Chapter106 Demanding a Kiss
Back at the company, Miranda tossed the documents in her hand onto the desk.
It was the check Harrison had given her, along with the project transfer agreement Dominic had signed.
Looking at these tangible assets now in her possession, she let out a long breath. The nausea she'd felt from seeing Ariana was finally fading, diluted by the satisfaction of holding these gains.
Since family ties were unreliable, she'd grip her leverage tightly.
As long as she had chips to bargain with, even that father of hers would have to think twice.
That evening, there was a knock on her office door.
"Knock knock."
Lisa pushed the door open, tablet in hand, her expression serious. "Miranda, there's a problem with one of our partners in the neighboring city. Someone needs to go there in person to negotiate."
Miranda frowned. "Is the schedule set?"
"The time is confirmed." Lisa looked troubled. "But everyone at the company is tied up with projects. We really can't spare anyone."
Miranda drummed her fingers on the desk a few times before making a quick decision. "Fine, I'll go. Arrange the itinerary for me."
"Okay, I'll get right on it."
...
That evening, at the Prescott manor.
When Miranda returned, Clifton was sitting in the armchair by the bedroom, polishing a black Browning pistol.
His movements were practiced and elegant, the black gun barrel spinning between his pale, slender fingers with a chilling air of danger.
Hearing footsteps, Clifton flicked his wrist, sliding the magazine home with a crisp click.
He looked up, his gaze landing on Miranda. "You're back?"
"Mm." Miranda glanced at the weapon in his hand but didn't press for details. She just set down her bag. "I need to tell you something. I have to go on a business trip to the neighboring city tomorrow. I'll probably be gone for two or three days."
Clifton paused, set the gun on the coffee table, and raised an eyebrow. "The neighboring city?"
"Yes, the company has a partnership to negotiate."
"What a coincidence."
Clifton leaned back. Though his back injury kept him from fully settling against the sofa, his posture remained casual and commanding.
"I happen to have a mission in the neighboring city too."
Miranda blinked, then frowned, her gaze dropping to his back hidden beneath his shirt.
"You're going on a mission? Also leaving tomorrow?"
She walked over, her tone clearly disapproving. "Clifton, did you forget you're still injured? The doctor said you have burns that could tear open with the slightest movement. Going on a mission right now doesn't seem like a good idea."
"Can't someone else take this mission?"
Seeing the undisguised anxiety and concern on her face, Clifton's mood lifted. He curved his lips and reached out to grasp her wrist, pulling her slightly closer with a gentle tug.
"Worried about me?"
Miranda thought about how Clifton had gotten injured saving her, and guilt flooded through her. "Your injury hasn't healed. Get someone else to go."
Clifton chuckled softly, his thumb rubbing against the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist.
"Relax. This mission has a very low difficulty level. There's no danger."
"Really?" Miranda looked skeptical.
"Mm." Clifton's expression was utterly sincere.
Miranda stared at him for several seconds before finally giving in.
When this man made up his mind, no one could talk him out of it.
"Fine." She sighed and got up to fetch the medicine kit. "Since you're going, I'll apply your medicine extra carefully tonight. When you get there, take care of yourself. Don't push yourself during the mission."
She didn't pry further into his work matters.
In the bedroom.
Miranda carefully peeled away the gauze on his back.
Although two days had passed, the skin on his back still looked horrifying.
Every time the cotton swab touched down, Miranda's hand trembled, her heart aching.
All of this was because he'd saved her.
Clifton lay on the bed, feeling the cool ointment on his back and the woman's gentle ministrations. He closed his eyes contentedly.
Late at night.
The bedroom was pitch black, heavy blackout curtains drawn tight, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.
Miranda finished her shower and climbed onto the bed on tiptoe.
She deliberately chose the edge of the bed, lying on her side and keeping her distance from Clifton.
She was afraid her sleeping habits were bad and that her hand might hit his wound in the middle of the night.
In the darkness, the man's deep, husky voice suddenly broke the silence.
"Why are you so far away?"
Miranda jumped, hunching her shoulders and answering in a muffled voice. "I'm afraid I'll touch the injury on your back."
Clifton was currently lying face down on the bed.
To avoid pressure on the wound, he could only maintain this position.
The blanket only covered him from the waist down, his muscular, solid back completely exposed to the air, rising and falling slightly with his breathing.
Even without being able to see, Miranda could imagine those powerful lines.
"Come here."
Clifton frowned, his tone brooking no argument.
"No." Miranda refused decisively. "You have a mission. You need to rest properly. If I accidentally touch the wound on your back in the middle of the night, it won't be good for your recovery."
Silence fell in the darkness for a few seconds.
Then came the man's voice, tinged with a hint of grievance. "I'm cold."
Miranda was speechless.
She suspected she'd heard wrong.
She reached out to lift the blanket covering her and waved her hand in the air a couple times, feeling the room temperature.
"Clifton, the central air conditioning is set to a constant seventy-nine degrees."
Even if it were freezing outside, it couldn't possibly be cold inside.
Plus, with this man's constitution, he'd be lucky not to feel hot.
"My back isn't covered by the blanket. It's chilly." Clifton sounded completely justified.
"Then turn up the temperature..."
Before Miranda could finish speaking.
In the darkness, a pair of strong hands suddenly reached out and wrapped around her waist with unerring accuracy.
"Ah!"
Miranda cried out as everything spun around her.
The next second, she had been pulled over, blanket and all, and crashed solidly into a scorching embrace.
Clifton wasn't pressing down on her but lying on his side, his uninjured arm draped across her stomach, imprisoning her firmly in front of him.
Even through the blanket, Miranda could feel the continuous heat radiating from the man behind her.
"Clifton, what are you doing?"
Miranda was startled but didn't dare move, afraid of touching his back.
"Be careful or your wound will tear open."
"It's fine."
Clifton rested his chin in the hollow of her neck, nuzzling contentedly, his voice lazy and shameless.
"Now I'm not cold anymore."
This shameless rogue!
Miranda was so angry her teeth itched, but she didn't dare push him away. She could only lie there frustrated in his arms.
Though her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she couldn't see his face clearly, she could feel his warm breath spraying against her ear.
"Liar."
Miranda muttered softly under her breath, then in the darkness, facing his direction, she pouted her lips fiercely.
However, she clearly underestimated this man's abilities.
As a SWAT captain who walked the line between life and death year-round, Clifton's night vision was remarkably good.
Even in such dim light, he precisely captured that pout of red lips.
Like she was asking for a kiss.
Clifton's eyes darkened, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Since it was an invitation, wouldn't it be impolite not to respond?
He lowered his head slightly and captured those two soft lips with unerring accuracy.