Page 37 of The Cruel Heir
I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms. I refused to give him the satisfaction.
Sterling sighed, stepping back with a lazy stretch. "Fine. Be a brat about it. I was just trying to be nice."
I had half a second to register the shift in his tone, before I felt something sharp against the back of my knees. A well-placed foot, just as I took a step forward.
The world tilted.
Books went flying.
I hit the ground hard, my knees scraping against the polished floor. A chorus of laughter erupted around me.
Heat rushed to my face, humiliation sinking its claws deep. I didn't need to look up to know they were watching. His crew. His fan club. The Clear View elite, always circling, always waiting for a show.
I pressed my palms against the cold tile, ready to push myself up, when a polished black dress shoe nudged my textbook further away from me.
Sterling crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees as he grinned. "Oops. Clumsy, aren’t you, little hummingbird?" He sneered the nickname, causing everyone to chuckle harder as they pointed at me.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something, to wipe that smug look off his face.
Instead, I did what I had learned to do. I forced my expression blank, reached for my book without a word, and stood. The laughter slowly died. The crowd lost interest. But Sterling? He watched me with something unreadable in his dark eyes, his smirk slowly fading.
As I turned to walk away, he called after me, voice soft but lethal. "You’ll never outrun me, baby girl. You should stop trying."
I never ran from him.
But I sure as hell spent years trying to forget him.
I ran as fastas my legs would carry me to the shower. I wanted to wash all the horrible memories off of me. Away from Sterling. Away from the awful memories. I prayed he wouldn’t follow me.
I scrubbed until it felt like my skin bled. My heart rate hadn’t slowed down yet. I saw the look in his eyes, and it terrified me. It was just a matter of time before he came for me again.
I was on his playing field, after all.
STERLING
Iwatched Zara flee the dining room, her legs unsteady, as she stumbled up the grand staircase. Her rich brown skin glowed under the chandelier’s dim light, her full hips swaying in that unintentional way that made my blood run hot. Without her reading glasses, her wide, dark eyes were more vulnerable, more expressive. Flashing with fury, and something else she didn’t want to acknowledge. It reminded me of another time. When we were younger, she would hold her head down, and run from me.
She thoughtI didn’t see her.
Zara fucking Johnston.
Always acting like she had somewhere to be, head down, books hugged to her chest, like they could make her invisible. Like she hadn’t spent half her life looking at me like I was the center of her world.
She moved past me in the courtyard, pretending I wasn’t there. Like I didn’t exist. I’d been watching her for years, long before she started shrinking into herself, before she became this. She used to belong here. Used to walk these halls with herchin high, used to look me in the eye when she spoke, like she had every right to. Then her father lost everything, and she changed.
My hand reached out before I could stop it, catching the back of her sweater, jerking her to a halt. Not too hard, not enough to hurt, but to remind her. I was still here. She could pretend all she wanted, but I knew, deep down inside, she still wanted me.
I was seventeen and owned Clear View Academy. People stepped aside when I walked through the hallways, listened when I spoke. I could make or break someone with a few well-placed words, and everyone knew it. Everyone respected it.
Everyone except her. She turned slow, deliberate, like she wasn’t afraid. But she was; I could see it in the way her fingers locked - so tight the skin stretched taut over bone, from the harsh grip she had on her backpack.
"Where are you sneaking off to, little hummingbird?" The nickname I’d coined for her, to keep the boys at bay, rolled off my tongue like honey.
She was barely holding herself together. Her chin tilted in a challenge that made me want to chuckle. She didn’t really want this smoke, the kind that left bruises, not just bruised egos. I saw it in the way her shoulders tensed.
My gaze dropped to her mouth as it sat in a plump line. God, the things I wanted to do with that mouth.
"Now, now. Ignoring me? That hurts, Zara."
