Chapter 27: I slapped Daniel
Anna stormed back to her room, her heart hammering with a whirlpool of emotions. Fury boiled in her veins, but beneath it simmered something she refused to name—something that stopped her from tearing Daniel apart with her bare hands.
She slammed the door shut, pressing her back against it as though she could block out the world. Her eyes closed, her chest heaving as she tried to calm herself. But then—like a cruel reminder—his lips returned to her memory.
That kiss.
Her eyes flew open, blazing.
"Ah... how dare you kiss me, Daniel!" she screamed into the empty room, her hands flying up to her mouth as if she could scrub the memory away. She rubbed furiously at her lips, wiping again and again, as though trying to erase the stain of his touch.
There had been a time—foolish, naïve, hopeless—when she had cherished that single kiss they once shared. She had replayed it in her head, treasured it like a fragile gem. But now? Now it was poison.
"I’ll forget it," she muttered breathlessly, pacing the room. "We never kissed. Nothing happened."
Desperate to distract herself, Anna suddenly dropped to the floor and started doing random stretches, then jumped in place like a child playing in the yard.
She had read somewhere that exercise helped relieve stress. Her mother used to nag her endlessly about working out, about shedding weight, about discipline. Back then, she had ignored it all.
But now? Now she was panting and sweating within minutes, her body already trembling from exertion.
Still... her chest felt lighter. Her mind clearer.
"Ha... this helped." She gave a self-satisfied grin, dragging her exhausted limbs toward the bathroom.
Peeling off her clothes, Anna stepped beneath the shower. The icy water cascaded down her body, jolting her senses. She let it wash away her frustration, tilting her head back with closed eyes, her lips parting as she sighed.
But then—another memory crashed into her. Not of his kiss, but of her own hand.
Her palm stung faintly as if remembering the contact.
Her eyes snapped open, widening in horror.
"I... I slapped Daniel."
Her hand flew to her mouth, covering it as though she had confessed a sin. The color drained from her face. She stood frozen under the spray, wide-eyed and pale, staring at nothing—like a woman who had just seen a ghost.
Anna slumped onto the cold tiles, her knees drawn to her chest, hands gripping her damp hair as the shower continued to pour over her trembling body.
Her mind reeled in frantic circles.
’What do I do now? Will he threaten me? Hurt my parents? Hurt me? Throw me out of the house?’
Countless fears swirled inside her chest, choking her breath. She had never struck anyone in her life—not even a cockroach. And yet Daniel Clafford, the man who terrified half the city, had been hit by her not once but twice.
Her palms still tingled from the sting of the slap.
Her lips quivered as she lowered her head, a helpless whimper breaking past her throat. Right now, she felt less like a fighter and more like a cornered puppy, desperate to curl into the shadows and vanish.
God, what have I done...
And yet, while Anna sat under the shower punishing herself with endless "what ifs," the man she feared was locked in a very different battle.
In his room, Daniel stepped out of his own shower, droplets sliding down his toned chest as he roughly toweled his hair. His jaw was tense, his eyes shadowed.
He had dressed quickly, slipping back into the armor of his perfectly pressed shirt and sharp trousers, but no amount of fabric could cover the memory of what had just happened.
Not the slap.
But the kiss.
His throat tightened as the image replayed—her lips beneath his, the faint tremble of her breath, the taste of defiance and vulnerability mixed into one. He had kissed her like a man starved, like a beast that had broken free from its chains.
And he hated himself for it.
The echo of her tear-filled eyes cut deeper than the sting of her hand ever could.
With a low grunt, Daniel dropped into the chair by his desk, pressing his palms against his temples. He tried to focus on the documents scattered before him, tried to pull his thoughts back to the safety of numbers, contracts, and deals.
But all he saw was her.
Anna’s anger. Her trembling lips. The shock that mirrored his own after the kiss.
He cursed under his breath, leaning back in frustration.
What the hell are you doing, Daniel? Losing control... over her?
For a man who prided himself on discipline, this was unbearable.
Daniel was still wrestling with his thoughts when a knock sounded against the study door.
Composing himself, he straightened in his chair. "Come in."
The door opened to reveal Kira, balancing a tray of food in her hands.
"Master, your dinner," she said softly, standing just inside the threshold. But her eyes didn’t match her deferential tone—they lingered on him too long, too bold, as though studying every shift in his expression.
Daniel glanced at the tray but felt no appetite. His mind was elsewhere. Still, one question surfaced instinctively.
"Has Anna eaten her dinner?"
The tray rattled faintly as Kira’s fingers tightened around its handles. For a second, something sharp flashed in her gaze, but she quickly lowered her lashes and gave a small, awkward shake of her head.
"No, Master. She... hasn’t."
Daniel’s brows drew together. She skipped a meal? That wasn’t like her—at least not the Anna he was starting to observe more closely. His mind drifted to Shawn, and an unwelcome darkness stirred in his chest.
With a curt wave of his hand, he dismissed the tray. "Take it back. I’m not hungry."
Kira gaped, caught off guard by his rejection. She had thought offering the meal might endear her to him. Instead, she stood frozen, staring at his impassive profile as he returned his attention to the files on his desk.
Her jaw tightened. He won’t eat because that woman didn’t? The realization burned like acid.
Gathering courage, she wet her lips. "Master, forgive me if I overstep, but... Madam..." Her voice faltered when Daniel’s head lifted, his expression carved from stone. For a moment, her heart fluttered at the sheer weight of his stare.
Still, she pressed on. "Madam went out today. I—I heard she was at a film set. A shoot."
It was a carefully twisted half-truth, plucked from the conversation she had secretly overheard between Anna and Mariam. To Kira, it was the perfect chance to sow discord, to prove Anna unworthy of him.
Silence fell heavy. Daniel’s gaze sharpened, unreadable. Kira waited, breath hitching, desperate to see him lash out in anger at Anna, to confirm she had struck the right chord.
But instead—
"Leave."
The single word cracked like a whip, deep and resolute.
Kira blinked, stunned. "...Huh?"
Daniel’s eyes darkened, a flicker of cold fury sparking behind them as his voice cut sharper. "I said, leave."
The finality in his tone knocked the breath from her lungs. Startled, Kira scrambled back, nearly fumbling the tray as she hurried out of the room.
The door clicked shut, and silence reclaimed the study.
Daniel leaned back in his chair, his jaw tight. Kira’s words churned inside his head, but not in the way she had hoped. His anger wasn’t for Anna—it was for himself, for how deeply she occupied his every thought, even in her absence.
Unable to contain the storm in his head, Daniel shoved the files aside with a sharp thud and rose from his chair. His strides carried him straight to the mini-bar tucked in the corner of the room.
He uncorked a bottle of whiskey and poured generously, the amber liquid sloshing against the glass as if mirroring the unrest inside him.
Tilting the glass, he downed the first sip in silence. The burn in his throat did little to ground him. If anything, it only reminded him of the fire already coursing through his veins.
Anna.
Her laughter. Her defiance. The way she looked at him with those stubborn eyes that refused to bow.
He dragged in a harsh breath and refilled his glass, staring into the liquid as if it could give him answers.
She wasn’t supposed to matter. She was a replacement, a pawn in a game he had been forced into. And yet—her presence had seeped into every corner of his mind. Her voice lingered in his ears, her lips haunted him, and even in her absence, she was everywhere.
The more he tried to push her out, the deeper she rooted herself within him.
With a bitter chuckle, Daniel raised the glass again. ’The woman I’m trying to forget is the very one consuming me whole. And I don’t like it’
His claim reverberated inside his skull, louder than the silence that followed.
And yet there she was. Standing before him, refusing to bow, refusing to flee. Daring to hold her ground against him.
Daniel had no idea how much he had poured down his throat—only that the burn in his chest was nothing compared to the chaos in his head. By the time the bottle was empty, his legs moved on their own. Not toward his bed. Not toward rest.
But to a place he never expected to find himself.