Chapter 91
Aria's POV
The hallway in Elysium was dimly lit, bass from the club thumping through the walls as I stood facing Ethan. His familiar cologne reached me even through the smell of alcohol and perfume that hung in the air. I remained silent, studying him with cold detachment.
"Have you considered my proposal?" Ethan leaned closer, his confident smile never wavering. "Retract your statement, marry me, and the Blake family will make the SEC investigation disappear immediately."
"Agree to my ass," I replied, my voice steady despite my internal rage. "You really never learn to take no for an answer, do you?"
Ethan lowered his voice, stepping closer. "Don't be stubborn, Aria. Think about your father and Harper Group. They need our family's support too."
I laughed bitterly. "My company, my father's company—what the hell business is it of yours? You lost any right to dictate my life when you slept with my stepsister."
Before Ethan could respond, a flash of white appeared in my peripheral vision. Scarlett approached us in a tight white mini dress, her expression perfectly crafted to appear innocent and concerned.
"Aria," she said with feigned surprise. "Dad's been looking everywhere for you. He's really worried about those investigations into your company."
I turned to Ethan with a cold smile. "Look, your baby mama has arrived."
The color drained from Scarlett's face, though she quickly recovered, forcing a smile. "Dad really isn't feeling well. He needs you."
"If he cares about you so much," I said, my voice dripping with disdain, "why aren't you at home taking care of him instead of out looking for men?"
Scarlett's lips trembled. Ethan quickly steadied her by gripping her elbow, his protective gesture confirming everything I needed to know.
I turned and walked away, heading for the exit. As I pushed through the crowd, I heard Ethan call after me, "Aria—"
Then Scarlett's voice, suddenly pained: "Ethan, I don't feel well. Can you take me to the hospital?"
I didn't look back.
Back in my apartment, I kicked off my heels and collapsed onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling. The SEC investigation was squeezing Stellar Impressions from all sides, and the Blakes' commercial blacklisting had potential clients running scared. I needed a solution—fast.
My phone lit up with notifications: three missed calls from my father, a text from Sofia about tomorrow's emergency meeting, and an email from our accountant warning about cash flow issues.
"Damn it," I muttered, rubbing my temples.
I couldn't go to my father for help—not after the press conference. The Blakes were obviously out of the question. Devon... I pushed that thought away immediately. Our arrangement was strictly business, and I refused to become the desperate woman begging for rescue.
I pulled up my contact list, scrolling through names. Most were connected to either the Blakes or my father, making them useless. Then I paused on Preston Scott—a venture capitalist I'd met at a tech conference last year. He wasn't tied to either family and had expressed interest in expanding into marketing ventures.
"Worth a shot," I said aloud, drafting an email requesting a meeting.
To my surprise, he responded within minutes, agreeing to meet tomorrow at Le Cirque. Hope flickered—maybe I could save my company on my own after all.
---
The next day at noon, I sat in a private dining room at Le Cirque, facing Preston Scott across the polished table. I had dressed with careful consideration—a navy blue business suit, conservative yet tailored to show confidence. The folder of company data lay open between us.
"Mr. Scott, I hope we can discuss the possibility of potential collaboration," I said, keeping my voice professional despite the knot in my stomach.
Preston straightened his tie, eyeing me. "Please, call me Preston. I must be honest, I've heard Stellar Impressions is facing some... difficulties?"
I maintained my professional smile. "Just temporary compliance adjustments. All our processes meet regulations."
Preston nodded slowly. "I see. Actually, I might be interested in providing around five million in investment. Of course, assuming we can establish... trust."
A flicker of hope ignited within me. "I'm glad to hear that. We can discuss specific terms."
The waiter delivered our drinks and departed. As soon as the door closed, Preston moved to the seat beside mine, his arm draping over the back of my chair.
"Business is about relationships, Ms. Harper," he said, his fingers "accidentally" brushing my shoulder.
I kept my smile fixed, discreetly activating my phone's recording app in my jacket pocket. "Do you have any specific suggestions about our proposal?"
Preston laughed loudly. "Let's not pretend. I've heard the Blake family has put out the word—no one's supposed to work with you. But I'm different..." His hand slid toward my knee.
I remained perfectly still, my mind calculating options. "Different how?"
"If Ms. Harper is willing to be... accommodating, we could sign the contract today." His fingers made contact with my knee, squeezing slightly.
In one smooth motion, I poured my tea directly onto his lap. "I'm so sorry—my hand slipped."
Preston jumped up, shock quickly transforming to fury as he stared at the spreading stain on his expensive trousers. "Do you know how much this suit costs? Ten thousand dollars! You'll pay for this!"
I held up my phone, screen displaying the recording app. "Do you know how much this recording is worth? I'm sure the media would find it quite interesting."
His face contorted with rage. He lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair. "Give me that phone! Now!"
The waitstaff hesitated by the door, clearly uncertain about intervening. I struggled against his grip, pain shooting across my scalp. Through watering eyes, I glimpsed a familiar figure at the restaurant entrance.
"Devon!" I called out, my voice shaking but determined. "Help me!"