Chapter 84
Aria's POV
The morning sun filtered through Devon's floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden streaks across the bed. I woke slowly, blinking against the light, and froze when I realized my position—nestled against Devon's bare chest, my arm draped casually across his torso as if we were lovers rather than business associates with benefits.
My face burned as I carefully extracted myself, thankful he was still asleep. His features looked different in repose—younger, unburdened by the sharp intensity that normally hardened his expression. Without thinking, I found myself reaching out, my fingertip lightly tracing the stubbled line of his jaw.
I yanked my hand back, shocked by my own intimacy. What was I doing? This was Devon Kane—a business arrangement, not a relationship. Not a man whose face I should be caressing while he slept.
The sunlight revealed something else I hadn't noticed before. The dark circles that normally shadowed his eyes had lightened considerably. I recalled his claim that he only slept well with me nearby and wondered if there was truth to it after all.
Slipping out of bed, I noticed a clothing set laid out on a nearby chair—a Chanel-inspired skirt suit in cream that looked exactly my size. My stomach tightened. Had he planned this? Did he somehow know I would call asking for his help with the Trending smear campaign? The thought was unsettling.
After showering and dressing, I made my way downstairs, following the sound of conversation. The lakeside property was even more stunning in daylight, with massive windows showcasing the glittering water beyond. I hesitated at the threshold of the outdoor terrace, where breakfast was being served.
Christopher spotted me first, his smile spreading into something distinctly suggestive. "Morning, sunshine. Sleep well?" he asked, the loaded question hanging in the air.
I felt my cheeks warm as I nodded briefly, avoiding eye contact. My gaze fell on Caroline, Devon's supposed fiancée, who sat elegantly sipping coffee. To my surprise, she offered me a warm smile instead of the cold hostility I'd expected.
"There's fresh coffee in the carafe," she said, gesturing to the table. "Devon mentioned you prefer it black with a touch of cinnamon."
I stared at her, thrown by both her friendliness and Devon's apparent knowledge of my coffee preference.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind me, and Devon appeared, looking irritatingly refreshed and composed in tailored slacks and a casual button-down. Unlike me, he showed no awkwardness whatsoever about our night together.
"I need to get back to the city," I said quickly, preparing my excuse to leave this increasingly uncomfortable situation.
"Sit," Devon replied simply, pulling out the chair beside him. It wasn't a request.
Trapped by politeness, I sat, watching as a uniformed staff member immediately appeared with a steaming cup of coffee—black with cinnamon, just as Caroline had said.
After breakfast, Devon suggested moving to the deck closer to the lake. The staff efficiently relocated our coffee and an array of pastries to a beautifully appointed seating area overlooking the water.
While Devon and Christopher discussed some business matter, Caroline touched my arm lightly and inclined her head toward the railing. Curious despite myself, I followed her to the edge of the deck.
"I should clarify something," she said, her voice low enough that the men couldn't hear. "Devon and I—it's not what you think."
I maintained a neutral expression. "Your relationship isn't my business."
"But it is, in a way." Her perfectly manicured fingers tapped the railing. "Our 'engagement' is purely a family arrangement. A performance." Her eyes drifted briefly toward Noah, who had been uncharacteristically quiet all morning. "The Hayes and Kane families have business ties going back generations. My mother and Eleanor have been planning our marriage since we were children."
I followed her gaze to Noah, noting the tension in his shoulders. "Why are you telling me this?"
Caroline's smile turned sad. "Because we're all trapped by family expectations in one way or another. Devon especially hates this arrangement." She touched my arm again, her grip surprisingly firm. "Just... don't judge what you don't understand."
I absorbed this information, watching Devon across the deck. It explained the odd dynamic between him and Caroline, the cold formality that seemed at odds with their supposed engagement. Before I could respond, we were called back to join the group.
"Mother is finalizing arrangements for next week's charity gala in Boston," Caroline announced as we returned to the table. "She's expecting me to attend as your future daughter-in-law, Devon."
Devon's expression hardened. "My mother's expectations aren't my commitments."
The sharp edge in his voice seemed to affect everyone at the table. A tense silence fell, broken suddenly by the sound of shattering glass. Noah had stood abruptly, knocking over his mimosa. Devon instinctively reached for the broken pieces, and I watched in horror as a jagged edge sliced deeply into his palm.
Blood welled immediately, bright red against his skin. Caroline gasped. Noah's face went ashen, and without a word, he strode away from the table. After a moment's hesitation, Caroline hurried after him, leaving Christopher, Devon, and me alone.
"Well," Christopher drawled, rising from his seat, "I think that's my cue to make some calls. You two enjoy your... privacy." He winked at me before walking away, calling over his shoulder: "You owe me one, Harper."
Devon didn't seem concerned about his bleeding hand, calmly accepting a cloth napkin from a hovering staff member. I moved to his side, taking the first aid kit a staff member had quickly produced.
"Let me see," I said, pulling his hand toward me.
The sunlight glinted off the lake beyond, casting rippling reflections across Devon's face as he lit a cigarette with his uninjured hand. The elegant lines of his profile looked almost ethereal in that light, and I forced myself to focus on the task at hand rather than the unsettling way my pulse quickened at his proximity.
My fingers trembled slightly as I cleaned the wound. I'd never been good with blood, but I was determined not to show weakness.
"It's deep," I murmured, carefully applying antiseptic. "You might need stitches."
"It's fine." His gaze remained fixed on me, studying my face with unsettling intensity. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"
I pressed harder on the wound than necessary, satisfied when he winced slightly. "I do not."
"Last night you did. Right before you curled against me like a contented cat."
My face flamed. "What did I say?" I demanded.
"That's between you and your subconscious," he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
I finished bandaging his hand with perhaps more force than required. "Don't get this wet for at least twelve hours," I instructed, packing away the first aid supplies.
Devon continued watching me, smoke curling from his cigarette. "Stay for the weekend," he said suddenly.
The unexpected invitation caught me off guard. His tone had softened, lacking the usual commanding edge. I studied his face, trying to determine if this was another business proposition or... something else.
My hesitation seemed to trigger something in him. The vulnerability vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his customary cool detachment.
"On second thought, you should head back to the city," he said, standing abruptly. "We can discuss work matters next week."