The look in Weston’s eyes was terrifying, sending a chill deep into Stella’s bones.
With the confined space of the car, she could feel the tension thickening around them, almost suffocating her. She glanced coldly at the man before her, and whatever remaining affection she had for him vanished in an instant.
“I said, can you please stop…” she began, but before she could finish her sentence, Weston’s fingers pressed firmly against her lips.
His body hovered just above hers, almost encasing her entirely. For a split second, he looked as if he might kiss her to silence her, but instead, he chose to simply leave his fingers there, his eyes dark and full of warning.
“Stella Sealey, don’t anger me,” he muttered, his voice dangerously low.
Their gazes locked, and for a fleeting moment, Stella couldn’t help but tremble. She clenched her fists, her instincts fully on guard now.
Weston remained in that position for what felt like an eternity, but eventually, he seemed to lose interest and sat back up straight. “Sit tight,” he ordered coldly.
Having experienced his volatile temperament before, Stella knew it wasn’t worth putting up a fight. She reluctantly resigned herself to the situation, fastening her seatbelt without another word. Weston observed her in the rearview mirror and smirked.
“You’re pretty good at going with the flow,” he commented.
Stella, avoiding his gaze, replied dryly, “What else can I do? I don’t want to be hauled off again.” She stared ahead, her face impassive. “I know very well that I’ll just be doing myself a disservice by fighting a man like Mr. Ford.”
Suddenly, the sharp screech of tires pierced the night air, and Stella’s head snapped forward, hitting the seat in front of her. Thanks to the seatbelt, she wasn’t injured, but the jolt rattled her.
She straightened herself up, eyes narrowing as she met Weston’s cold, dark gaze. The anger simmering inside her was hard to suppress.
“Mr. Ford’s driving skills aren’t very good,” she remarked, trying to mask her fury with a casual comment instead of snapping at him for his reckless braking.
Weston glanced at her, then casually unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “As long as my skills in the bedroom are enough to satisfy you.”
Stella’s eyes widened in shock. “You…” she stammered, completely taken aback by his audacity. “Weston Ford, are you mad? You have a wife and a child. Don’t you find yourself disgusting for saying something like that to me?”
Weston didn’t respond, his attention solely on the road as he accelerated the massive vehicle even faster, the dark SUV gliding effortlessly along the highway. He lit up a cigarette, leaning his arm out the window, his expression calm and indifferent.
“Fly, disgusting… what else have you got to describe me?” he asked, his voice lazy and unaffected.
Stella refused to engage further. She turned her gaze away, lips pressed tight. Her silence spoke louder than words ever could.
As he had predicted, after a few minutes of uncomfortable tension, Stella couldn’t contain her curiosity. “Where exactly are you bringing me to?” she asked, unable to stop herself from wondering.
Weston smirked, his grip on the wheel never wavering. “I thought you refused to speak to me.”
“Weston Ford!” Stella snapped, frustration evident in her voice. “What exactly do you want? Didn’t you order me never to appear before you again? Why in the world are you doing this?”
The silence between them grew thick, and Weston’s expression remained unreadable as he kept driving.
Finally, he broke the silence with one simple question. “Who did you meet today?”
The question hung in the air like a weight, and for a moment, Stella said nothing. Her chest tightened as she tried to suppress her emotions, but when she spoke, her voice was tinged with self-mockery.
“Seems like you already know,” she said bitterly, a sardonic smile curving her lips. “You really care a lot about Ms. Cohen, don’t you?”
She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Then you must know that she was the one who sought me out, right?”
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