced out another question, his voice tight. “And you? How’s the company holding up?”
“For now, things are stable,” Clarissa said, though her tone carried a hint of weight. She told him, briefly, about the recent events.
William’s face hardened. “Have you considered this might be connected to when you almost drowned?”
“Drowning?” Clarissa shook her head quickly. “Impossible. That incident was tied to the Harrington family. Zachary had nothing to do with them.”
“Do you have enemies in the Harrington family?”
She frowned, thinking. “I’ve always had a poor reputation with them, yes. But that was years ago. Whatever the servants thought of me, they wouldn’t dare go that far.”
“Clarissa,” William said slowly, his voice weighted with concern, “you can’t judge people by appearances. And think about the wedding, the engagement party, Dorian and the others—”
Clarissa missed the intensity of his gaze, but his words stuck.
Dorian? Could it really be him?
No. Instinctively, she felt it wasn’t. But the doubt lodged itself in her heart all the same.
Just as Clarissa was sinking into her thoughts, the door on the other side of the office burst open.
A familiar, sweet voice rang out.
“Clarissa! I missed you so much!”
Before either of them could react, Clarissa found herself swept into the arms of a petite figure dressed in blue and white.
Delilah buried her face against her, nuzzling like a spoiled child. “I knew you’d be here. I missed you so much. I wanted to come sooner, but they wouldn’t let me. It must have been that awful Atticus—he probably said something to keep me away. He’s so mean.”
Clarissa sighed, brushing a hand over her hair with helpless affection. Today, Delilah’s hair wasn’t braided. Instead, it was tied into a high ponytail, flowing down like a dark waterfall. A ribbon and a pearl flower clip nestled in the strands, making her look fresh and luminous.
Her hair—so fine and smooth it gleamed like satin—had always been something the maids spent over an hour perfecting every morning. It was so soft beneath Clarissa’s fingers that she found herself stroking it again.
Delilah, delighted by the attention, tilted her head like a little kitten, wordlessly asking for more.
Clarissa couldn’t help but laugh. “Stop that. Sit down. I have a guest here.”
Only then did Delilah notice William sitting nearby.
She blinked, then smiled brightly. “Hello! I know you.”
William gave her a polite nod. “Hello. I’m sorry about last time.”
Delilah tilted her head, thought for a moment, then her face lit up in recognition. “Oh, you mean that little accident? It’s nothing. Just a scratch—it’ll heal in a few days.”
William’s lips curved faintly, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Clarissa rose quickly and went to the refrigerator, pulling out a pudding cup and a small tub of ice cream. She always kept the office stocked with snacks, not for herself, but for this little girl who seemed to live off them.