No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 315

Eleanor searched for her car keys in the dimly lit parking lot beneath the overpass. A white Porsche Cayenne flashed its hazard lights in greeting.

Mansfield Ellington circled around to the passenger side, ducked into the seat, and tried to find a comfortable position for his long legs. He fiddled with the seat adjustment one more time.

As soon as he climbed in, a faint, clean fragrance met him, and for a moment, his heart fluttered unexpectedly.

“What’s your address?” Eleanor started the engine, and warm air began to drift from the vents.

“Moonlight Boulevard, Whisperwind Commons,” Mansfield replied, fastening his seatbelt.

Eleanor paused in surprise. “That’s close to where I live. You’re staying there?”

“Just drop me off there. I’m headed to a teammate’s place,” Mansfield said easily.

She nodded and pulled out of the lot.

City lights sparkled against the night sky. Eleanor’s slender fingers curled around the steering wheel, her posture neat and focused. To Mansfield, there was something endearing about the way she drove—so cute, so elegant.

He risked a sidelong glance at her just as Eleanor checked the rearview mirror in his direction. His heart skipped, then thudded twice, and he found himself smiling despite himself.

Eleanor kept her eyes on the road, but her voice was gentle. “How’s your grandmother doing?”

“Much better. She keeps saying she wants to thank you in person.” Mansfield’s gaze softened. “Her heart isn’t strong. If you hadn’t stepped in that day, things could’ve turned out badly.”

“No need to thank me. I just did what anyone should do,” Eleanor replied, watching the traffic lights ahead, her fingers drumming quietly on the wheel.

Mansfield chuckled. “Miss Sutton, you really are a kind soul.”

Eleanor’s smile was wry. “Being too kind isn’t always a blessing.”

Mansfield straightened, suddenly serious. “Has someone been giving you trouble?”

She blinked, then shook her head. “No, not at all. Honestly, I’ve only met good people lately.”

Even if she had been hurt before, Eleanor thought, it was because she’d been too naïve, too trusting. She’d learned her lesson—next time, she’d keep her distance.

“If anyone ever bothers you, let me know. I’ll stand up for you,” Mansfield said, his voice low and steady.

She glanced over, grinning. “Thank you.”

Mansfield fell silent after that, not wanting to distract her. Still, every so often, he snuck a look at Eleanor’s profile.

She’d done her makeup lightly tonight, her brows and eyes perfectly shaped, nose straight and elegant. He noticed her fair, graceful hands, nails trimmed neat and clean. He found himself staring, almost dazed.

“Is it a right turn up ahead?” Eleanor’s voice cut through his reverie.

He snapped back to the present, ears turning warm. “Oh! Yes, turn right.”

She flicked on the blinker, her slim wrist guiding the wheel as the car glided smoothly into the next street.

With her daughter away for the night, the house felt unusually quiet. After a shower, she curled up in bed with a book. Just then, her phone chimed with a video call.

She checked the screen—it was Ian. Eleanor guessed who really wanted to talk. Sure enough, when she answered, a chubby-cheeked little face filled the screen.

“Mommy!” Evelyn called out sweetly.

“Evelyn, why are you still up?”

“Guess where I am!” Evelyn flipped the camera around.

Eleanor already knew. Ian must’ve brought her back to the house where they’d once lived together.

“Where’s Daddy?” Eleanor asked, a hint of worry in her voice. Surely he wouldn’t leave their daughter alone in a room.

“Do you miss Daddy? Come on, I’ll show you—he’s working.” Evelyn giggled and spun the camera, bouncing down the hall to the study.

The screen wobbled, then steadied, revealing a bright, spacious office. Ian appeared in the frame, seated on the sofa, completely absorbed in his paperwork.

“Daddy works so hard,” Evelyn whispered, turning the camera back to herself.

Eleanor started to say something.

“Evelyn? What are you up to?” Ian’s warm, deep voice came from off-screen. “Didn’t I tell you it’s bedtime?”