Page 61 of The Cruel Heir
Sterling.
I didn’t have to turn around to know he was there. He was always there.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my spine to stay straight, as I slid my laptop into my bag. When I finally turned, he was leaning against the doorframe at the back of the lecture hall, arms crossed, dressed in a black-on-black suit that screamed danger.
The other students gave him a wide berth. Smart.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, walking towards him, keeping my voice low.
His eyes dragged over me, slow, assessing. “Picking up my wife.”
I stiffened. “You don’t need to.”
“I disagree.”
I let out a sharp breath, shoving past him, and walking toward the exit. He fell into step beside me easily, his presence too large, too consuming.
“You’re making a scene.”
His lips twitched. “I haven’t even done anything.”
“Exactly. You don’t belong here.”
His hand slid to my lower back as he guided me outside. "I belong wherever you are."
Before I could respond, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. My breath caught, my steps faltering, as he flipped it open with one hand. Inside, a heavy, antique gold ring sat nestled against black satin, the Kingsley crest engraved into its center, flanked by dark onyx stones, that gleamed under the afternoon light.
My chest tightened. I glanced around quickly, scanning the crowd of students pouring out of the university buildings, and the staff moving in and out of the administrative offices. Anyone could be watching.
"It's yours," he said simply, plucking the ring from the box. "It’s been in my family for generations. And now it belongs to my wife."
I stared at it, at the symbol of power, and legacy, he was trying to wrap around my finger like a shackle. My heart pounded against my ribs as he took my hand, his grip firm, unyielding.
"You’re not wearing your wedding band yet, and that doesn’t sit right with me," he murmured, sliding the ring onto my finger before I could protest. The metal was warm from his skin, the weight of it heavier than it should’ve been. “I figured a non traditional claim for the world to see, to show them you’re mine.” He growled.
I swallowed hard, flexing my fingers. It fit perfectly.
My stomach flipped at the casual possessiveness in his tone. Damn him.
I didn’t want to wear it, but it was better than showing the K on my ass. The ring he’d bought me was so gorgeous. The sapphire was so pretty, I didn’t wear it out to school. I was worried about losing it.
His gaze flicked to my stomach, his jaw tightening. He hated that I was trying to hide.
Before I could pull my hand away, he took the ring and slipped it off my finger, his touch slow, deliberate. For a moment, I thought he might relent, let me give it back, but then I saw it, his knowing smirk.
"Fine," he murmured, pulling something else from his pocket. A thin, delicate gold chain gleamed between his fingers. "Wear it around your neck instead."
I hesitated. "Sterling-"
"It’s still yours, Zara," he cut in smoothly, undoing the clasp and moving behind me. His hands brushed over my collarbone as he draped the chain around my neck, his fingers lingering too long as he fastened it. The ring settled against my skin, a constant reminder of the life I couldn't escape.
"There," he murmured, his lips ghosting over the back of my ear. "Now you don’t have to worry. No one will see unless you want them to."
A chill ran through me. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, knowing damn well that was a lie. He wanted me to feel it, to remember who I belonged to.
Gaslighting at its finest.
The car was waiting by the curb. He opened the door, waiting. I hesitated, eyeing him. “I could’ve just taken a cab.”
