Chapter 40

Chapter 40
  “Sentimentality? I’m not sentimental towards fucking Liam”, Aria scowled subconsciously. “It’s simply about practicality.”
   “Practicality,” Aston repeated heavily. Aria felt the subtle edge of scolding in his tone but…nah that wasn’t possible. Aston was a block of ice. “Is it practical to let a man manhandle you? Because in my world, Aria, that’s called a liability.”
   Aria bristled. She let HIM manhandle her and he didn’t call that a liability — well, ‘let’ was a heavy word. She could harm Liam, threaten him to stop, push him away. But she couldn’t do much to Aston. She didn’t think she could do much even if she had added more years of training to her belt. 
   “It’s practical because if the Rothschild heir turns up with a crushed windpipe in the company garage, my mission ends before it starts. I need access, Aston. Not a murder investigation.”
   Aston’s mouth moved into a straight line before he pursed his lips. Aria employed all her years of serious training on stealth to unabashedly stare at her husband. This was an expression she had never seen him make, not imagined he could ever make. 
   He looked exactly like Asher did when he was trying to swallow something he didn’t like. 
   He looked…cute.
   The crazy man looked cute.
   Aria was possibly going even more insane. It wouldn’t be inconceivable with the day she’d had. All the people that had bothered her today had driven her mad.
   “Fine. Let’s focus on the mission then.” He reached into the back seat without looking away from the road and casually tossed a thick, black leather folder into her lap. “This is the first debt in Arthur’s ledger, a man named Silas Vane.”
   Aria opened the folder. Her eyes scanned the documents. There were encrypted bank transfers, a list of high-stakes gambling debts and several photos of a man with a face like crumpled paper.
   Ugh.
   She had seen him with her grandfather before.
   He had leered at her.
   Even her 7 year old self had found him ugly.
   “Vane was Arthur’s primary offshore launderer twenty years ago,” Aston explained. “He vanished with forty million of the family’s ‘gray’ funds. Arthur doesn't want the money back as much as he wants the ledger Vane took with him. It contains the names of every politician Arthur has ever bought.”
   “Oh. Isn’t taking it from him going to help my grandfather?”
   “It will. And it won’t”, Aston said, one hand lifting from the steering wheel so he could reach for the folder.
   Aria’s heart went into overdrive as his fingers ghosted her very clothed thigh while he pointed at the folder. It was like she could feel the heat of his hand through her pants. “Arthur doesn’t need someone with leverage playing around. But we don’t care, we’re just going to switch the owners of the leverage from ugly Vane to handsome me.”
   Aria snorted out a laugh. “And you found him how?” She asked, impressed despite herself.
   “I found his ghost really. He’s hiding in plain sight as a high-end antique dealer. You’re going to infiltrate his private auction next week. You’ll be my plus one. According to my sources, the ledger is sewn into the lining of a 19th-century diplomat’s jacket.”
   “Roland…or Aston’s plus one?”
   Aston glanced at her with a little smirk. “Aston. Unfortunately you can’t be Aria here. Vane would vanish like smoke if a Griffin showed up.”
   “Oh…who will I be then?”
   “Whoever you want to be.”
   Aria let out a puff of air. She looked at Aston’s profile, the sharp line of his jaw and the way his eyes never left the road, she felt that annoying, fluttery heat in her chest again. She was falling for a man who viewed people as chess pieces.
   ‘God, I really do have a type,’ she thought bitterly.
   “Speaking of whoever you want to be,” Aston continued, interrupting her self-loathing. “Your little company. You seem to be struggling with visibility and distribution.”
   Aria crossed her arms, another form of shame completely different from what she had been feeling all day taking a treacherous root near her heart. It felt like she should bury herself in a hole. He was being very neutral, not at all judgemental about it, but she felt like she was once again useless. “We’re scaling. It takes time.”
    “A friend of mine, a director at the Stuttgart de Mode, is hosting a global design invitational competition. Usually, it’s strictly for German houses, but I... suggested they expand the bracket to include a single independent international entry.”
   Aria’s heart skipped. “The Stuttgart Invitational? If I qualify for even the first round there, my designs would be in every boutique in Europe.” She looked at him, suspicious and accusing. “You’re not thinking of rigging it, are you? If I win because you bought the judges, I’ll burn down your study.”
   Aston let out a low, genuine chuckle that sent a shiver down her spine. “I considered it. But,” he glanced at her, his eyes uncharacteristically soft for a split second, “I trust your competence more than I trust a bribe.”
   The compliment hit her harder than any insults ever did. The little shame that had tried taking root burnt up into ashes. It was a rush of adrenaline, hearing that someone trusted her competence, especially when that someone was Aston Beaumont.
   Aston was competent in itself. And she had a tiny crush on him. It was like the weight of ten thousand compliments from other people.
   She felt her face heating up and quickly looked out the window. Miniature Aria was being swarmed with butterflies and her tiny gun could do nothing in the face of it all.
   “Why did you do it, anyway?” she blurted out.
   Aston slowed the car as they approached Asher’s school. “Do what?”
   “The alias. Roland Beaumont. You’re a king in your own right, a man people fear, a man my granddad respects. Why hide behind a ‘ghost’ identity and let people call you an ugly recluse?”
   Aston was silent for a moment, his hands steady on the wheel. “When the world thinks you are a monster, they watch your every move, your prey runs away. When the world thinks you are a pathetic ghost, they stop looking altogether. I think you know better than anyone, that it’s easier to burn a house down when nobody believes you’re holding the matches.”
   Aria smiled without her own permission. He was so honest about his darkness it was almost refreshing. “I’m surprised you told me that.”
   “I’d never deny my wife the truth,” he said, leaning over to unbuckle her seatbelt. His face was inches from hers, the scent of sandalwood overwhelming. She could hear her pulse in her ears and it was loud and fast, heat spreading from her stomach downwards. “Whatever you want, Aria, you only have to ask.”
   Aria’s brain short-circuited. She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to run away, she wanted to touch him, she wanted to push him away. Abruptly, her greed took the wheel.
   “Does that include my commission? Because if I get that ledger and work as your spy, I expect to be paid for the mission. In cash. Non-negotiable.”
   Aston paused his movements and stared at her, deadpan. He blinked once, twice, and then finally leaned back, looking like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or throw her out of the car.
   “You… are one of a kind, Aria,” he sighed and lightly shook his head. 
   That was amusement.
   She could see amusement on his features.
   She had amused Aston! It was strange how it ranked on the same level in her head as when she rigged places to explode.
   “I’m just a girl”, she shrugged. He gave her a sidelong glance.
   “You’ll get your commission. However much you want.”
   “100%.”
   Aston did a double take and burst into laughter. Loud, bright laughter, the kind where he threw his head back and used a hand to cover his eyes. “I didn’t know you were killing the president, it’s just retrieving a ledger, aren’t your prices a little too steep?”
   Aria couldn’t see herself but she knew there was a big, stupid smile on her face. “You said whatever I wanted. Are you trying to be a cheapskate, Mr Beaumont?”
   He opened his eyes, narrowed them and looked at her, his laughter fading into a grin. “I would never dare. Whatever you want, you get, Mrs Beaumont.”
   She bit her lip to curb her expression. She had a reputation to maintain, this man was supposed to be her ENEMY! 
   Enemy, Aria!
   She had warring feelings within her. Two parts giddy, eight parts PISSED about being giddy. She was a Griffin. She had learnt her lesson. It shouldn’t be this easy to get through her defenses.
   The thought still didn’t stop her from catching her reflection as she exited her car, her mouth pulled in a wide smile.