My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 85

Chapter 85 Masked Intrigues

Chapter 85 Masked Intrigues

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“Why not have you and our charming flutist serve me together?” Fiona replied, tossing the suggestion with a nonchalant flick of her wrist.

Sterling studied her for a moment. “Do you think you can handle me alone, let alone both of us?” his voice dropped, smoky with implication.

The double meaning hit its mark. Heat blossomed across Fiona’s cheeks, impossible to hide even in the lantern glow. Sterling’s phrasing had left no sanctuary for innocence.

Sterling’s gaze sharpened as though remembering some half–forgotten jest. “Tell me, what lessons does your husband usually give you, my lord?” The slight upturn of his mouth made the title sound deliciously ironic.

“I am a man, Sterling. Where would I conjure a husband from?” Fiona answered, forcing a laugh she did not quite feel.

Sterling merely shrugged. “Then perhaps you were a woman in a former life. Husbands come naturally, you see.”

A flicker of unease crossed Fiona’s features. She turned, studying him as though the mask were translucent glass that might yield secrets if stared at hard enough.

Whatever lay behind the fanged porcelain remained unreadable, yet his eyes were calm–too calm–glimmering with a playful knowledge that made her skin tighten.

“You’re right–life is unpredictable,” she said lightly. “So perhaps I did have a husband then. But skill in the bedchamber isn’t guaranteed. For all I know… he might have been incapable.”

Sterling’s eyelids lowered, and a slow arc curved across his lips. Those who knew him recognized that smile as the calm before a blade tasted blood.

In the half–lit barracks of Broadmoor, he had woken more than once from dreams of another lifetime–dreams where she lauded her husband as the finest of men.

And now, here she was, slandering that phantom man merely to toy with him.

“Then tell me, are you capable?” Sterling countered, voice low enough to graze her ear.

“I am the patron here, remember? It’s my place to ask whether you are,” Fiona retorted, giving the words back to him unchanged.

Sterling’s body stilled, the playful lift gone. He simply regarded her, silent and unwavering,

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10:29 Sat, Oct 11

Chapter 85 Masked Intrigues

like a predator deciding whether the chase would end in blood or laughter.

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Inside Pearl Terrace, the air shimmered with incense, laughter, and the rustle of silk. Even dressed as a young gentleman, Fiona’s delicate bone–structure and calm poise turned heads, and Sterling–lean, sharp, and impossible to ignore–only heightened the curiosity that followed them like a tide.

From the musicians‘ loft, a man in white paused mid–melody, bamboo flute hovering near his lips. His gaze locked on Sterling, surprise flickering across his features. Sterling met the stare with a single, indifferent sweep of his eyes.

Color drained from the flutist’s face; he dropped his gaze to the floorboards as though frightened by something he alone could see.

“I’ve lingered long enough,” Fiona said, tipping her borrowed hat lower to hide her face. “I should return before I’m missed.”

Sterling studied her, words measured and cool. “If the chance presents itself,” he murmured, “we can always test whether I am… capable.”

Only after she reached Bamboo Lodge did Fiona decipher his meaning. She had asked–half- teasing, half earnest–whether he could perform in bed, and he had answered that they might experiment to see if he could.

She had assumed men hired by pleasure houses were usually the ones lying beneath; skill hardly mattered. His calm assurance contradicted every rule she understood.

Yet for all his bold talk, Sterling kept the strictest decorum. He had not so much as brushed her fingers, a restraint unusual in that smoky world where embraces and stolen kisses were traded like coin.

After this second encounter, Fiona marked him in her mind. Such composure hinted at a background far more intricate than the mask he wore.

“Miss, please keep your distance from that Sterling,” Pearl implored, eyes wide with protective fire. “He looks at you like he wants to swallow you whole!”

Fiona felt heat climb her cheeks. Perhaps, she decided, it would indeed be wisest to avoid him

next time.

She turned the pale–green porcelain vial between her fingers. Now that the antidote to White Camellia rested safely in her palm, getting it to Soren could not wait.

Memory replayed Sterling’s earlier conversation with Serena. Delivering the cure would close this chapter, and clarity–however painful–was always better than festering doubt.

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10:29 Sat, Oct 11

Chapter 85 Masked Intrigues

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