Novel Full Chapter 380: Mrs. Sterling(2)
Chapter 380: Mrs. Sterling(2)
Tisha’s bungalow was an architectural masterpiece of sprawling glass and elegant, dark stone, tucked behind a screen of disciplined ivy.
In the soft glow of the early night lights, it stood with a silent, expensive grace that felt like a private sanctuary.
Howard Sterling watched from half a block back, his headlights killed, his own car idling in the deep shadow of a delivery van.
His gaze was locked on the silver car parked at the entrance of the apartment, his grip on the steering wheel vibrating with a raw, nervous energy.
He watched Tisha step out of the back seat.
Alone.
She smoothed her skirt, adjusted her hair, and walked up the garden path without so much as a backward glance at the car.
No lingering goodbye, no embrace, no whispered conversation through the window.
She simply walked to the door, let herself in, and disappeared.
Sterling exhaled… a long, slow release of air he hadn’t realised he’d been holding since Garrison Avenue.
’That’s it. That’s all it was.’
He laughed. The relief was so sudden, so complete, that it bordered on euphoria.
’She didn’t invite them inside. Didn’t even turn around. Just stepped out and shut the door in his face like he was a cab driver who’d served his purpose.’
A slow, triumphant smirk crept across Sterling’s face.
It made perfect sense now. The whole evening rearranged itself in his mind, the pieces falling into a pattern that didn’t threaten him.
Tisha hadn’t been with the boy, she’d been using him.
’Clever girl,’ he thought, the admiration genuine beneath the condescension. ’You’d rather ride with a boy and a married woman than spend ten minutes alone in my car. That’s not rejection. That’s fear. And fear means I’m closer than you think.’
He chuckled softly, shaking his head.
’How could I have been so stupid? Thinking she was actually interested in that kid.’
’A woman like Tisha Wells, brilliant, sophisticated, the sharpest mind, dating a student?’
’Please.’
The idea was absurd. He could see that now. The jealousy had clouded his judgment, turned shadows into monsters.
The boy was nothing but a driver Tisha had borrowed for the evening because it was less complicated than saying yes to Howard Sterling.
He watched the silent townhouse, his eyes narrowing with a predatory hunger.
’Don’t worry, Tisha. I’ll take it step by step. Let’s see how long you can hold up that frost. You’ll be under me eventually, screaming for the very mercy you’re denying me now.’
As for Heena, still in the car with the boy? he barely spared a thought.
He was certain of his wife’s personality… certain of the beige, predictable woman he had spent fifteen years training. She wouldn’t dare breathe out of turn, let alone cheat.
To Howard, Heena was a piece of furniture; Tisha had simply dragged her along as an extra layer of protection, a witness to ensure Howard didn’t cause a scene.
He was so lost in his own triumph that he almost forgot he wasn’t alone.
He glanced toward the passenger seat.
Siobhan was sitting there, her profile sharp and frozen against the window. She had been observing the entire chase with a cold, detached silence that suddenly grated on his nerves.
”What? Are you jealous?” Howard asked, his smirk broadening into something cruel.
Siobhan didn’t answer. She didn’t even blink. She simply turned her head away, staring out at her own reflection in the dark glass.
Howard laughed, the sound booming in the small space.
He reached out, his fingers catching her chin and forcing her face toward him. He wanted to see the resentment in her eyes; he thrived on it.
”You don’t need to worry about her,” he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, manipulative baritone he used to close grant deals. He looked into her eyes, his grip firm.
“I just want to teach Tisha a lesson,” Sterling murmured, his voice a low, calculated purr. “I want her to understand exactly where she stands.”
He leaned in closer, his thumb tracing the line of Siobhan’s jaw with a possessive, rhythmic pressure. “You are the only woman I want, Siobhan. The only woman I actually enjoy.”
He watched her, waiting for the flicker of submission he craved. “Now… let’s go. I’ve already made the most exquisite preparations for our night. Don’t let it go to waste.”
Siobhan held his gaze, her expression a frozen mask of indifference. Something shifted behind her eyes… not belief, but a cold, clinical decision to accept the lie. To Siobhan, the truth of his desperation was pathetic; the lie was simply more functional.
She didn’t smile, but she didn’t pull away. She remained a beautiful, silent statue in the passenger seat.
Sterling released her chin, satisfied by her silence. He fired the engine, the vibration of the car matching the restless energy in his chest.
He threw a final, lingering look at the rearview mirror… the silver car was still there, a ghost in the dark. Through the rear glass, the two silhouettes remained motionless, caught in a private, suffocating bubble of their own.
He shifted the car into gear, decided to peel away before Heena could spot him.
He pulled out into the street, a man convinced he had won, completely unaware that behind him, in the silver car, the furniture was currently catching fire.
***
“Are you jealous, Mrs. Sterling?”
The question hung in the air like smoke.
“What?” Heena’s spine snapped straight, her voice pitching higher than she intended. “Why would I be jealous? That’s… that’s completely …”
She sounded like a student caught cheating on an exam. She could hear it. And from the look on his face, so could he.
Alex laughed… low, unhurried, the sound of a man who had just watched someone walk into a trap they’d set for themselves.
“Look at you,” he said, his eyes crinkling with a dark amusement. “Acting exactly like someone who just got caught.”
“I have not been caught doing any —”
His hand moved. Slow. Deliberate.
His fingers found a loose strand of hair clinging to the damp skin of her neck and tucked it behind her ear.
The touch was nothing… barely a graze, a gesture so small it could have been accidental if his eyes hadn’t been locked onto hers with a precision that made accident impossible.
Then he leaned in. Close. His mouth finding the space beside her ear, his breath warm and steady against the pulse that was currently trying to escape through her throat.
“Aren’t you just jealous of Tisha,” he murmured, “that she got all the attention tonight? While you were just sitting there… watching.”
Heena’s fingers curled into fists in her lap.
”Weren’t you imagining yourself in her place, Mrs. Sterling? All this time. Thinking about how it would feel if it were your skin under my hands instead of hers. How bad of you.”
”Don-n’t… don’t talk nonsense,” Heena stammered. She tried to summon the ghost of the Professor, tried to find the cutting authority that usually commanded a room. “There is nothing like that. You’re being… delusional.”
The denial was weak. It was the sound of a woman drowning, and they both knew it.
”Still pretending, huh?” Alex pulled back just enough to look at her. The teasing warmth in his eyes shifted into something sharper.
His gaze dropped slowly, from her face to her neck, to her chest, to her lap.
To her legs.
His hand moved down. His fingers found her knee… bare where her skirt had ridden up despite her frantic tugging… and traced a slow, deliberate line along her inner thigh.
The glistening remnant of everything her body had confessed while her mouth denied it.
“Oh God… no…” The words escaped before she could catch them. Her hand flew to his wrist but her grip had no strength in it. Her heart was slamming so hard she could feel it in her teeth.
Alex lifted his hand. His finger glistened in the dim light… slick, unmistakable.
“Then what is this, Mrs. Sterling?”
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. There was no lie large enough to cover what was currently shining on his fingertip.
He held her gaze.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he brought his finger to his lips.
His tongue traced the length of it. Slow. Deliberate. Tasting her the way a man tastes wine he intends to drink all night.
Heena stopped breathing.
“Delicious,” he whispered.
The word landed on her like a match on gasoline. Her face burned. Her thighs clenched. Something deep in her core pulsed so hard she nearly doubled over in the driver’s seat.
She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away from the mouth that had just tasted her without permission and made it sound like a compliment she’d been starving for her entire life.
Before Heena could process the word still hanging in the air, Alex closed the distance.
His hand found the back of her neck… firm, decisive… and his mouth captured hers.
“Mph—!” The sound was swallowed before it could become a protest. Her hands flew to his chest, palms flat, fingers spread… the instinct to push, to resist, to be the professor who didn’t let this happen.
But his lips moved against hers with a slow, commanding patience that dismantled her resistance one second at a time.
Not aggressive. Not rushed. Just certain… the kiss of a man who had decided this was happening and was giving her body time to agree with what it had already chosen hours ago.