C18 'is Your Body Cold or Hot?'

Hollis was Amadea's boss, and though she couldn't pinpoint any fault in him, her heart ached for Clarissa. What had Clarissa done to incur such harsh treatment from their boss?

Amadea's gaze was fraught with complexity as she watched Clarissa hobble away, leaning on the wall for support, each step uneven. The money and bank card in her hand felt like a burning coal.

She darted back to her office, locking away the card and cash in the safe. Only then did the searing pain in her palm subside.

Returning to room 606, Amadea nearly collided with Hollis as she opened the door. "Director Morgan," she greeted with respect. He acknowledged her with a grunt and continued on his way.

Inside, the capital's young masters were still discussing the earlier incident. "That woman was disgustingly low! I've seen all kinds of gold-diggers, but never one as vile in her greed as her. Tsk."

"Yeah, the way she groveled on the floor, like a dog wagging its tail, it was so despicable it made you want to kick her. To stoop so low for money, she's beyond shameless."

Amadea bit back the urge to defend Clarissa. That wasn't the truth at all! If Clarissa really coveted money, why would she have tossed it all to Amadea so nonchalantly after leaving the room? If she were so greedy, why not cling to the cash instead of leaving it behind without a second glance?

...

Exhausted, Clarissa returned to the dressing room Amadea had shown her earlier. She shed her clown costume and slipped into her own clothes, the sticky sweat on her forehead making her feel utterly uncomfortable. She splashed water on her face in the washroom, trying to wash away the discomfort.

A sudden chill ran through her as she caught sight of a man's reflection in the mirror. Her fists clenched tight without her realizing.

"Director Morgan."

He regarded her with an impassive stare, then sneered after a moment. "Hah, you're becoming more self-aware. It seems that sending the unruly to be disciplined has taught you quite a bit."

His large hand caressed her face, thumb tracing her pale cheek as he spoke with a cold smirk, "Too bad it's too late. Miss Jenkins, had you learned your lesson three years ago, you wouldn't be in this predicament now, would you?"

Clarissa's heart skipped a beat; she knew exactly what he meant. If she had been this compliant three years ago, if she hadn't lashed out at Faelyn, she wouldn't have faced prison. She would still be the esteemed Miss Jenkins of the Jenkins family in Valecross, not the wretched woman she was now.

She understood all too well.

Her voice trembled as she replied, "You're right, Director Morgan." The Clarissa of three years past would have argued, would have cried injustice, but now, three years had taught her silence.

Hollis, seeing her subdued and compliant, felt a rage he couldn't quite explain. His eyes darkened with fury, his usually calm demeanor unsettled by the turmoil within.

His lips twisted into a sinister smile. "Miss Jenkins, you've truly surprised me today. What would your brother think if he saw you now, so pitiful and begging? Would it kill him?"

You can't do this! The words almost escaped Clarissa's lips, but she caught herself, her nails digging into her flesh for restraint.

She averted her gaze, afraid to meet his reflection in the mirror, afraid he might see through her.

"Director Morgan, I have no brother. I'm a murderer, a convict, a laughingstock of a laborer. Why would the Jenkins family acknowledge a killer as their daughter?"

Hollis was taken aback by her words, pausing before breaking into a laugh. "Clarissa, I underestimated you before. You're truly cold-blooded. It's no wonder you could commit such vile acts."

Clarissa remained silent, head bowed, as his icy words pierced her heart and stirred her soul.

Cold-blooded? Wasn't it you who drove me to this, Hollis?

"But I'm curious," he continued, his voice chilling, "beneath that cold-blooded and malicious heart, is your body just as cold? Or perhaps... it's burning with heat?"

As he spoke, Clarissa felt a hot presence press against her back. Her waist tightened in fear, and she glanced down to see Hollis's hand on her stomach.

Her coat's buttons had been undone, his hand slipping beneath her clothes, causing her to shiver once more.

Hollis's brow furrowed in confusion – a sweater underneath a coat in the summer?

With a trace of doubt, he lifted her sweater. "Hollis!" Clarissa's cry of alarm cut through the air, too panicked to think clearly.

Hollis's eyes narrowed into slits as he asked with a chilling tone, "What did you just call me?"

Clarissa's shoulders shook. "Director, Director Morgan." She could feel the hand beneath her sweater gently stroking her belly, her heart pounding as it inched toward the left side of her waist... closer and closer to the scar she never wanted to reveal.

Her heart skipped a beat as the hand moved beyond her waist...

"Director Morgan!" she gasped in alarm.

"What's the matter?" Hollis's voice, perhaps it was her imagination, seemed tinged with desire.

In that instant, Clarissa's mind raced.

"Director Morgan! Pay up!" she demanded. "I'm in the business of selling laughter. Since that's the case, if you want to touch me, you have to pay."

Hearing her assertive words, Hollis was reminded of how this very woman in room 606 had debased herself for money. Suddenly, the arousal that had been stirring within him vanished without a trace.

As he looked down at the woman in his arms, a wave of discomfort washed over him. Without a clear reason, Hollis attributed this odd sensation to a newfound distaste for the woman he held.

Abruptly, Hollis released Clarissa. "Get out," he commanded.

Clarissa scrambled out of the washroom, not daring to linger for a moment longer. She flung open the door to the changing room and departed without a backward glance.

In the solitude of the changing room, Hollis's striking features were etched with a coldness that seemed to repel anyone from coming close, a chill that could pierce the soul.

Clarissa requested leave from Amadea and hurried back to her employee dormitory in the South Bay District.

Eulalia, her roommate, hadn't come back yet. Clarissa stood at the window, staring blankly outside. The window was flung open, allowing the cold wind and drizzle to engulf her.

She murmured to herself, "Tomorrow will be better."