Page 98 of Stranger to Love

I sat there, clutching the edge of the barstool, watching her plate up. She moved with a focused efficiency, placing the perfectly seared chicken alongside the fresh salad. The domesticity of it should have felt normal, but after that phone call, everything felt like it had been dialled up to eleven. She set a plate in front of me and then sat down with her own, her eyes meeting mine over the steam of the food.

"Don't forget our deal, Alex," she said, her voice regaining that steady, authoritative edge. "I’m holding up my end. My hair will be up. But I expect you to be on your absolute best behaviour tomorrow night. Carlos is... loud. And crowded. I suspect there will be plenty of opportunities for you to prove exactly how good you can be for me." She took a bite of her dinner, looking entirely unbothered, while my heart was doing fucking backflips.

"I'll be good," I promised, though my voice was a little raspy.

"We'll see," she replied, a tiny, dangerous smirk playing on her lips. "I hope for your sake you are. I’d hate to have to cut our evening short to address a... disciplinary issue."

I had never been so excited and so fucking terrified for a night out in my life. Carlos was a dive—but it was full of local regulars, and exactly the kind of "hot older women" Mia was bragging about. Taking Dr. Carter there with me was like bringing a high-powered laser into a room full of gunpowder. I picked up my fork, but my appetite was a distant second to the adrenaline coursing through me. Tomorrow night wasn't just a drink; it was a test. And as I looked at Carrie, sitting there looking like the most composed, beautiful, and lethal woman I had ever met, I knew that I was going to do whatever it took to pass.

Chapter 23

Alex

I hadn’t worn a skirt in over a year.

But when Dr. Carter pulled me aside in the hallway earlier that day—on a Thursday, when I didn't even have Economics—she whispered a command that left no fucking room for debate. Apparently, she wanted to see my legs while she sipped her whiskey that night. And who the hell was I to argue with that?

So then, I was staring at my reflection in the tiny propped-up mirror in the corner of my sickly pink bedroom. I had gone for a wrap-around skirt with thick tights, because it was December in England, and I was not a total fucking masochist. I had paired it with the lacy top I wore last time, my bralette visible underneath. I knew she liked it. I had put more effort into my hair and makeup than usual, and I had to admit—I looked lethal. Good for me.

I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone, and headed downstairs. I was sitting on the bottom step, lacing up my Docs, when I headed into the living room. My dad’s eyes widened as I walked in, and my mum—who was having one of her bad days—blinked at me before offering a soft, tired smile.

"Well, don't you look good," she said, her voice strained but kind.

"Thanks, Mum," I said, feeling a bit shy as I pulled the hem of the skirt down.

My dad shook his head, grinning. "I hope your new woman is going to look out for you tonight, darl."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure she will." My heart fluttered at the thought. She was going to do more than look out for me; she was basically a fucking high-society predator who’d likely commit murder if anyone even breathed on me wrong.

"Is Mia picking you up?" Mum asked.

"Actually—" I was cut off by a sharp, rhythmic knock at the door.

My stomach dropped. Carrie said she’d pick me up, but I expected a text or a quick honk of a horn—not a full-on appearance at the front door. Shit. I raced to open it and froze. Carrie was standing on the porch with a devastating smirk. She looked like a goddamn vision, standing on this street in clothes that were probably worth more than the yearly income of the entire neighbourhood. Behind her, a sleek, posh car was idling by the path, complete with a professional driver. Fuck me.

Carrie cleared her throat, pulling me out of my gormless staring. "Are you ready, darling?" Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, lingering on my legs with obvious approval. "You look stunning."

I finally found the strength to close my mouth and look at her properly. As promised, her hair was up—an elegant, slightly messy bun with soft strands framing her face. Her makeup was striking, making her eyes look darker and more dangerous, her lips a deep, bruised burgundy. She was wearing a dress that was shorter than her usual professional attire, showing off the lean muscle in her thighs, her legs made to look miles long by her heels. I thought I was having a fucking heart attack.

"It's freezing with the door open, darl," my dad called out as he stepped into the hallway. He spotted Carrie and his eyes went wide before he broke into a grin. "You must be Alex’s new missus."

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Dad.

Carrie shot me a mischievous look before turning a soft, breathtaking smile on my father. She offered her hand as I reluctantly stepped aside to let her in. "Caroline," she said smoothly. "Lovely to meet you."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Phil," Dad said, shaking her hand eagerly. He gave me a look that I absolutely did not like. They’d never met anyone I’d been with before, and the first person I brought home was a woman who looked like she was carved out of marble by the fucking gods themselves.

"Why don't you step in and meet her mum before you go?" Dad suggested.

Carrie chewed on the inside of her cheek, looking at me. "I would love to."

As Dad headed back into the living room to prep my mum, Carrie raised an eyebrow at me. I let out a low groan. "I hate you."

She grinned, her hand drifting down my side as she moved past. Her fingers grazed the skin of my thigh just beneath the hem of my skirt, sending a violent shiver through my entire body. "Hate is a very strong word, darling." She leaned in closer. "Are you sure you hate me?"

I bit my lip and shut the door behind her. "No. Obviously not."

She gestured for me to lead the way. I moved awkwardly through the narrow hallway—a space even Mia hadn't stepped into—and into the living room. My mum had tried to sit up straighter, masking the pain I knew she was in. She smiled as Carrie entered, her eyes widening just like Dad’s did.