Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 37: Secretly Waiting for Her

Claire Shaw suddenly realized what was happening when she met the man’s gaze.

Just then, a stranger’s voice came from the elevator: "Sorry, the repair technician has arrived, and it will be fixed immediately."

Claire quickly moved far away from Ethan Blackwood, her heart pounding fast like a child who had done something wrong.

The elevator was left with only Ethan Blackwood’s deep response: "Hmm."

If one listened carefully, his breath was slightly more erratic than before, and his breathing was a bit rapid.

When the elevator was manually cranked to the upper floor, the moment it saw light again, Claire’s heartbeat returned to normal.

The management apologized profusely to both of them, and Claire politely accepted it.

In the distance, Mia Hughes approached her, "Claire, I’ve been waiting for you for ages. I heard there was a problem with the elevator. Are you okay?"

"I’m fine."

But with her reddened eyes, she didn’t look fine at all. "You must have been terrified."

It was only then that she noticed Ethan Blackwood, who had just walked out of the elevator. The management staff was standing in front of him, nodding and apologizing.

"President Blackwood, what a coincidence, you’re here as well?"

Ethan Blackwood nodded coldly, "I’m meeting with Sean Jacobs and the others for dinner."

Previously, in the elevator, Claire had clung to the man’s waist, and now she was trying hard to minimize her presence.

"Mia, I’m not feeling very well. Could you please tell my colleagues I won’t be joining them for this meal?"

Mia Hughes led her to the waiting area to sit down, ordering her a cup of lemon water. "Alright, take your time to relax. I’ll handle the communication for you."

"I’ll go ahead." Ethan Blackwood waved a brief greeting to Mia Hughes and turned to leave without glancing at Claire Shaw.

Claire watched his departing figure, feeling as if the person who had held her tightly in the elevator was not him.

Cradling the lemon water, she pondered about the children back at the orphanage, feeling somewhat at a loss.

After finishing the cup of water, Claire stood up and left.

The recent elevator incident was still fresh in her mind, so she chose to take the stairs down via the safety exit.

The dim staircase slowly lit up floor by floor, and Claire, walking in high heels, found it difficult after a few flights.

She simply sat down, removed her high heels, and rubbed her ankles.

"Click!"

The sound of a lighter igniting a cigarette.

In the quiet staircase, it was particularly clear, causing the already nervous Claire to tremble. She quickly looked down.

Standing at the stairway corner was a man, wearing a black shirt with a folded suit jacket over his arm.

His tall body leaned against the wall, one leg slightly bent, a cigarette held between his lips.

He stood at the boundary of light and shadow, the flame from the lighter flickering across his chiseled face, highlighting his languid expression. Ethan Blackwood tilted his head back and exhaled a smoke ring, the white smoke enveloping his stern features.

Through the smoke, the man’s gaze landed on Claire, unabashed and uninhibited, with no trace of concealing the wildness in his eyes.

Such a gaze quickened Claire’s heartbeat.

She paused in rubbing her ankle, asking in surprise, "Why are you here?"

"Waiting for you."

Despite having a stern face, his words carried a hint of ambiguity.

Claire didn’t dare meet his gaze, only feeling that he was incredibly intimidating.

She hadn’t told anyone, yet he somehow guessed she wouldn’t take the elevator again.

But wasn’t he supposed to be at the dinner?

Ethan Blackwood flicked away the cigarette butt, extinguishing it with the tip of his shoe, then started walking towards her with his long legs.

In a public area, Claire instinctively wanted to avoid suspicion with him, so her first reaction was to run.

With her shoes already off, she stood barefoot on the cold stone steps, ready to get up.

The man took a long stride, quickly reaching out to grasp her ankle, closing the distance.

His distinctive cool fragrance, mixed with the dangerous scent of male hormones, surged toward Claire overwhelmingly.

Her slender ankle was firmly held in his palm, unable to move.

She softly cried out, "Mr. Blackwood, don’t..."

Ethan Blackwood’s rough fingertips gently caressed the delicate skin of her ankle, the scorching heat almost consuming and burning her...