Page 28 of Stranger to Love

I shook my head, entirely stunned. “No. I—What are you doing here?”

She ignored the question entirely, her gaze sweeping over me as if conducting a rapid damage assessment. “Come.”

I followed her. Obviously. Her dark Mercedes was parked blatantly across the double yellow lines. She opened the passenger door without a word, and I slid in obediently.

With terrifying calm, she took off her trench coat, hung it on a small hook built into the frame of the car, and slid into the driver’s seat. She was still in her usual heels, tailored trousers, and crisp white shirt, her hair perfectly pinned up. Who the fuck was this woman? Supervillain vibes, for definite.

She pulled away from the curb smoothly. The silence in the car was thick, and I realised she was heading straight for Heeley Street. I couldn’t stop staring at her, my mind reeling. How did she just appear? Was she stalking me?

We pulled up to a red light, and her jaw tensed. “Don’t make me remind you it is rude to stare.”

I didn’t look away. “What were you doing around there tonight? How did you just appear?”

“That’s a strange way to say thank you,” she said, her eyes fixed on the road.

“Dr. Carter,” I said, a hint of annoyance creeping into my voice. Her lips twitched with a barely visible smirk. “What the fuck just happened?”

She slammed on the brakes. The car jerked to a violent halt in the middle of the empty street. I threw my hands out against the dashboard, my heart leaping into my throat.

Before I could even process the sudden stop, she turned fully in her seat, her hand darting out to snatch my chin. She forced my face around, locking her eyes onto mine. Jesus Christ, her gaze was lethal.

“You do not get to speak to me that way. Ever.” Her voice was deep, low, and laced with a terrifying, cold authority. “You can swear all you like with your friends, but you never swear at me. Do I make myself clear?”

I thought I was going to pass out. The grip on my chin tightened fractionally when I didn’t answer immediately.

“Crystal clear,” I choked out.

She held my gaze for one more agonising second before releasing her grip. She turned back to the wheel and resumed driving with a terrifying calm, as if the threat had never happened. My skin was on fire. She scared the absolute shit out of me, and yet, right then, I desperately wanted her to threaten me again. Christ.

When we turned onto Heeley Street, she finally broke the silence. “Which house?”

I hesitated. None of them—because I didn’t actually live there. I gestured vaguely. “Anywhere here is fine.”

She stopped the car in the middle of the street, cocking an eyebrow. “Which house, Alex?”

I sighed. “Seriously, just here is perfect.” I reached for the door handle, only to find it locked. I looked back at her. She was smirking, shrugging as if to say, Tough luck.

I crossed my arms, turning to her with a sweet, dramatic sigh. “Dr. Carter, would you please open my door so I can leave?”

Her smirk deepened. She pulled over to the curb and turned to face me. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I answered, a sudden rush of butterflies flooding my stomach at the slight softening of her tone.

She breathed out slowly through her nose. “I’ll pick you up at 1:30.”

My eyes widened. “No, absolutely not.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice hardened instantly.

I shook my head. “I appreciate the offer, truly, but you really don’t need to. I’ve worked there for years and walk home every night. I’ll be fine, I’m not a child.” I wasn’t about to take a pity handout from a lecturer.

“You were not fine tonight,” she said simply, her words utterly deflating my pride.

I stared at her, my arguments dying in my throat. She was right.

“I know you’re not a child, Alex,” she added softly, her eyes flickering over me.

There went my stomach again—a sharp, electric flutter of heat.