He didn’t bother saying anything—just grabbed a shirt and headed for the bathroom.
Clara, always a little clueless about these things, stayed put on the bed, waiting patiently.
When Dylan came out, he went straight to the closet, searching for a pair of pants. Clara didn’t even try to look away. He hesitated, then ducked back into the bathroom to finish getting dressed.
Finally, when they were both ready, Dylan opened the door to leave.
“Where are you going? Are you coming home for dinner tonight?” Clara called after him.
He paused in the doorway, holding back for a few seconds before finally answering, “No. I won’t be back tonight.”
He had meetings lined up with a few business partners, and after that, he’d probably head to the old Ferguson family estate.
“You’re going back to your family? What if your dad tries something again? What if, by the time you come back, whatever little bit of feeling you have for me is just… gone? I just don’t trust him at all, and you don’t even remember anything right now, you—”
Her worries kept tumbling out. After all, Dylan’s father could easily manipulate him in his current state. What if Dylan came back even colder than before? They never really belonged in each other’s worlds. If he shut her out completely, she might never see him again. After what happened, his father would probably do everything he could to get rid of her.
Dylan’s hand tightened on the doorknob. He hesitated, then turned and slipped a signet ring onto her thumb.
“Keep this safe.”
Clara pressed her lips together and looked up at him, searching his face.
He paused, then gently cupped her cheeks and kissed her—soft and fleeting. The warmth of him, the familiar scent, made her heart ache. But he pulled away quickly, holding himself back.
“If that day comes, take this and find me in North America.”
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