Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 11: Ms. Shaw, I Saw It

Little did she know that after saying this, the man’s gaze grew even deeper, with a glint of coldness flashing inside.

Claire was actually somewhat afraid, knowing his identity, his superiority and prestige. Any move from him could easily crush her like a small ant.

This action of hers was undoubtedly dancing around his minefield repeatedly.

But Claire had no other choice.

If she wanted to keep her job, she had to draw a line between herself and the man.

At a loss, Ethan Blackwood suddenly released the arm around her waist, the pressure dissipated, and even the thin air rushed in, allowing Claire to breathe a sigh of relief.

The man, with a composed face, locked his eyes on Claire’s face and said meaningfully, "Then I shall await Ms. Shaw’s grand arrival."

Ethan Blackwood turned around, casually grabbed his coat and draped it over his shoulder, striding towards Claire.

Stopping just before her, he raised his hand to gently brush her tender cheek, eyes filled with danger, "Ms. Shaw, pleasing me won’t be that easy, I’m very much looking forward to your performance."

His fingertips were scorching, the rough texture scraping against her cheek, slightly painful.

She sensed that Ethan was angry.

Even though Owen Crawford was dismissed, she seemed to have stumbled into a bigger predicament.

The next day, Claire was preoccupied with this matter, restless, and her state worried her friend Mia Hughes.

However, it amused Clare’s always-jealous coworker, Yasmin Yorke, who mocked her thoroughly.

As night fell, the stars sparkled in the sky.

One by one, the lights on campus went out, it was already half-past eight in the evening when Claire left.

Behind her, the school was dead silent, distant lights flickered, and she stood in the darkness, appearing particularly lonely.

Just as she got into the car and was about to start it, the phone screen flashed with a contact name—Mr. Sutton.

"Hello."

"Owen Crawford is about to get engaged to your sister, I hope you will maintain your dignity and not cling to him anymore." With that, Damian Sutton hung up the phone.

How laughable, she really thought the man called ’father’ was calling to care about her, but it turned out it was still for his legitimate daughter.

And as an illegitimate child, she wasn’t worth mentioning in his eyes.

Claire grasped the steering wheel tightly, the pain in her heart made it hard to breathe.

Her gaze fell on the avatar marked [Mason Blackwood’s Dad].

His avatar was a sharp knife thrust into the ground, its blade emitting a cold gleam in the night, one could easily imagine how sharp the buried part was.

Just like himself, dominant, fierce.

She thought she would hear from him today after saying what she said yesterday.

The last contact in the chat interface was when she mentioned the game was over, scrolling upwards the few records were mostly room numbers or trivial phrases like "I’m here."

There was no small talk, even more distant than ordinary friends, yet they had shared the most intimate experiences.

Claire had never been curious about his identity, nor had she looked through his moments or cared for his life.

Perhaps she was too upset and wanted to find something to ease her emotions.

She impulsively clicked on the knife avatar, intending to see what kind of moments a person like him would post.

Unexpectedly, her hand shook, and she clicked twice, causing a line to pop up at the bottom of the chat interface.

I tapped on "Mason Blackwood’s Dad."

Terrified, Claire blushed furiously, hurriedly retracted it, and quickly tossed the phone to the passenger seat.

She ignited the engine, stepped on the gas, poised to flee the Earth at any second.

The phone beeped, displaying a new message.

Claire glanced at it out of the corner of her eye, clearly written was:

[Ms. Shaw, I saw it.]

Claire’s face turned even redder, now she couldn’t clear her name even by jumping into the Yellow River.

She didn’t intend to reply and hastily shifted gears to leave.

As the lights came on, a man stood in the beam.

The haloed light outlined the man’s tall and sleek figure, broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs.

This silhouette was all too familiar.

It couldn’t be such a coincidence, Claire looked closely, but before she could make out the man’s features, he shook his lit-up phone at her.

Claire: "..."

It was Ethan Blackwood.

This was the epitome of awkwardness, compounded by a mother of awkwardness opening a door for it, reaching peak awkwardness!

He blocked her way, and her desire to escape failed.

Watching the man stride over, all Claire could do was lock the car door.

"Knock, knock."

Through the window, she looked outside, Ethan bent two fingers to lightly tap on the glass, then lifted his phone the next second.

The phone was in landscape, with a line flashing in the memo app.

[What do you want to see? Open the door, and I’ll show you.]

At this moment, Claire’s face was as red as her ears, what could be more embarrassing than a slip of the hand caught red-handed?

Her toes curled, wishing she could dig a hole and disappear underneath the car.

Seeing she had no intention to open the door, the man replaced it with another line.

[Sweetheart, be good, open the door, let me in.]

Though a perfectly normal sentence, it reminded Claire of the past.

That month, she had proactively asked him out a few times, and the sent messages vanished without a reply.

She thought the man was tired of this relationship, and just as she was about to delete his contact, she was awakened by a voice message at three in the morning.

In the pitch-black night, his voice was weary yet magnetic: "Come down."

"I’m in your underground garage." 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Claire didn’t think twice, descending in her nightgown.

From afar, she spotted an SUV parked in a dark corner, its window rolled down, revealing the man’s muscular arm.

The scarlet cigarette butt glowed in the darkness, and he extinguished it upon seeing her approach.

The black SUV, specially modified, looked even larger than a Range Rover, the body was muddy, as if hurriedly coming through wind and dust like its owner.

As the car door opened, she barely managed to speak before being yanked into his embrace by his iron-strong arms.

"Click."

The car door locked.

In the dim garage, the light was faint, the temperature rising.

Claire’s delicate body crashed into his solid chest, he was wearing a black shirt, several buttons undone at the collar, exuding a casual wildness.

The man’s ruggedly handsome face was sharpened in the darkness, his long fingers pinched Claire’s chin, his voice hoarse: "Did you miss me?"

Claire instinctively equated the ’miss’ with that kind of thing, blushing, she murmured softly, "Missed you."

Her interest in the man was never hidden, as it revolved around that very thing.

He chuckled lowly, the sound holding a post-drunk magnetic rasp, intoxicating.

It sent a shiver to Claire’s heart, his gaze landed on her nightgown.

In her haste, she’d forgotten to grab a coat.

Without any barriers inside, the silk thin as cicada’s wings covered her fullness, and just from his heated gaze, Claire’s body temperature soared, a tingly electric current spreading through her.

He leaned down, his faint lips landing on her neck.

"Don’t..."