Chapter 10: Using Beauty as a Weapon; Will He Bite?

After a few moments, the door opened.

A tall silhouette loomed over her. Leo looked like he had just finished a workout; he was in a black tank top that clung to his muscular frame. His arm muscles were corded and defined, and his biceps flexed as he wiped sweat away.

The contours of his chest were visible under the fabric, radiating a sheer, raw power.

On the night of their encounter, the lights had been off. She hadn't been able to properly appreciate his physique. But she had felt it.

It was intense. High-tension masculinity.

The memory made her throat go dry.

Leo wiped the sweat from his brow and looked down at the woman staring at him. "Something you need?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

Clara’s red lips curled into a flirtatious smile. "Working out, Captain?"

"Get to the point," he said, impassive.

Clara took a step forward, her slender finger hooking into his belt loop. "Why so grumpy? Is someone sexually frustrated?"

Her voice was soft and seductive—an overt provocation.

Leo swatted her hand away from his belt. He leaned his large, wild frame against the doorframe, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

"Keep your hands to yourself."

Clara chuckled at his stiff, "proper" act. "Why are we pretending we're strangers? I know exactly where the moles are on your hip."

Leo’s jaw tightened. "I don't have moles on my hip."

Clara arched an eyebrow, her beautiful eyes shimmering with mischief. "Oh? Then why don't you show me and prove it?"

Realizing she was baiting him, he extended a long finger and pressed it against her shoulder to stop her from getting closer. "Clara Ye, don't use your beauty as a weapon. I’m not buying what you’re selling."

Clara pouted. "You seemed to be buying it quite enthusiastically that night."

Leo: "..."

He had never met a woman this bold, this shameless, and this captivating all at once. He was almost tempted to laugh out of sheer frustration.

"You're the one who said 'no strings attached.' What, are you having second thoughts?" Before she could answer, he added coldly, "Stop flirting. I'm not interested."

Clara looked at his ruggedly handsome face, her eyes filled with a sultry charm. "Not interested? You went for round after round that night. You seem to be 'hard' in every sense of the word."

Her gaze drifted suggestively toward his waist.

Leo stiffened, his ears turning hot. "Have some dignity."

"Will 'dignity' get the Captain into bed?"

Leo’s jaw set into a hard line as he looked away from her enchanting face. "Seriously, why are you here?"

Clara knew when to quit. If she pushed any further, she’d actually annoy him.

She waved her phone in front of his face. "I sent a friend request over an hour ago. Are you ignoring it or just pretending not to see it? Even if we aren't 'friends with benefits,' we still need to communicate for work, right?"

She stood on her tiptoes, her lips inches from his ear. "Or does the Captain find it hard to separate business from pleasure?"

The warmth of her breath, mingled with the scent of her post-shower soap, hit him all at once. The air between them grew thick with an unspoken tension.

Leo’s broad back was pressed against the doorframe. His Adam's apple bobbed. His hand instinctively gripped her small, soft waist, his gaze sweeping over her long, pale legs visible under her nightgown.

On that night, she had been wrapped around him.

As the unbidden image flashed in his mind, his lower abdomen tightened. He used his palm to firmly push her back out of his space.

"I'll approve it in a bit."

Bang.

The door slammed shut.

Clara’s nose nearly hit the wood. She puffed out her cheeks and shook her fist at the door.

Jerk. I hope you stay that 'hard' forever.

She went back to her apartment. It took another thirty minutes before he finally approved the request.

Hmph. Aloof and arrogant.

In the middle of the night, thunder rolled and lightning cracked.

In a deep, dark alleyway, a woman in a white dress ran frantically. Several men laughed wickedly behind her. She was out of breath, but eventually, they caught her by her long hair. Her dress was torn—the world spun, and she was dragged into the abyss.

On her bed, Clara was drenched in a cold sweat, her face pale. Her hands were clenched tightly over the silk duvet. She was trapped in a nightmare.

The scene shifted. The woman in the white dress lay in a cold forest. Blood pooled around her, her eyes wide and staring—unable to rest in peace.

A deafening crack of thunder shook the windows.

Clara’s eyes flew open, and she sat up with a jolt.

Her nightgown was soaked, and her heart was hammering against her ribs. She pressed her hand to her chest, gasping for air until the suffocating pain began to recede.

After a long moment, she got out of bed and headed for the shower.

Leo was drifting in a light sleep when he heard a knock at the door.

He hadn't slept well because of the case. He had finally managed a few hours when he was woken up. He felt agitated.

He rubbed his temples and ignored the knocking. He didn't need to guess who it was—it was definitely that woman again. It was the middle of the night; did she ever let people sleep?

The knocking stopped, and he assumed she had gone back home. Then, his phone started ringing with a video call.

Leo didn't answer. His face a mask of annoyance, he threw on a navy blue robe and marched to the front door.

"Clara Ye, can you stop being so—"

The words died in his throat.

The woman standing there was clutching a pillow, her hair disheveled, with tears streaking down her face.

Something was wrong. Usually, she was vibrant, bold, and full of life. Now, she was pale, her eyes were red, and she looked like a fragile, broken doll.

"What happened?" Leo asked, his voice deep and concerned.

Clara’s wet lashes trembled. "Captain Sterling... can I stay here tonight?"

Leo’s lips thinned. "No."

"I won't do anything. I just... I just need someone nearby."

Leo’s eyes darkened. "Don't tell me a forensic pathologist is afraid of a thunderstorm."

Clara didn't say another word. She bit her lip hard, her lashes fluttering down as fresh tears spilled over.

Leo: "..."

Dammit!

He cursed under his breath and stepped aside.

Seeing him finally yield, Clara clutched her pillow and hurried inside.

Leo shut the door and pointed to the guest room. "You sleep in there."

The apartment layouts were identical, so Clara knew exactly where the master bedroom was. She ignored him and walked straight into his room.

Leo caught up to her in a few strides. "Clara, I said I don't do this with colleagues—"

Clara turned to him, her eyes misty and full of a pitiful vulnerability. "Captain, why is your head full of nothing but trash? I’m not trying to jump you. Don't flatter yourself."

Leo was nearly tempted to laugh. It was the middle of the night, she was in his master bedroom in a nightgown, and she was telling him

not

to overthink it?

Seeing his guarded, hard expression, Clara poked his chest. "Relax. I’m not in the mood. I’m not 'hungry' for you tonight."

Leo: "..."

Well, thanks for that.

His bed was a two-meter-wide, minimalist gray leather floating bed—understated but high-end. The room was sparsely decorated, tidy, and disciplined, much like his personality.

Clara lay down with her pillow. She looked at the man standing at the door and bit her lip. "You can either sleep on the bed with me or on the floor."

Leo: "Keep dreaming. I’m going to the guest room."

Another boom of thunder shook the building.

Clara’s face paled even further. "Captain... for the sake of our former 'friendship,' please just stay with me?"

Leo worked in Investigations; he knew psychology. He could see that this normally defiant woman was truly terrified.

He went into the walk-in closet, grabbed a duvet, and spread it on the floor next to the bed.

Clara watched him choose the floor over the bed. Annoyed, she threw his pillow at him.

"One of these days, I’m going to make you beg to be on this bed."

Leo: "..."