He Wouldn't Claim Me — Another Man Did-Chapter 27 - 25: Spring Tide Surging

Isla Prescott’s entire body was scorching hot.

Her fair skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and her cheeks were an abnormal, vivid red.

Shane Sterling could tell with a single glance that she had ingested something she shouldn’t have.

He scooped her up and strode quickly outside.

Morgan Hayes, unaware of Isla Prescott’s condition, moved to block him. "President Sterling, Miss Prescott needs to stay and give a statement."

Shane Sterling held the feverish woman in his arms even tighter. "In her state? How the hell is she supposed to give a statement?"

With that, he simply carried her away with long strides.

The Crescent Hotel was in upheaval tonight. Several police cars had sealed off the main entrance, and Shane Sterling’s car was parked right behind them.

He carried her through the wail of sirens.

Seeing them emerge, Shane Sterling’s special assistant, Justin Wyatt, got out and opened the rear passenger door for them.

"Call Ivan Fulton. Tell him to get to Pellian Bay immediately," Shane Sterling said to Justin Wyatt.

"Yes, Young Mr. Shaw."

The two of them got in the car.

Isla Prescott felt as if her blood was on fire. Beyond that, it was as if her body was filled with crawling insects, millions of tiny legs squirming at once. The torment, both itchy and unbearable, made her desperate to grab onto something for relief.

But the only thing within her reach was Shane Sterling.

Shane Sterling put an arm around her and told the driver to hurry. His faint scent of tea, mingled with the smell of masculine pheromones, shot into her lungs and accelerated the rise in her body temperature.

Isla Prescott deliberately tried not to look at Shane Sterling’s face, but his bobbing Adam’s apple, his long, slender fingers, the pair of long legs wrapped in his suit trousers—each was a bomb waiting to detonate her desire.

She was going crazy. She wanted nothing more than to pounce on Shane Sterling and get it over with, but her last shred of reason kept reminding her: he has a girlfriend, he has a girlfriend.

"Sean..."

Shane Sterling looked down.

Isla Prescott’s dazed eyes met his. "Let go of me."

"What did you say?"

"Let go of me..."

Isla Prescott struggled out of his grip and slumped weakly against the opposite car door.

She wanted to be farther away from him, farther away from that criminally seductive scent of his.

The cool glass of the window was inexplicably comfortable the moment it touched her cheek.

Isla Prescott craved for this cool comfort to last longer, so she pressed her entire body against the car door.

Seeing her clinging to the door, Shane worried that in her daze she might accidentally open it and tumble out. He grabbed her and hauled her back to his side.

Their bodies were pressed together again.

Isla Prescott didn’t know if it was an illusion, but she felt that his body was also very hot.

"Stay away from me," Isla Prescott panted.

Shane Sterling frowned. "Am I that repulsive?"

Isla Prescott looked at him, confused.

"You’d rather cozy up to the car door than to me?"

His handsome face was just inches away. As Isla Prescott watched his thin lips open and close, all she could think of was kissing them.

She pulled away from him again. "Sean, I can’t control myself right now. I’m afraid I’ll offend you."

"I’m not afraid. What are you afraid of?"

"Are you taking me to the hospital?"

"No."

"Then where are you taking me?"

"My place."

Isla Prescott’s thoughts ran wild, her mind filled with salacious images. "We can’t do this..."

He laughed. "Do what?"

Isla Prescott had always thought that although Shane Sterling looked flamboyant, he was definitely not the type of man to mess around while having a girlfriend. But right now, his smile was so flippant that she couldn’t help but suspect his true intentions for taking her home.

If he really wanted to sleep with her, she definitely wouldn’t have the willpower to refuse. And once they crossed that line, they would hurt Annabelle Leighton.

She didn’t want to hurt Annabelle Leighton.

"Your expressions are so rich you could write a book." Seeing her struggle to restrain herself, Shane Sterling finally took pity on her. "Alright, I’ll stop teasing you. Come home with me. Ivan Fulton is waiting for you."

--

Shane Sterling had a villa at Pellian Bay on Mount Arden, just two kilometers from The Crescent Hotel—closer than any hospital.

By the time they arrived, Ivan Fulton was already there.

Ivan Fulton was the youngest medical director at Meritopia General Hospital and a childhood friend of both Shane Sterling and Silas Lockwood.

"Isn’t this Isla?" Ivan Fulton asked, looking at the passion-ridden Isla Prescott in Shane Sterling’s arms. "How did she end up like this? Your doing?"

"What nonsense are you talking about? Hurry up and help her!"

Ivan Fulton gave Isla Prescott an injection, but the medicine needed time to take effect.

Isla Prescott was on the verge of collapse. She was writhing on the sofa like a snake with a severed tail. To make her a little more comfortable, Shane Sterling carried her into the bathtub.

A stream of water at a constant forty degrees Celsius slowly filled the tub. Isla Prescott sank into it, and her tattered white dress, now soaked, began to turn transparent.

Isla Prescott looked thin, but she was actually perfectly proportioned. Years of dancing had given her a light, graceful posture that was both supple and resilient. Lying in the water now, her skin flushed a faint pink like a lotus blossom glistening with dew, the sight made Shane Sterling’s throat tighten.

"How’s Isla?"

Ivan Fulton walked to the bathroom door, intending to come in and check on Isla Prescott’s condition, but Shane Sterling pushed him back out.

"She’s not thrashing around as much."

"It’ll probably be a little while before it fully subsides."

"Mm."

"Should we tell Silas?"

Shane Sterling’s eyelids twitched. "Why tell him?"

"His sister is in trouble. Shouldn’t we tell him?"

"Isn’t the problem already being solved? He’s getting engaged next week, it’s a busy time for him."

Ivan Fulton thought for a moment. "True. Lydia Sinclair is clinging to Silas so tightly these days that he’s constantly being checked up on even if we just ask him out for tea. It’s better not to add to his troubles."

"You should get some sleep. Don’t leave tonight, just make do with the guest room."

"I want to check on Isla first."

Shane Sterling blocked the door. "No need. I’ll call you if anything happens."

"Alright then, I’m off to bed. I have a surgery tomorrow morning."

Ivan Fulton yawned as he walked toward the guest room.

Shane Sterling loosened his tie and turned back to the bathroom.

Perhaps because of the injection, the restless element in Isla Prescott’s system was suppressed, and she became drowsy. The warm water in the tub enveloped her, giving her an inexplicable sense of security.

When Shane Sterling returned, she had already closed her eyes and fallen asleep.

"Isla Prescott?"

Shane Sterling reached out and touched her. As if she had lost consciousness, she slid straight down into the tub. Shane quickly bent down and scooped her into his arms.

Her body was dripping wet, and the front of his shirt was quickly soaked through as well.

Shane Sterling grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it completely around her upper body. With one arm holding her, he reached into his trouser pocket with the other for his phone.

He first called Ivan Fulton to confirm if Isla Prescott’s current drowsiness was normal. After getting an affirmative reply, he called his assistant, Justin Wyatt.

"Have someone prepare a set of pajamas," Shane Sterling said. Then, glancing at her makeup, which had been smeared by the water, he added, "And send me a makeup removal tutorial."

Justin Wyatt heard him, but he couldn’t quite believe his ears. "Young Mr. Shaw, are you talking about the kind of video that teaches someone how to remove makeup?"

"Yes. There’s nothing wrong with your hearing."

"Right, right, I’ll get on it immediately."