He Wouldn't Claim Me — Another Man Did-Chapter 87 - 79: Ex-fiancée (2)

"In Meritopia’s high society, Jocelyn Quincy has always been this." Annabelle Leighton gave a thumbs-up. "A top-tier player."

Back when the news of Shane Sterling and Jocelyn Quincy’s arranged marriage broke, everyone in their circle joked that the two hellions had finally reined each other in. The social scene was now short two ticking time bombs, and the sons and daughters of other families were finally safe.

But who could have guessed that not long after, the two menaces would uncouple at lightspeed in a less-than-graceful manner and re-enter the dating pool.

Isla Prescott returned to her room and waited for a long time, but Shane Sterling still hadn’t come back.

She had slept all day and couldn’t fall asleep now, so she took a shower and went out to the balcony to listen to the waves and read her e-book.

Shane Sterling didn’t return to the room until the middle of the night.

Isla Prescott was already in bed but wasn’t asleep. She heard Shane Sterling open the door and come in. Just as she was about to get up, she heard him tiptoe to his suitcase, grab his pajamas, and slip into the bathroom.

He must have thought she was asleep.

Isla Prescott decided not to move. The moment he stepped out of the shower and lay down on the bed, she suddenly rolled over to face him.

A bedside lamp was on, and in the dim light, her eyes gleamed. Shane Sterling jumped, startled.

"Oh, you’re not asleep."

He reached over to pull her close, but Isla Prescott stopped him.

"Where were you?"

"Handling something."

"What?"

Shane Sterling laughed. "What’s this? Checking up on me?"

Seeing him dodge the question, the light in Isla Prescott’s eyes faded. She withdrew her hand and rolled over, turning her back to him. "Forget it."

"I haven’t even had a chance to confess. How can you just forget it?" Shane Sterling wrapped his arms around her from behind. He nuzzled the crook of her neck, his hand slipping inside her pajamas to gently knead her skin. "Checking up on me so half-heartedly. I guess you don’t care about me at all."

Isla Prescott pinched him. "You have some nerve, turning this around on me."

"So, do you care about me or not?"

"Tell me where you went first."

"It was my ex-fiancée. She was framed for drug use, so I went to the station to get her out."

He used the term "ex-fiancée" without any hesitation, and the way he said it—with only a hint of teasing and self-mockery—made him seem completely open, as if he had nothing to hide.

"How do you know she was framed?"

"We grew up together, so I know her pretty well. She’s a bit of a player, but she wouldn’t do something that crosses a fundamental line."

Isla Prescott shot back with a jab, "If she’s such a player, why’d she skip over you for other guys? Weren’t you good enough for her?"

Shane Sterling puffed up his chest. "Who says she didn’t make a move on me? I was just saving myself, that’s why she didn’t get what she wanted."

"You were saving yourself back then? Who for?"

Shane Sterling snuggled against her. "For you, of course."

Isla Prescott figured he was just being glib to humor her and continued, "So you didn’t mind that she cheated on you?"

"What was there to mind? We were both just puppets in an arranged business marriage; our hands were tied. If anything, I should thank her for chasing after her true love. It gave me the perfect excuse to get out."

Back then, to get himself out of the arranged marriage, Shane Sterling had fanned the flames and made sure Jocelyn Quincy’s affair became a trending topic. He’d always felt he owed her one, and helping her this time was his way of repaying that debt.

Isla Prescott had assumed Shane Sterling and his ex-fiancée were like fire and water, but their relationship clearly wasn’t what she’d imagined. Still, hearing him say he truly had no romantic feelings for Jocelyn Quincy made her feel a little better.

"Did I pass your little inspection?" Shane Sterling asked in a low voice.

"You passed."

"Then don’t I get a reward?"

"What kind of reward do you want?"

"You decide."

Isla Prescott gave him a feather-light peck on the lips. "There. Let’s go to sleep."

"I don’t think that’s good enough."

"Then what do you want?"

"The same as last night."

"Aren’t you tired? Even an ox has to rest."

"I’m not tired."

"What about me?"

"If the ox isn’t tired, the field it plows is even less so."

Isla Prescott laughed in exasperation.

Shane Sterling pressed against her, rubbing restlessly until he finally ripped off his pajamas and covered her body...

--

On the fourth day of the trip, Shane Sterling returned to Meritopia.

He was a busy man, so Isla Prescott was already content that he had taken three days to be with her.

It was just that after Shane Sterling left, Isla’s withdrawal symptoms were a bit severe.

The days were fine. The group was loud and lively, eating, drinking, and having fun, so time passed quickly. But the nights, for her, became unbearably long.

When Shane Sterling had been there, she’d complained about him wearing her out every night, keeping her from getting a good night’s sleep. But now that he was gone, she was the one who truly couldn’t sleep.

Every night, the silence would creep from the corners of the room to the ceiling, then seep out through the cracks in the window. She felt as if the entire island had been sealed in a glass jar, and she was the only living thing being pickled inside.