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Claimed By The Coldhearted Sterling Heir
img img Claimed By The Coldhearted Sterling Heir img Chapter 5 5
5 Chapters
Chapter 7 7 img
Chapter 8 8 img
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 5 5

The VIP suite at Neiman Marcus was larger than the entire trailer she grew up in. Mirrors covered every wall, reflecting Elara's discomfort from a dozen angles.

Liam was sitting on a plush velvet sofa outside the dressing room, typing on his phone while three sales assistants hovered around him with trays of sparkling water.

Inside the small cubicle, Elara held a dress of deep, midnight blue silk. The tag dangled against her wrist: $3,500. It was obscene. It was beautiful.

She shimmied into it. The silk felt like cool water against her skin. It fit perfectly, hugging her hips and waist, flaring out slightly at the floor.

She reached behind her back to pull up the invisible zipper. It was stiff. She strained, arching her back, her fingers fumbling.

Zip.

The mechanism jammed. It wasn't just stuck; the delicate fabric had wedged itself deep into the teeth of the zipper halfway up her spine. Elara cursed silently.

She didn't panic. Panic was for people who had safety nets. She reached for a hanger, trying to use the hook to pry the fabric loose, twisting her body to get a better angle in the mirror. She worked at it for five minutes, sweat prickling her skin, but the silk was unforgiving.

"Miss Vance?" Liam's voice came from outside. "Mr. Sterling is on his way up. Are you almost done?"

"I... just a minute!" Elara called out, her voice tight with frustration.

Footsteps echoed on the marble floor outside. Heavy, confident strides.

"Liam," Julian's voice was sharp. "Why are we still here? Arthur eats at seven sharp."

"She's in the final outfit, sir. Taking a bit of time."

Elara heard a knuckle rap against the door. "Vance. Open the door."

"I can't!" Elara replied, still wrestling with the zipper. "I'm not decent."

"We are on a schedule, Vance," Julian said, his voice devoid of patience. "I'm sending the attendant in."

"No!" Elara said quickly. She didn't want a stranger touching her. "Just... give me a second."

"You have ten seconds before I consider this a medical emergency and breach the door myself," Julian warned. He sounded like he was negotiating a hostage release, cold and functional.

Elara's hand shook with annoyance as she reached for the lock. She clicked it open.

The door swung inward. Julian stepped in, immediately filling the small space. He closed the door behind him, sealing them in.

The scent of him-sandalwood and cold air-overwhelmed the perfume of the store.

He looked at her. His eyes traveled from her bare shoulders down the curve of her spine to where the zipper had eaten her hair and the dress fabric.

He didn't mock her. He didn't make a snide comment about her clumsiness.

He pulled off his leather gloves, tossing them onto the small bench.

"Turn around," he commanded.

Elara obeyed, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She exposed her back to him, her hair tangled in the metal teeth of the dress.

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