Chapter 211
Aria's POV
I felt my wrist captured in a firm grip, Devon's hold leaving no room for refusal. He practically dragged me toward his black Maybach, his movements forceful yet somehow careful not to cause pain. I tried to pull away, but he only tightened his fingers.
"Let me go, Devon. I didn't agree to go anywhere with you," I tried to keep my voice steady, but my heartbeat was already accelerating beyond my control.
Devon opened the car door, essentially shoving me into the passenger seat. "Taking you somewhere nice," his voice was deep, carrying an authority that brooked no argument. "Buckle up."
"I have work tomorrow," I protested, even as my hands automatically fastened the seatbelt.
Devon's long fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, eyes fixed straight ahead. "Take the day off." His instructions were as brief as a corporate memo. "Weren't you scared yesterday? Thought I'd help you relax a little."
The car sped through Manhattan's night streets, eventually pulling into a secluded private area. I was shocked to discover it was a small private airfield.
"Where are we going?" I finally found my voice when Devon opened the door.
"You'll find out soon enough," he answered, one hand resting lightly on my waist guiding me forward, the other carrying a small travel bag that had appeared from nowhere.
A white Gulfstream G650 jet waited nearby, its stairs already lowered. I involuntarily slowed my pace. "Devon, I don't have anything with me. Not even a toothbrush."
"Everything's been arranged." His casual response came as his arm tightened around me, half-pushing, half-carrying me up the stairs and onto the plane.
The cabin interior was breathtakingly luxurious, cream leather seats and natural wood finishes glowing warmly under soft lighting. A blonde flight attendant immediately approached, her professional smile carrying a hint of excessive enthusiasm.
"Welcome aboard, Mr. Kane," her voice was honey-sweet, deliberately ignoring my existence.
Devon acknowledged her with a nod, leading me toward a seating area in the rear cabin. The attendant followed closely, carrying a glass of whiskey. She deliberately spilled the drink on Devon's white shirt, then feigned panic.
"Oh! I'm so sorry," she leaned in close to Devon, her fingers almost touching his chest. "Let me help you with that, Mr. Kane."
I watched Devon's expression instantly turn glacial, like steel in the dead of winter. He stepped back, raising his hand to signal a security guard standing nearby. "Get her out," he ordered, his voice quiet but menacing. "What kind of trash do they keep sending my way?"
The guard immediately stepped forward, politely but firmly escorting the flight attendant away. The entire process took less than thirty seconds, without any argument or noise. The efficiency was chilling.
Devon turned around, catching me watching him, his lips curving slightly upward. "Enjoying the show comes with a price, Aria."
I felt my cheeks flush and quickly averted my gaze. He unbuttoned his alcohol-soaked shirt, revealing perfect bronze skin and toned muscles beneath. I pretended to focus on the window, though my peripheral vision caught him changing into a deep blue shirt.
As the engine roar gradually increased, the plane began to taxi. My fingers gripped the armrests tightly, knuckles whitening.
"First time on a private jet?" Devon sat beside me, his voice tinged with amusement.
"No," I responded reflexively. "I just don't like the feeling of takeoff."
His hand covered mine, warm and steady. "It'll pass."
This simple touch left me both wanting to pull away and reluctant to lose the comfort. The plane accelerated, then lifted off, my stomach lurching with the motion. Devon's hand remained firmly over mine until the aircraft stabilized at cruising altitude.
"There," he said, leaning closer, "now we have three hours to kill. Any suggestions, Aria?"
His voice carried a dangerous suggestion that made my heart race again. I should refuse, should maintain distance, but when his lips touched the side of my neck, all rationality flew out the window.
Hours later, I looked through the window to see twinkling coastal lights. Bright colors, unfamiliar layout. "Is this..."
"Miami," Devon confirmed my guess, already straightening his shirt in preparation for landing.
I stared at him in shock. Just hours ago, I'd learned from Calvin that Scarlett might be in Miami, and now Devon had brought me here. The coincidence was too perfect. I couldn't help wondering if Devon was actually monitoring me, aware of my every movement and conversation. But the thought seemed too absurd, and I quickly dismissed it.
A black Cadillac Escalade waited on the tarmac. Devon guided me to the car, his fingers once again gripping my wrist. "Stay close," he warned. "Don't ask questions you shouldn't."
The car drove toward the city center, eventually stopping at a brightly lit marina. A burly, bearded middle-aged man approached, his smile enthusiastic yet calculated.
"Devon! Old friend," he clapped Devon's shoulder forcefully, his gaze then falling on me with undisguised assessment. "And who's this?"
"Aria," Devon slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. "My girlfriend. Buzz, don't look at her like that."
Buzz Hamilton raised both hands in mock surrender. "Never mess with another man's woman, you know that."
We followed Buzz to a luxury yacht, its white hull gleaming in the darkness. After boarding, Devon directed me to the main cabin. "Go rest in the room," he said. "I'll call you when we arrive."
The cabin interior was luxurious and comfortable, but as the yacht started moving, a wave of dizziness hit me. Miami's waters were evidently not as calm as I'd imagined. I lay on the bed, face pale, feeling my stomach churn.
Some time later, a knock came at the door, and Devon entered. He looked at my pallid face, took a small bottle from his pocket, and shook out a pill. "Take it," he said. "You'll feel better."
I hesitated momentarily, but eventually accepted the pill and the water glass he offered. The medication quickly took effect, the dizziness gradually subsiding as I drifted into sleep.
"Aria," Devon's voice penetrated my slumber. "We're almost there. Get up and get ready to board."
I forced my eyes open to see Devon standing in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the corridor light, perfect and austere like a statue.
"Board what?" I asked, my voice husky with sleep.
"Just get up," he commanded, his eyes flashing with an emotion I couldn't interpret. "There are some things you'll want to see."