Tempting Him to Lose Control

Chapter 97: Chapter 97: Words Are Useless, There Is Only Action

Eleven o’clock at night.

Claire Kendall had just finished her shower and was drying her dripping hair with a towel.

Her phone vibrated. It was a call from Jonathan Keller, and she answered it immediately.

The other end of the line was noisy. Jonathan Keller was shouting, his voice strained with anxiety.

"Claire Kendall, sorry to bother you so late."

"Can you come to Cheer Bar? Miles Warren is here. He’s been drinking all night, and we can’t get him to leave."

"He had a high fever yesterday and got into a car accident today. If he keeps this up, I’m worried his wound will get infected."

Claire Kendall was silent for a few seconds.

"Dr. Keller, it’s no use if I go. He won’t listen to me."

All he felt for her was disgust, plus the malicious revenge he’d exacted when he came to her house today.

Jonathan Keller’s tone was heavy. "Alright, then."

Claire Kendall’s knuckles turned white as she clutched her phone. Just as he was about to hang up, she said, "Send me the address. I’ll try."

’I shouldn’t get involved. And I definitely shouldn’t go looking for humiliation.’

’But I just can’t bear it.’

After hanging up, she changed her clothes and headed out. Shirley Kendall, still drowsy, poked her head out of her bedroom.

"Claire, where are you going so late?"

"I... I’m going to pick up a friend." She bent down to change her shoes.

"What kind of friend needs to be picked up in the middle of the night? You—"

"Mom, you should get some sleep." Claire Kendall shut the door and left.

「Cheer Bar.」

The lights were a dizzying blur, and the music was so loud it made her eardrums ache.

She found the private room Jonathan Keller had mentioned. The door was ajar.

"I’m asking you, are you guys any good at all? Mr. Warren has been drinking for hours, and you still can’t talk him into leaving?"

"You do it if you’re so good! I bet even God himself couldn’t do a thing right now."

"The one who caused the problem has to be the one to solve it. Why don’t we call that woman over?"

"No, no way! Are you trying to get us all killed? After the way she messed with Mr. Warren, it’d be a mercy if he didn’t tear her apart on sight."

...

Claire Kendall stood at the door. After a moment of hesitation, she pushed it open.

She stood silhouetted by the light in the doorway. The clamor came to an abrupt halt as a dozen or so pairs of eyes snapped toward her.

The room was filled with men and women. Every young master had a hired companion, except for Miles Warren, who was sitting alone on a single sofa in the far corner.

His face was slightly flushed. A few buttons of his shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The gauze wrapped around his arm was stained with red.

He was a completely different person from the noble, ascetic man she had seen in the hospital.

"Well, if it isn’t Ms. Kendall. What ill wind blew you in?"

One of the hired companions said with a look of surprise, her smile mocking.

"Don’t tell me this is the woman who hurt Mr. Warren. I don’t think she’s anything special to look at."

"She’s got some nerve, daring to show her face in front of Mr. Warren. Absolutely shameless."

"She can’t bear to let go of her meal ticket. She probably thinks Mr. Warren will have a change of heart."

Someone snickered. "Don’t tell me she’s here to take Mr. Warren home. Who does she think she is?"

...

Claire Kendall ignored them.

She stood in the doorway, looking at the man on the sofa from across the room.

Miles Warren’s hand, holding a glass, froze in mid-air. His cool, clear eyes were clouded with drunkenness, making his true emotions impossible to read.

"Miles Warren."

Claire Kendall spoke. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it silenced the entire room in an instant.

She beckoned to him, as if calling to a disobedient cat that had run away from home.

"Let’s go home."

Everyone was waiting to see her make a fool of herself.

The man on the sofa finally moved. He set down his glass, walked around the coffee table, and stopped in front of Claire Kendall.

"Miles wouldn’t hit a woman, right?"

"I wouldn’t be so sure. After all, that woman is just awful."

"At the Warren Group anniversary gala... with all that media..."

He stood before her, looking down at her in silence for a moment.

Then, in a low, heavy voice, he grunted, "Yeah."

Utterly obedient.

He raised his hand, the meaning clear: he wanted her to take it.

Claire Kendall took his hand. "Please, continue enjoying yourselves. I’ll be taking him with me now."

Then she led him out of the room.

Everyone: ???

"Am I seeing things?"

"Miles must be wasted! There’s no way he’d leave with that awful woman if he wasn’t!"

"Maybe he was just too embarrassed to hit her in front of us. He’s probably taking her outside to do it."

Inside the room, the revelry continued.

Outside, around the corner in the long hallway, Jonathan Keller wore an all-knowing expression.

’Hit her?’

’That man is so whipped. He’d sooner die than lay a finger on Claire Kendall.’

Half of Miles Warren’s weight was pressing down on her.

Claire Kendall hailed a taxi and struggled to drag him inside.

"Regency Gardens, please," she told the driver.

She sat down, and Miles Warren collapsed onto her lap. His warm breath seared her leg, making her body go rigid.

"Driver, could you turn down the AC, please? He’s drunk."

The words had barely left her lips when the man on her lap started to stir again.

His hand came to rest on her knee, his fingertips lightly, almost imperceptibly, caressing the bare skin beneath her skirt.

It was a very light touch, likely an unconscious movement.

But the spot his fingers were stroking was too sensitive, and Claire Kendall instinctively pressed her legs together.

"Miles Warren, you..."

No response.

’Looks like he’s still drunk. He’s not lucid.’

「Regency Gardens, Apartment 501.」

Claire Kendall entered the code. The door opened with a BEEP. He hadn’t changed the password.

She dragged him to the sofa, then went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, adding some honey to help him sober up.

Miles Warren had already sat up.

He leaned against the sofa and drank the honey water. His eyes seemed to have cleared up considerably.

"What are you doing here?"

Claire Kendall honestly didn’t know how to explain.

But before she could explain, the man unbuttoned his shirt, tossed it carelessly onto the sofa, and revealed a firm chest and the smooth lines of his abs. Further down...

CLICK.

He unbuckled his belt, and his trousers fell to the floor.

Claire Kendall’s breath hitched, and she quickly turned away to avoid the sight.

"Miles Warren, you..."

"This is my home." He had reverted to his cool, aloof demeanor as he turned and walked into the bathroom.

The sound of rushing water came from the master bathroom. Claire Kendall prepared to leave.

She dialed Jonathan Keller’s number to let him know they had arrived safely.

"Good, you’ve arrived. Sorry to trouble you."

Claire Kendall paused. "His wound... I think it’s reopened..."

"He’s a doctor himself. He knows how to handle it better than anyone, unless he doesn’t want to."

Claire Kendall murmured an "mhm" and was about to hang up.

But Jonathan Keller suddenly spoke up. "Claire Kendall." His tone had turned serious.

Claire Kendall’s grip on her phone tightened abruptly.

Jonathan Keller’s voice came through the receiver.

"Actually, you have nothing to be afraid of. He cares about you—loves you—far more than you think."

For the past ten years, he had watched Miles Warren pull himself out, only to fall right back in.

Something struck a chord deep in Claire Kendall’s heart. The color drained from her knuckles, inch by inch.

"Claire Kendall, you can’t be so selfish. He’s taken ninety-nine steps toward you, but you’re still standing in the same spot."

The call ended. Claire Kendall stood at the bedroom door, watching the silhouette in the bathroom, motionless for a long time.

After a moment’s hesitation, she decided to leave after all.

As she turned, her gaze suddenly swept past the head of the bed.

An exquisite box lay there, and inside was a string of something strikingly familiar.

’The blessed prayer beads from Viridell Temple? Didn’t he throw them into the sea?’

Claire Kendall walked over and picked them up. Twenty beads, no more, no less. It was the exact string she had originally prayed for.

She suddenly remembered what Jonathan Keller had said—the day before yesterday, he’d had a high fever, a severe cold.

’So, that night... how long did he search the seashore for these twenty beads?’

Claire Kendall suddenly remembered something. She took out her phone, opened the ride-hailing app, and found her trip history from the day before yesterday.

The license plate number was unfamiliar.

It wasn’t the car that had picked her up at all. No wonder the clothes and shoes were a perfect fit. No wonder the cake he gave her was from her favorite bakery, and without any mango.

’It wasn’t a coincidence at all. How could I have been so stupid?’

Claire Kendall’s fingers, clutching her phone, began to tremble. Her breath caught in her throat.

The sound of water from the bathroom stopped.

Miles Warren walked out wearing only a pair of gray lounge pants. His upper body was bare, and his hair was still dripping, water tracing the lines of his muscles before disappearing into his waistband.

He froze for a second when he saw her in the bedroom.

The next second, his voice rang out, cold and impatient.

"Why are you still here? Are you waiting for me to write you a thank-you letter?"

Claire Kendall didn’t say a word. She walked forward.

Miles Warren frowned.

He watched as she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

It was a light, tentative kiss.

Miles Warren’s body went rigid. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t push her away either.

Claire Kendall pulled back, her eyelashes trembling. "That day, after the anniversary gala, at the beach... I didn’t explain myself clearly."

"I don’t like Jacob Sinclair anymore," she said, enunciating each word. "I stopped liking him a long time ago."

Miles Warren’s fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look up and meet his gaze.

The pad of his thumb brushed over her lips as his own thin lips curved into a cold sneer.

"Does that mouth of yours ever tell the truth?"

"You’ve been lying to me this whole time, and you expect me to keep believing you?"

"Claire Kendall, do you really take me for a fucking idiot?"

He didn’t believe her. And it seemed she had no right to expect him to.

Claire Kendall started to panic.

She bit her lip, then suddenly threw her arms around his lean, powerful waist.

She stood on her toes, kissing his face, his lips, his Adam’s apple... urgent and clumsy.

It was indescribable. She didn’t even know what she truly felt for him. All she knew was that in this moment, her heart was filled with guilt and sorrow, an unbearable ache.

’He’d helped her so much. She couldn’t just walk away without a second thought.’

Claire Kendall grabbed his shoulder.

Her hand slid down to his waist, her fingertips touching his skin.

Miles Warren abruptly seized her wrist. His grip was powerful, and he pushed her away.

His breathing was heavy, his eyes filled with a turbulent emotion.

"Decided words weren’t working, so you thought you’d use your body?"

"Claire Kendall, what makes you think that I, Miles Warren, would want a woman like you who does nothing but lie?"

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