She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother

Chapter 379: Mrs. Sterling(1)

Heena watched Tisha walk up the garden path, each step measured and unhurried. The walk of a woman who had nowhere left to rush to because the evening had already given her everything she wanted.

At the door, Tisha paused. Her hand rested on the handle. Then she turned her head and looked back at the car.

Their eyes met through the windshield.

Tisha smiled. Not the wrecked, breathless grin from the back seat. Something simpler. Warmer. The smile of a friend leaving another friend in good hands.

She mouthed a single word: ’Enjoy.’

Then she winked, turned the handle, and disappeared inside.

’This woman,’ Heena thought, her jaw tightening. ’This absolutely shameless, impossible woman.’

The front door clicked shut. The garden lamp cast its warm glow over the empty path. And Heena was alone in a car that still smelled like everything that had happened in it.

She sat there. Hands in her lap. Staring at the closed door as if Tisha might reappear and save her from whatever came next.

Tisha did not reappear.

She was a woman alone in a car with him... A predator.

Her eyes drifted to the rearview mirror... the same treacherous reflex that had haunted her all night... only to find him already there, his gaze locked onto hers.

Heena looked away so fast her neck ached.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her fingers fumbled for the ignition — ’start the car, start the car, just drive, take him home, drop him off, this night is over, just —’

A click.

The back door opened.

She froze. Her hand hovering over the ignition, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her mouth.

She heard him step out. The soft crunch of gravel beneath his shoes. The door closing behind him. Then footsteps... steady, unhurried... moving along the side of the car.

Coming toward her.

’Oh no. No, no, no. Why is he... where is he...’

Her mind scrambled. She looked down at herself and the panic hit fresh.

Her legs were trembling... a fine, visible tremor running through her thighs that she couldn’t will away no matter how hard she pressed them together.

Her skirt had ridden up during the drive, the fabric bunched and creased in ways that told a story she didn’t want anyone reading.

And the seat beneath her was damp.

The evidence of everything she’d felt, everything she’d watched, everything she’d failed to stop her body from responding to, soaked into the leather like a confession she couldn’t take back.

’He’s going to see it. He’s going to sit down and feel it and know exactly what I... ’

’Calm down, Heena.’ She forced the command through the static in her brain. ’He is just a student. You are a professor. Act like one.’

She grabbed the hem of her skirt, tugging it down, pressed her knees together. Tried to angle her body toward the door, away from the passenger seat, as if a few inches of distance could erase what the leather already knew.

The passenger door opened.

Cool night air flooded in. And with it, the clean, warm scent she’d been breathing through the mirror all evening... now close, real, unfiltered by glass or distance.

Alex lowered himself into the seat beside her. Closed the door.

The cabin shrank to half its size.

He was right there. Not behind her. Not a reflection.

Right there... close enough that she could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the steady rise of his chest, the way his hands rested on his thighs with the easy stillness of a man who had never once in his life fidgeted.

Heena stared straight ahead. At the ivy. At the garden lamp. At absolutely anything that wasn’t the man sitting eighteen inches to her left.

Her heart was beating so hard she was certain he could hear it.

***

Alex settled into the passenger seat the way he settled into everything... without apology, without rush, as if the space had been waiting for him.

He didn’t look at the road. He looked at her.

He could feel the tremor running through her. The rigid spine. The locked jaw. The way her fingers gripped the steering wheel even though the car wasn’t moving.

The way she angled her body toward the door as if eighteen inches of distance could undo what the last hour had done to her.

He understood her immediately. She wasn’t the type to reach.

She wasn’t Tisha... bold, demanding, a woman who took what she wanted and dared the world to judge her. Heena was the other kind. The kind who burned in silence and waited to be found.

He had no intention of letting her drive home unfound.

”Let’s go, Mrs. Sterling,” he said, his voice light, almost casual. He leaned back in the seat and smiled. ”Mr. Sterling must be waiting for you.”

The name landed exactly where he aimed it.

Heena’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. Her jaw tightened.

A flash of something raw crossed her face. Something colder. Something that had calcified over fifteen years of empty beds and forehead kisses and cologne that was never meant for her.

She didn’t start the car.

The silence stretched. Then, without turning her head, her voice came out... quiet, controlled, aimed at the windshield.

”How long?”

Alex looked at her profile. The rigid line of her neck. The way she swallowed before asking.

”How long what?” he asked, though he knew exactly what she meant.

Heena’s fingers loosened on the wheel. Tightened again. She was working up to something, and the effort was visible... like watching a woman climb a wall she’d built herself.

”Your... Your things. With Tisha. How long has it been?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned in his seat... slowly, deliberately... and let his gaze travel over her. Not hiding it. Not rushing it.

He studied the curve of her neck, the tension in her shoulders, the way her chest rose and fell with breaths that were too shallow and too fast for a woman who claimed to be composed.

Heena felt his eyes on her like a physical weight. The heat crept up her neck, flooding her cheeks, and she gripped the wheel harder as if it were the only thing keeping her anchored to the version of herself she was trying to protect.

”What do you mean, Mrs. Sterling?” He asked, his voice carrying a teasing warmth that made the formal address sound like a pet name. ”Why are you acting like a teenage girl?”

Her head snapped toward him. Eyes wide. Mouth open. The flush on her face deepening from embarrassment into something closer to outrage.

”You’re a married woman, Mrs. Sterling,” he continued, his tone still light, still easy, as if they were discussing the weather. ”Asking a student about his personal life in a parked car at ten o’clock at night. What would the faculty think?”

The words were playful. The eyes were not. Behind the smile, behind the teasing, his gaze held hers with that same steady, knowing calm... the look that said he saw exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t asking about Tisha. She was asking how available he was. And they both knew it.

Heena broke eye contact first. Her face was burning so fiercely she could feel her pulse in her ears.

”I meant your relationship with Tisha,” she said, her voice dropping into a sharp, clipped register... the Professor Sterling voice.

”You mean,” Alex said, his voice dropping into something low and unhurried, ”how long I’ve been fucking Tisha. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Sterling?”

The word detonated in the cabin like a grenade.

Heena’s composure... the thin, cracked, barely-holding-together mask she’d been clutching all night shattered.

”How dare you,” she hissed, turning on him with a fury that was ninety percent performance and ten percent genuine shock. Her eyes were blazing, her chest heaving, the professor’s voice finally finding its full, cutting authority.

”She is a professor. Your professor. A woman who has given years of her life to this institution, and you... you sit there and speak about her like she’s some... some...”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. The word she needed was the word he’d just used, and she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

”This is wrong,” she pressed, her voice shaking. ”This is a violation of every professional boundary that exists. You are a student. She is your academic superior. This kind of relationship is...”

”Taboo?” Alex offered, tilting his head.

”Yes,” Heena snapped. ”Taboo. Unacceptable. Forbidden.”

Alex looked at her. The smirk didn’t waver. He let her words hang in the air... let them float there, righteous and furious and completely hollow... before he spoke.

”Are you jealous, Mrs. Sterling?”

Three words. Delivered without heat, without malice, without even the courtesy of taking her outrage seriously. Just a simple, quiet question asked by a man who already knew the answer.

Heena’s mouth opened and closed but nothing came out.