He Wouldn't Claim Me — Another Man Did-Chapter 28 - 26: Removing Makeup

Isla Prescott woke from a groggy sleep to find it was already the next day.

The blackout curtains kept the room shrouded in darkness. With her vision limited, her sense of smell became exceptionally keen. The air, she realized, was filled with Shane Sterling’s clean, fresh scent.

’No way...’

’Did Ivan Fulton’s injection not work? Did I lose control and sleep with Shane Sterling after all?’

Feeling a pang of guilt, Isla Prescott held her breath. She slid her hand across the sheets, her fingers exploring the empty space beside her. She reached far, but there was no one else in the bed.

’Thank goodness!’

’I was just scaring myself.’

Isla Prescott sat up and reached for the bedside lamp. Her hand fumbled and hit the wrong switch. The motorized curtains of the floor-to-ceiling windows began to glide open, flooding the room with natural light and revealing just how vast the bedroom was.

The room was decorated in a monochrome palette of black, white, and gray. Above the headboard hung an oil painting, its silver-gray brushstrokes evoking a frozen tempest.

Aside from a vintage leather chair by the window and a few floor lamps, the room was free of extraneous decor. It was this very simplicity that proclaimed a man’s quiet, unspoken control over his life.

Isla Prescott finally understood why the air was so saturated with Shane Sterling’s presence.

This was his room.

’How did I end up sleeping in Shane Sterling’s room?’

Isla Prescott scrambled out of bed. A pair of soft women’s slippers sat waiting for her. As she slipped her feet into them and glanced down, she realized her clothes had been changed.

She was now wearing a creamy-white, French-inspired nightgown with satin, floral-patterned bishop sleeves. The design was quite modest, but... ’Who changed me?’

That injection from Ivan Fulton last night had hit her harder than hard liquor. Her memory was a complete blank.

As Isla Prescott’s thoughts swirled in confusion, two knocks sounded at the door. KNOCK KNOCK.

She ran over and opened the door.

An elderly woman stood outside. She was slender but full of spirit, her silver hair neatly styled in a bun. She was smiling at Isla Prescott.

It was Mrs. Zane, the long-time housekeeper for the Sterling Family.

Mrs. Zane had originally worked at Arcadia Heights, but when Shane Sterling moved out, she had volunteered to go and look after him. Isla Prescott hadn’t seen her in a very long time.

"Mrs. Zane."

"Miss Isabelle, I heard a sound in the room and guessed you must be awake, so I came to knock and see if you needed anything."

"Mrs. Zane, my clothes..."

Mrs. Zane smiled knowingly. "I helped you change."

Isla Prescott let out a slight sigh of relief. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"Your old clothes were torn, so the Young Master had a fresh set prepared for you. I washed and dried them last night. I’ll go get them now."

"Thank you, Mrs. Zane."

Isla Prescott changed into the clothes Mrs. Zane gave her and went to the bathroom to wash up.

She had gone to that business dinner with Wendy Bell in full makeup. After such an ordeal, she expected her face to be a mess. But when she looked in the mirror, her skin was clean and refreshed, without a single trace of foundation.

’Mrs. Zane is so thoughtful,’ Isla Prescott thought. ’She even removed my makeup for me.’

When she finished getting ready, Shane Sterling was nowhere to be seen.

"Mrs. Zane, where’s Sean?"

"He’s in the gym downstairs, working out."

Isla Prescott went downstairs.

The villa’s gym was in the east wing. As she approached the doorway, she saw Shane Sterling on the pull-up bar. His black T-shirt clung to his back, outlining the superb lines of his muscles. With each upward pull, the veins on his forearms stood out, and sweat trickled down his neck... A silent cloud of pheromones seemed to steam into the air.

Shane Sterling was naturally handsome, but his ability to maintain a physique that was lean in clothes and ripped underneath was a testament to his self-discipline.

"What are you doing, skulking in the doorway?"

Shane Sterling suddenly jumped down from the bar and turned to look at Isla Prescott.

Before Isla Prescott could answer, he grabbed a towel, wiped the sweat from his neck, and twisted the cap off a water bottle. He threw his head back and took two long gulps. As his Adam’s apple bobbed, he radiated a raw, untamed sexual energy.

"Hasn’t the drug worn off yet?" Shane Sterling smirked. "You’re looking at me like you’re ready to pounce."

"I am not. You’re not that attractive to me," Isla Prescott retorted, though she didn’t mean it.

Shane Sterling snorted. "You wouldn’t know a priceless gem if you saw one. I should have Ivan Fulton give you a couple more shots to fix those eyes of yours."

As he spoke, he walked towards her.

The residual heat from his workout still radiated from him, making his presence feel even more intense. In the moment he brushed past her, Isla Prescott subconsciously gulped.

"You go eat breakfast first. I’m going to take a shower," Shane Sterling said.

"Oh."

--

Mrs. Zane didn’t know Isla Prescott’s preferences, so she prepared both Chinese and Western-style breakfasts.

"Miss Isabelle, take a look. If there’s anything else you’d like to eat, you can just tell me."

"This is more than enough, Mrs. Zane." Isla Prescott took a sip of soy milk, then suddenly remembered her makeup. "Mrs. Zane, thank you for all your trouble last night. I appreciate you taking off my makeup for me."

"The Young Master was the one who removed it for you. Your hair got wet in the tub, and he was the one who dried it, too."

Isla Prescott froze.

’Shane Sterling removed my makeup? And dried my hair?’

Mrs. Zane watched her with a smile, as if hoping to catch a hint of surprise or sweetness on her face. But all Isla Prescott felt was a sense of guilt stemming from this ambiguous intimacy.

Sleeping in Shane Sterling’s bedroom had already made her feel she was wronging Annabelle Leighton. Now, her heart felt even heavier. She didn’t know who to blame. Should she blame Shane for being so attentive, crossing boundaries despite having a girlfriend? Or should she blame herself for constantly getting into desperate situations that required his rescue, creating a hotbed for romantic ambiguity between them?

"Why aren’t you eating? Is the breakfast not to your taste?"

Shane Sterling came downstairs from his shower. His hair, still slightly damp, was styled in a textured, side-parted cut that added a hint of boyish charm to his otherwise refined air.

"Did you remove my makeup for me yesterday?" Isla Prescott asked.

"Mmm," Shane Sterling said, looking nonchalant. "All that powder... even a plastering job wouldn’t use that much. It was so caked on your face, I was afraid you’d suffocate."

His sharp tongue was late, but it always showed up.

After his sarcastic remark, Isla Prescott’s guilt surprisingly lessened.

"So you dried my hair, too?"

"You got a better idea? You think I’d let you sleep in my bed with soaking wet hair? Even if I agreed, my bed wouldn’t."

"I could have slept in the guest room."

"Ivan Fulton took the guest room. What, you wanted to bunk with him?"

"No, I didn’t know Ethan was in the guest room," Isla Prescott muttered. "Besides, a villa this huge can’t possibly have only one guest room, can it?"

"I don’t have that many guests. There really is only one."

"Then where did you sleep yesterday?"

"The sofa."

’Fair enough.’

Isla Prescott stopped talking and lowered her head to drink her soy milk.

Shane Sterling glanced at his watch. "Morgan Hayes will be here in ten minutes."

"What’s he coming here for?"

"To take your statement."

"Why take it here?"

"You offended the Aevis Group. They’ve sent people everywhere to hunt you down. My place is the safest."

Isla Prescott’s heart leaped into her throat. "Really?"

Shane Sterling glanced at her. "Scared now?"

Isla Prescott was silent. She had considered the consequences before making her decision; she just hadn’t expected them to be this severe.

’I hope this doesn’t implicate Mom and my sister.’

"I was just scaring you," Shane Sterling said suddenly.

Isla Prescott felt like she’d been on a roller coaster. "You scared me to death! Can you please be serious for once?"

"Fine. I’ll be serious." Shane Sterling pushed his plate away, leaned across the table toward her, and looked into her eyes. "Isla Prescott, does owing me a favor really make you that miserable?"