Clara's heart hammered at the sudden noise. She spun around with a sharp gasp, instinctively wrapping her arms around herself as she crouched behind the bed, her cheeks flaming scarlet.
Anthony had only meant to change into something more comfortable—playing mahjong in a stiff dress shirt and suit was downright unbearable. But the moment he reached the top of the stairs, the commotion from Clara's room stopped him cold.
"Clara? What's wrong?" he called out, footsteps growing nearer.
At the sound of his voice, panic surged through her. Without thinking, she lunged for the door and slammed it shut, pressing her back against the wood. There was no way she could let him see her like this—half-dressed, with James standing right there.
James watched her, his jaw tightening and eyes darkening
