Tempting Him to Lose Control

Chapter 33: Chapter 33: Can I Stay at Your Place?

Claire Kendall curled up on the sofa, a triumphant look in her eyes.

No fewer than a hundred schemes for seducing him had already run through her mind.

But nestled against the soft sofa, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

Her head began to nod. She was exhausted.

Miles Warren watched as her small face sank into the throw pillow. Her eyelashes fluttered gently as she slept soundly.

’She really lets her guard down around me.’

Miles Warren leaned over slightly, crouching in front of the sofa to bring himself to her eye level.

He stared at her for a long time, until his breathing grew uneven.

The man began to move uncontrollably closer, stopping only when he was just inches from her lips.

’Noble and pure?’

’He had never been.’

’In the dead of night, lost in his dreams, Miles Warren knew all too well how sordid and despicable he really was...’

After a moment of silence, he carefully slid one arm under the crook of her knees and the other firmly behind her back, lifting her into his arms.

Her head rested against his chest. Her body felt so light and soft.

Claire Kendall unconsciously nuzzled against his chest, murmuring something in her sleep before falling deeper into slumber.

Miles Warren gently placed her on the bed and pulled the thin blanket over her.

After a long moment, he turned and left.

The next morning, the moment Claire Kendall woke up and her senses returned, she was filled with regret.

’Such a perfect opportunity to be alone with him last night, and I actually fell asleep?!’

She left the guest bedroom to find the living room empty. Miles Warren had already left for the hospital. On the dining table, she found warm milk and bread waiting for her.

She sent Miles Warren a WhatsApp message to thank him, adding a cute sticker of a kitten pawing playfully.

Miles Warren replied quickly with a single word: "Mm."

Claire Kendall checked the time. ’He should be on his rounds right now, but he still replied so quickly.’

’Does this mean I hold a special place in his heart? My plan is making a huge leap forward.’

Her phone rang abruptly.

"Claire, something’s happened!" It was Wendy White, her voice fraught with anxiety. "Our Moonstone video account has been suspended, and all the raw material suppliers we’d negotiated with are suddenly pulling out of their contracts!"

Claire Kendall’s heart sank.

The video had just gone viral, and several clients had already contacted her, offering to pay a premium for custom-made garments from the Flowing Light Brocade.

Now, with this problem, if they couldn’t deliver the first batch of custom orders on time, it would definitely damage the reputation of both The Wexall Textile Mill and Moonstone.

Wendy White hesitated, her voice growing quieter.

"It seems like the Sinclair Group pulled some strings. Jacob Sinclair said that as long as you’re willing to bow your head and apologize, he’ll stop making things difficult for us."

Claire Kendall frowned. "I understand, Wendy. Don’t panic. I’ll figure something out."

’Apologize? In his dreams.’

Using such low-handed, despicable tactics... Claire Kendall found him repulsive.

’To think we dated for six years. I must have been blind.’

Claire Kendall made the rounds at the raw materials market.

The larger suppliers wanted nothing to do with orders from Moonstone or Wexall.

She then contacted a few smaller online suppliers. They were willing to ship to her, but their prices were exorbitant, and the quality couldn’t be guaranteed.

For the moment, there was no way to source the raw materials for the Flowing Light Brocade.

That afternoon, Claire Kendall went to the hospital to visit Cole, the chief of Wexall Village.

Miles Warren was waiting for her at the door to the room.

The village chief had lost his right hand to save his life, but when he saw Claire Kendall, a smile still spread across his weathered face.

"Don’t you worry about me. Dr. Warren is a brilliant doctor and a good man. He even brings me things sometimes."

Claire Kendall and the chief discussed some future plans for the textile mill, while Miles Warren listened quietly nearby.

When they were done, the two of them left the room together.

"Don’t worry," Miles said. "He should be able to go home in about a week."

Claire Kendall nodded, her eyes scanning the list of attending physicians on the wall. Rosalind Linden’s name wasn’t there.

"Dr. Linden isn’t here?"

Miles Warren’s tone was nonchalant. "I hadn’t noticed. She hasn’t been to work since we had hotpot."

He added in a low voice, "She probably just needs some rest."

...

She then visited her mother, Shirley Kendall, before leaving the hospital and returning to Regency Gardens.

The moment the elevator doors opened, she heard frantic pounding on a door.

"Hey, 502! Open up! Did you die in there or something?"

An expensively dressed woman with a head of curly hair was hammering on the door.

On the floor, a pool of water was seeping out from the crack under the door.

"Hello, I live in 502. Is there a problem...?"

The woman whipped around, her fingernails nearly poking Claire Kendall in the face.

"You’re the one renting 502?"

"Your place is flooding, you know that? My entire ceiling is soaked! My crystal chandelier—it’s imported from Italy!"

"I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry..."

Claire Kendall apologized as she unlocked the door.

Cold water gushed out, nearly rising past her ankles. A pipe near the bathroom had burst and was spraying water everywhere.

She immediately crouched down, fumbling inside a cabinet for the main shut-off valve.

"I must have the worst luck in the world to get a neighbor like you! You look like you’re broke!"

"What’s wrong?"

A low, cool voice asked. Miles Warren had just gotten back from the hospital.

His gaze swept over the disaster, finally landing on Claire Kendall, who was practically on her hands and knees in the water.

He strode inside and helped her to her feet.

Seeing him, Claire Kendall felt a sudden wave of grievance. She sniffled and held out her small, dirty hands. "The valve... I can’t reach it."

Miles Warren quickly crouched down to look.

"The joint burst. Shutting off this section won’t help."

"And who are you?" the woman’s voice rose. "Are you the repairman she called? Let me tell you, this is a huge problem..."

"I’m the owner of 501," Miles Warren said coldly.

The woman sneered. "The owner of 501? Then why are you sticking your nose in 502’s business?"

"Because 502 is my apartment, too."

The woman’s arrogant expression froze on her face.

’A large flat in Regency Gardens costs seventy to eighty million at a minimum, and he actually owns two?!’

Miles Warren took out his phone and dialed a number.

"Clay Lawson, 502 has a leak. Send someone over to take a look."

He glanced at the woman. "And 402 as well. Bill it to my special maintenance fund and compensate her according to the highest standard."

’Clay Lawson?’

The woman froze when she heard the name. He was the owner of the company that developed Regency Gardens.

Miles Warren hung up the phone, his voice icy. "Someone will contact you regarding compensation for the damages. If you have any further issues, you can take it up with my lawyer."

The woman’s face flushed red, then went pale. She stomped her foot and left in embarrassment.

Claire Kendall looked at the flooded mess in 502, and an idea sparked.

She stared at Miles Warren with wide, expectant eyes.

"With it soaked like this, it’s going to take a while to get repaired. So for the next few days—"

She tugged on Miles Warren’s sleeve, tilting her head back to look up at him, her big, innocent eyes blinking pitifully.

"Dr. Warren, can I please stay at your place?"

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