Chapter230 – Hurry—get up!
He finally got it into a cage, then summoned the inn staff. When he turned back, Clarissa was curled up in the corner of a chair, knees hugged to her chest like a frightened child, still refusing to put her feet on the floor.
He couldn’t help but laugh softly, then crossed the room and lifted her into his arms. “Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. It isn’t venomous. The forests out here are full of snakes. Not unusual for one to slip inside. Tomorrow I’ll put repellents under the bed, all right?”
His voice was gentle, soothing, and slowly her trembling eased, though she still refused to step down.
The staff soon arrived, faces lighting up at the sight of the python. They grasped Atticus’s hand in thanks. “Sir, thank you—thank you! Are you really letting us have it?”
Atticus gave a half-smile. “What use do I have for it? Take it. But be sure to bring snake repellent tomorrow.”
“Of course, of course!” the man gushed, carting away the cage.
Behind him, Clarissa’s shaken voice asked, “Atticus… what are they going to do with it?”
He gave her a sly look. “What do you think? Where else would the restaurant get all that snake soup?”
Her stomach lurched. She barely made it to the bathroom before she was retching.
By the time she returned, pale and exhausted, an hour had slipped away. She finally crawled back into bed, still jittery, clinging to him for comfort. “Atticus… can we change rooms? Please?”
“It’s too late tonight. We’ll do it tomorrow.” He wrapped her up, trailing kisses down her hairline, across her temple.
“But—”
Her protest cut off in a gasp as he suddenly rolled her beneath him. Only then did she realize she hadn’t even changed out of her clothes.
“Atticus—” she pushed at his shoulders, breath coming fast, cheeks burning. “Don’t…”
Clarissa opened her mouth to speak, but Atticus didn’t give her the chance. His lips crashed onto hers, hungry, demanding, relentless.
Tonight, there was no patience in him, no tenderness. His movements were forceful, almost punishing, as though he couldn’t get enough of her. Clarissa’s protests melted into gasps, her thoughts drowning under the weight of his breath, his body, his husky whispers against her ear.
“Clarissa… Clarissa…”
The bed beneath them groaned louder and louder, shaking violently with each thrust. Clarissa’s hazy mind snapped back to clarity just as the wood gave way.
Crack!
With a deafening bang, the bamboo frame collapsed beneath them.
Clarissa’s eyes flew wide. Mortified, she shoved at his shoulders. “Hurry—get up!!”
Atticus blinked in surprise, then smirked, pinning her wrists above her head again. His eyes blazed with a feverish light. “You want me to stop now? Do you want to kill me instead?”
Her jaw dropped. He actually still wanted to keep going?!
She tried to protest, but his mouth sealed hers again, swallowing her words. She bit down on his shoulder in fury, sinking her teeth in hard enough to make him grunt.
“You little devil,” he growled against her skin, his laugh ragged, aroused. “You’ve even learned to bite?”
The taste of his skin lingered on her tongue, her jaw aching from the pressure. But when he shifted, lifting her easily and sliding her down onto him, her anger was consumed by another rush of heat.
She sat astride him, trembling, the two of them joined. Her breath came in quick gasps, fury and shame and desire tangling in her chest. “Atticus!” she hissed, pressing a hand against his chest, trying to hold back the inevitable.
His lips devoured hers again, rough and unrelenting. “Be good. Just a minute…”
But his “minute” stretched into nearly two hours before he finally released her.
By the end, Clarissa was limp with exhaustion, unable to lift a finger. Atticus carried her to the bathroom, washed her gently despite his earlier roughness, dressed her in clean clothes, and only then went to demand another room.
.....
The next morning, word had already spread.
The moment Atticus stepped into the training grounds, he was swarmed by curious grins and knowing winks.
“Atticus, I heard your bed broke last night. You had to change rooms in the middle of the night, didn’t you?”
“Brother, you’re insane. Don’t you know rough play ruins your health?”
Atticus raised a brow, lips curving wickedly. “Something unexpected happened. That’s all.”
The deliberate ambiguity was fuel on the fire. The group erupted in catcalls and laughter.
“You monster!”
“Teach us your ways!”
Atticus let the noise wash over him, then lazily pressed a finger to his lips. “Want to know?”
They all nodded like eager puppies.
“Secret,” he drawled. Then, with a grin sharp enough to cut, he added, “My happiness is beyond your imagination.”
The men howled in mock despair. “Bastard!”
“Shameless!”
Meanwhile, in her room, Clarissa had just finished washing her face when she found herself ambushed by the women.
“Miss Clarissa…”
Clarissa froze, instantly wary. “Why are you all here so early?”
“Miss Clarissa, did your bed really collapse last night?”
Her lips twitched. Already? Who the hell spread this so fast?!
She set down her breakfast, ready to explain. “No, you’ve misunderstood, it’s not—”
“There’s no need to explain,” one of them cut her off with a knowing smile. “We all understand.”
The others nodded solemnly.
Clarissa’s frown deepened. Understand what, exactly?
Then came the whispers:
“Ahh, so passionate.”
“As expected of Atticus. You’re so lucky, Miss Clarissa.”
“Tell us, how was it? You have to share the details!”
“The bed collapsed—it must’ve been incredible.”
Clarissa: “…”
She wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again. Whoever started this rumor—if she found them, they were dead.
Not far away, Atticus sneezed while studying a chart. The men laughed. “See? You went too wild, now you’re catching a cold.”
Atticus just smirked knowingly, murmuring under his breath, “Little goblins must be cursing me behind my back.”
......
Elsewhere, Clarissa had barricaded herself in her room, refusing to leave all day.
Atticus, having finished his tasks, soon heard the news. She hadn’t stepped outside since morning.
With a faint smile, he instructed his team, then went to the restaurant to pack some of her favorite dishes. Returning to his room, he reached for the door—only to find it locked.
A glint of amusement flickered in his eyes. With a flick of his wrist, the lock clicked open.
Pushing the door, he stepped inside and called softly, “Clarissa?”
“Get out!”
Her voice was muffled, tinged with irritation. Atticus chuckled.
He set the food on the table and slowly approached the bed. Even in darkness, he spotted her small frame curled beneath the covers, only a few strands of long, soft hair peeking out.
Placing a hand gently on her head, he said, “Clarissa, I heard you haven’t eaten all day. I brought some of your favorites. Just eat a little before you sleep, okay?”
“Get out!” Her muffled reply came from beneath the blankets.
Atticus suppressed a laugh. He tugged gently at the corner of the covers. “Don’t stay huddled like that—it’s bad for your circulation. Be good… come on, show me your face.”
The covers didn’t budge. Surprised, he leaned closer, his voice lower now. “Clarissa… if you keep this up, I might have to use force.”
A faint shiver ran through her.
In the next heartbeat, the covers shifted. Clarissa revealed herself, cheeks flushed, a sheen of sweat on her brow, her delicate face pale and radiant. The mixture of anger and embarrassment made her stunningly compelling.
Atticus’ pupils darkened instantly, his calm exterior faltering.
“Come out… eat something,” he murmured.
Clarissa scowled. How can she even think about food right now?
Everyone in the crew—and even at the B\&B—already knew about the bed incident. The thought of their eyes on her made her want to vanish into the floor.
Atticus noticed her frown and smiled, darkly pleased. “See? Everyone’s jealous of you.”
“Envious of you, you narcissist!” she spat, glaring at him. She wanted to punch that handsome face of his—so frustrating, yet irresistibly infuriating.
Before they could continue their bickering, there was a knock at the door.
Oriana’s voice called out timidly, “Miss Clarissa? Are you there?”
Clarissa froze, then answered, “Yes… what is it?”
“Mark’s here. Do you want to see him?”
Clarissa’s eyes brightened at the mention of the newcomer. She rose immediately.
Atticus, still lingering beside her, grumbled in mock annoyance, “A man? Is it really necessary to get this excited?”
Clarissa shot him a glare, ignoring his teasing, and bent to slip on her shoes. “Go wait at the door,” she instructed firmly.
She moved swiftly toward the door, and as it opened, she caught Oriana peeking in, sheepish and guilty.
Clarissa flicked her forehead. “What are you looking at?”
Oriana yelped in pain, rubbing her head. “Miss Clarissa! That… hurts!”
“Of course it does. Maybe next time, you’ll think before you snoop,” Clarissa said with a smirk.
Oriana pouted but tried to save face. “I was just… following the public’s wishes!”
Clarissa crossed her arms, amused. “Do you think your salary and life are too comfortable? Maybe I should reconsider your year-end bonus.”
Oriana’s eyes widened. “No! I promise I won’t gossip again! I want to enjoy a peaceful Christmas with my bonus!”
At that moment, footsteps sounded behind them. Atticus had moved forward, tall and imposing, ignoring Clarissa’s glaring warning. He wrapped an arm around her slender waist.
“What are you still standing there for? Didn’t you say you were going to see Mark?”
He had heard of Mark before and was curious to see him. With a small, determined nod, she let Atticus guide her lightly toward the door, ready to face the newcomer.
Clarissa had wanted to meet Mark mainly because he’d just been cast as the male lead, and there were details she needed to iron out with him in advance.
By the time she and Atticus arrived, a crowd—mostly women—had already gathered.
Mark stepped out of the car, sunglasses low, his short silver hair catching the evening light, swaying slightly in the breeze.
Beside her, Oriana let out a soft gasp. “Get real star power now. He’s leveled up.”
Mark slid his sunglasses down just enough to catch sight of Clarissa. The smile in his eyes was immediate, warm, instinctive. He started toward her—until he noticed her hand locked tightly with Atticus’s. Their intimate, easy gesture stopped him dead in his tracks.
When he spoke, his tone was polite but edged with something else. “Ms. Clarissa, I never thought I’d wake up one day and find myself the leading man. You’ve been… more than generous. You saved me from a financial crisis, and now you’re willing to pay such a high salary for a nobody like me.”