The car door slammed shut with a jolt, causing Stella’s heartbeat to quicken. For a moment, she felt the rush of adrenaline, but soon it began to settle. She remained calm, her eyes fixed ahead, though her thoughts were far from still.
Weston sat next to her, his presence heavy but not intrusive. He ordered the driver to head back to the mansion, and only then did Stella glance outside the window, her gaze distant.
A few moments passed before Weston’s deep voice broke the silence. “What time is it now?”
Stella glanced at her watch. “It’s still early.”
She turned slightly toward him, raising an eyebrow. “If I hadn’t seen you here, were you planning on keeping it a secret from me?”
She found his words somewhat amusing, but there was an underlying tension she couldn’t shake. Weston’s eyes softened when he spoke, a quiet concern creeping in. “What’s there to hide?”
Stella’s voice was light but a little defensive. “I come here with Yvonne to get my mind off things. Why does it matter?”
Weston’s tone grew more serious. “How could it not matter?”
All the anger he had felt earlier seemed to vanish the moment he saw her face, but the undercurrent of frustration remained. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Who is that man?”
“Which man?”
“The one playing the piano with you.”
Stella shrugged, her tone indifferent. “I don’t know him. He’s just a stranger.”
Weston’s eyes lingered on her, and his voice grew skeptical. “A stranger can make you this happy?”
Before she could respond, Weston leaned toward her, his fingers gripping her chin firmly. He tilted her head, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Why don’t you smile at me?”
Stella drew in a sharp breath, then forced a smile that felt stiff and unnatural. “Not like this.”
Weston’s frown deepened, his gaze intense. “Don’t smile half-heartedly at me.”
“I’m not,” she replied, though she didn’t have the energy to entertain his request further.
After a long pause, she sighed. “What about now?” She offered a genuine smile, one that mirrored the brightness she had shown earlier while playing the piano with the stranger.
Weston’s expression darkened as he watched her. He released her chin, his hand falling away. “Don’t smile if you don’t want to.”
The smile vanished instantly, and Stella’s face fell, her mood sinking once more.
By the time they reached the house, it was evening, and the sky had darkened, though the streetlights had yet to flicker to life. Stella felt a strange mix of emotions as they entered the house.
Without warning, Weston moved swiftly, pushing her against the door. His lips crashed onto hers with such intensity that she had no chance to resist. The force of his kiss left her stunned, her body reacting instinctively to the overpowering sensation of him.
His scent—woody and fresh—seemed to envelop her, making it hard to think. She instinctively pushed against his chest, trying to create some space, but his grip on her only tightened as he deepened the kiss.
Stella’s back ached where it rubbed against the door, but she made no sound, holding in the discomfort. The kiss went on for what felt like an eternity, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room as he finally pulled away.
Still dizzy from the intensity of the moment, Stella stood frozen, her pulse still racing. Her skin felt flushed from his proximity.
Weston’s voice was low, dangerous. “I’ll ask you again—who was that person?”
“I’ve already told you.” She frowned, frustration bubbling up inside her. “He’s just a stranger.”
Weston’s eyes darkened with anger, and without warning, he stood up and pulled out his phone. “I don’t ever want to see that man in Fern City again.”
Before Stella could protest, he ended the call, leaving her no opportunity to stop him.
Fury rose within her, and she glared at him, her voice sharp. “You’re sick!”
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