Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 71: A Smile

Owen Crawford learned Sanda, fencing, and Taekwondo.

But these were merely hobbies cultivated by a young master from a wealthy family; in front of Ethan Blackwood, who was all muscles, they seemed like showy but impractical skills.

With just a slight twist, Ethan Blackwood could dismantle Owen’s arm effortlessly—it felt as easy as turning a faucet, and Claire Shaw didn’t even think Ethan exerted any force.

He endured the pain, not daring to voice a single complaint.

Ethan Blackwood released his grip, his face cold as he said, "Get lost!"

Owen Crawford, sweating in pain, dared not make a sound. Holding his limp arm, he slunk away.

Before leaving, he heard Ethan Blackwood ask Claire Shaw, "Ms. Shaw, are you alright?"

Claire Shaw shook her head, "I’m fine. You should take Mason back. If you’re unable to pick him up in the future, please inform the family in advance; if anything happens to the child, I can’t bear that responsibility."

Ian Rhodes shut the car door, glaring at him, "What are you looking at? You must be crazy, angering the Crown Prince from the Blackwood Family for Claire Shaw. Do you have a death wish?"

Owen Crawford withdrew his gaze, realizing he might have overthought it. How could there be anything between Claire Shaw and Ethan Blackwood?

He was in excruciating pain, cold sweat dripping from his forehead, and his heart sank to the bottom—trouble was undeniably looming!

As the car drove away, unwillingly, he glanced back to see Claire Shaw bend down and pick up the painting from the ground.

Her lightweight shirt slid down, revealing a dazzlingly white slim waist, and her jeans perfectly outlined her curves.

It brought to mind the qipao beauty he’d seen in Ethan Blackwood’s yard not long ago. If Claire wore a qipao, she’d surely be just as stunning.

Suddenly, Owen Crawford’s eyes snapped open, filled with a sinister gleam.

Claire Shaw, you’re asking for it; refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit.

He had exhausted all his patience by now.

Under the big tree, Claire Shaw squatted on the ground, gently wiping the frame of her painting with a towel.

This painting was her masterpiece, crafted over hundreds of nights with each stroke.

As she softly wiped it, a smile unknowingly spread across her lips.

The mottled sunlight fell on her fair face, making her look exceptionally gentle and graceful.

Claire Shaw made a call to her senior and asked her to come help move the painting.

Turning around to the two remaining people, she stood up and spoke calmly, "Mr. Blackwood, thank you for today. It’s getting late, you should take the child home to rest."

Ethan Blackwood hesitated, then quietly agreed, "Alright."

He led Mason Blackwood away, and as the car window rolled down, Mason waved to Claire, "Ms. Shaw, goodbye."

"Sweetheart, see you tomorrow." Claire Shaw smiled, revealing several perfectly white teeth.

Standing in the sunset, she seemed to be glowing.

Charlotte Chapman arrived with workers to move the painting back to the studio, apologizing, "I didn’t know Young Master Rhodes was like this."

Claire Shaw smiled indifferently, "It’s okay."

"Don’t worry, a national art exhibition is coming up, and I’ve signed you up for it, Claire. I believe your work will shine brightly."

Claire Shaw patted her shoulder, "Thank you, senior. If there’s more business in the future, feel free to contact me. I’m leaving now."

Having resolved the major issue of Owen Crawford, Claire Shaw left humming a light tune.

She proactively sent Ethan Blackwood a message.

[Thank you for today.]

[Thank me properly when I return from the business trip.]

[When will you be back?] She rarely showed interest in Ethan’s whereabouts, but given their agreement, she was determined to savor the meal she missed last night.

[A few days, return date unknown.]

Claire Shaw put away her phone and drove home. Upon arriving, she kicked off her high heels and walked barefoot on the spotless floor cleaned by Ethan Blackwood.

She put on speakerphone, and Mia Hughes’s voice came through: "Claire, about the camping trip I told you about last week..."

Claire pressed the button on the water dispenser and dropped two ink-colored red roses into the glass.

Watching the pristine water swiftly take on a tint, she grinned slightly, "I’m not going."

"Come on, Claire, are you really going to leave me, a girl, to camp in the deep mountains with a bunch of men?"

Claire propped her chin, elegantly stirring with a spoon to press down the flower that hadn’t been soaked in hot water.

"What else? Want me to suffer with you? I’m not going. It’s cold in the mountains; it’s inconvenient for bathrooms and there are bugs, snakes, and ants."

Normally carefree, Claire detests anything related to exercise.

Why waste time when she could drink a cup of flower tea, eat some vegetable salad, and start drafting designs?

She didn’t earn that seven million for nothing.

Claire Shaw was no longer the assistant following Lara Adler around; she had become an accredited designer in Lara’s eyes.

This was her first mission arriving as a designer, and Claire was determined to prepare thoroughly.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she had prepared piles of drawing paper and design drafts to practice.

Mia Hughes spoke in a hurt tone, "It’s a professional camping site—washing facilities are convenient, really. Please, Claire, accompany me, or I’ll literally cry."

Claire genuinely couldn’t handle Mia’s whiny nature, given Ethan wouldn’t be back soon, she had no choice but to relent.

By Friday, after work, Claire Shaw had organized everything.

Mosquito repellent, insecticide, bandages, and even a complete set of emergency supplies were packed.

When Mia called to say she had arrived, Claire Shaw strapped on a large backpack and carried two big bags downstairs.

The last time she went out was during a school-organized spring outing a decade ago; staying overnight in the mountains might be quite an experience.

Sean Jacobs approached from afar to help carry her things, but despite being tall and strong, when taking Claire’s backpack with one hand, he noticeably struggled.

Claire suddenly recalled the man who could easily lift her.

He hadn’t contacted Claire voluntarily in the past few days, and she didn’t know his whereabouts.

However, this morning, past seven, she saw one of his social media posts.

It was a sunrise.

Curiously, there were no towering buildings nearby, only lush green mountains.

Where did he go?

Claire pondered this as she greeted Mia in the passenger seat before pulling open the rear door.

Inside was a man reclining, dressed in a black jacket and heavy-duty hiking boots.

The man’s face was shielded by a black baseball cap to block the harsh sunlight.

Even with his face completely covered, Claire instantly recognized who he was.

He had returned? Why this attire?

Realizing the man was likely asleep, Claire carefully closed the door.

Her movements were whisper-quiet, yet still stirred the man.

Bathed in diffused golden light, the man who’d effortlessly disarmed Owen Crawford lifted off the hat covering his face.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and upon recognizing Claire, Ethan Blackwood’s lips curled into a playful smile: "Ms. Shaw, we meet again."

His voice was still husky from sleep, sounding extremely sexy.

Clearly, he’d done nothing, just locking eyes with her sent Claire’s heartbeat racing.

When alone, she could reach up, hugging his neck asking for kisses.

In public, Claire was as reserved as a shy quail, her face showing guilty panic.

Awkwardly, she spoke, "What a coincidence! Mr. Blackwood is here too."

Ethan Blackwood’s pupils became more pronounced, akin to an eagle from the heavens locking onto its prey.

He articulately said, "Not a coincidence, I rushed back here deliberately."

Sean Jacobs in the front quickly mentioned Ethan Blackwood’s joining the camping trip for the first time, but Claire Shaw only noticed Ethan’s long fingers sliding across his phone screen.

Soon, she received a text on her phone.

The message clearly read:

[Ms. Shaw, are you clean now?]