There was really no need to explain anything, but Isla Prescott still pushed Silas Lockwood’s hand away and hurried out.
In the hallway, it wasn’t just Shane Sterling. Ivan Fulton, Mason Jacobs, and the others were there too—all of them were Silas Lockwood’s childhood friends.
They were all tall and long-legged, dressed in black suits. Each possessed his own elegant grace and a distinct, noble air.
They were likely worried about Silas Lockwood, so after the funeral ended and the guests had dispersed, they all ca back.
"Isabelle, how’s Silas?" Ivan Fulton asked.
"He’s asleep."
"He must be completely worn out from the past two days. We won’t disturb him, then. We’ll let him rest."
Isla Prescott nodded. "Okay."
They headed toward the mourning hall. Shane Sterling walked in the center of the group and didn’t look at her the entire ti. His expression was impassive, conveying an apathy that suggested he cared about nothing at all.
Isla Prescott felt a leaden weight settle in her heart, and her spirits sank uncontrollably.
She felt even more exhausted.
Not long after Ivan Fulton and the others left, Isla Prescott’s phone vibrated in her coat pocket.
Isla Prescott thought it was a ssage from her mother, Susan Dudley. For the past two days, her mother had been texting her from ti to ti, asking about the situation with the Lockwood Family. With a wedding having turned into a funeral, her mother felt especially sorry for Silas Lockwood.
She took out her phone for a look and saw it wasn’t a ssage from her mother, but one from Shane Sterling.
Shane Sterling: "Co out."
Then, another ssage followed: "Parking lot."
The funeral ho’s side door led to the parking lot. Isla Prescott walked in and scanned the area, but she couldn’t see Shane Sterling’s car. Not until a black Land Rover in front of her flashed its lights.
He’d gotten a new car. Again.
’Rich people change cars more often than she changes clothes.’
Shane Sterling rolled down the window. "Get in."
Isla Prescott walked around the front of the car, pulled open the passenger door, and got in.
Although this was the first ti she had seen Shane Sterling drive this car, the interior lacked that distinctive new-car sll. There was only a clean, calming fragrance, sothing like basil, but also a bit like mint.
"Have you been at the Lockwood Family’s place these past two days?" Shane Sterling asked.
"Mhm."
"Haven’t slept?"
"I napped for a little while in the lounge this morning."
"No wonder the circles under your eyes are as dark as a panda’s."
"Are they?"
Isla Prescott raised her hand to flip down the sun visor mirror, intending to check if the circles under her eyes were as bad as Shane Sterling claid. But just as her fingers touched the visor, Shane Sterling suddenly leaned toward her.
Their bodies overlapped at an angle that looked as if he were about to kiss her. Isla Prescott gripped the car door, so tense that even the strands of her hair seed to prickle.
For so unknown reason, she actually closed her eyes.
Ti seed to stand still for a few seconds.
"Why did you close your eyes?" Shane Sterling’s voice was unnervingly calm. "Did you think I was going to do sothing to you?"
Isla Prescott was mortified. "No... I just... subconsciously... closed them."
"Subconsciously." Shane Sterling chewed on the word.
Isla Prescott, flustered, felt it was even harder to explain now.
"Don’t get the wrong idea. In that mont, I would have closed my eyes even if a pig had suddenly leaned toward ."
"Is that so? You’re really sothing special." Shane Sterling shot her a look. "I’d think that for anyone else, if a pig suddenly leaned toward them, the subconscious reaction would be to pull away."
"I..."
"Aren’t you afraid the pig will bite you?" It sounded like he was talking about a pig, but at the sa ti, it didn’t.
’But surely he wouldn’t compare himself to a pig, right?’
Isla Prescott pressed her lips together. "So, did you call out here to discuss pigs with ?"
"Miss Prescott, you were the one who brought up pigs."
"Then why did you call out here?"
Shane Sterling’s hand touched sothing on the side of the passenger seat. With a CLICK, the seat adjusted backward into a reclining position.
"Get so sleep," he said. "Things inside won’t be wrapping up anyti soon. No point in just suffering through it."
Isla Prescott was caught completely off guard. It turned out he had called her out here simply to let her rest for a while.
When she first saw his ssage, she thought he had called her out to ask about her and Silas Lockwood’s embrace, and then maybe tease her about it. But he hadn’t asked at all.
’Preconceived notions really are like mountains in people’s minds.’
--
Isla Prescott was truly exhausted. She fell asleep almost instantly.
She didn’t know how long she had slept before she was woken up by a call from Silas Lockwood.
Silas Lockwood said things were wrapping up at the funeral ho and they were heading back to the Lockwood family’s ho. Yvette Shaw was looking for her.
"I’ll be right there."
Isla Prescott hung up and rubbed her aching brow, only then rembering she was in Shane Sterling’s car.
Shane Sterling wasn’t in the car. After adjusting her seat, she saw him leaning against the hood, gazing out at the curtain of rain as he smoked.
She pushed the door open and got out. Hearing the sound, Shane Sterling stubbed out his cigarette and turned to look at her.
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