Chapter 26
Aria’s POV
My body responded to him instantly, embarrassingly eager despite the transactional nature of our encounter. Devon seemed to know exactly how to touch me, his movements calculated to extract maximum response.
When it was over, Devon rolled onto his back, his breathing only slightly elevated. "I'll have the investment department reinstate the contract," he said, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.
I lay beside him, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened. I'd essentially prostituted myself for a business deal. The realization should have filled me with shame, but all I felt was relief that my company would survive.
Devon sent a brief text, then set his phone aside. "It's done. You'll have the paperwork tomorrow."
"Thank you," I said, not knowing what else to say.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Don't thank me. You earned it."
I started to get up, thinking our business was concluded, but Devon caught my wrist. "Where are you going? We're not finished."
"But you said—"
"I said I'd reinstate the contract," he cut in. "I didn't say our evening was over."
For the next several hours, Devon demonstrated just how much stamina he possessed, taking me in various positions throughout his luxurious apartment. By the end, I was utterly exhausted, my body aching in places I hadn't known could ache.
As I lay panting on his bed, trying to gather the energy to dress and leave, the sound of the elevator arriving made me freeze.
Devon, who had just pulled on a pair of pants, looked toward the bedroom door with a frown. "Stay here," he instructed, closing the door behind him.
I scrambled off the bed, panic giving me renewed energy. Who could be visiting at this hour? I gathered my scattered clothing, dressing hastily while straining to hear the conversation in the other room.
A woman's voice, cultured and commanding, carried through the door. "Devon, darling, you look terrible. Have you been sleeping at all?"
"Mother," Devon's voice replied, sounding strained. "This is unexpected."
His mother? I felt a wave of mortification wash over me. I was essentially hiding in her son's bedroom after a marathon sex session.
"I was in the city for the Beaumont charity gala and thought I'd check on you," she continued. "You haven't been returning my calls."
"I've been busy."
"Too busy for your mother? The woman who gave you life?"
I could almost hear Devon's eye-roll in his response. "Did you need something specific, or is this a social call?"
"Can't I simply want to see my son? You work too hard, Devon. It's not healthy."
Their voices moved further away, presumably toward the living room. I inched the bedroom door open just enough to hear better.
"While I'm here," his mother continued, "I wanted to remind you about the Hayes dinner next weekend. Caroline will be there, and her father is still very interested in that merger we discussed."
"I've told you, I'm not interested in Caroline Hayes," Devon replied, his voice cold.
"She's from one of Boston's finest families, Devon. Beautiful, educated at Wellesley, and her father's shipping company would be an excellent addition to Kane Technology's portfolio."
"I'm not using my personal life as a business strategy."
His mother laughed, a tinkling sound with no real warmth. "Don't be naive, darling. Everything is business at our level."
I pressed closer to the crack in the door, straining to see. Devon and an elegant older woman were standing near the windows. She was impeccably dressed in what appeared to be Chanel, her gray-streaked hair pulled into a sleek chignon.
"I've met someone," Devon said suddenly.
My heart skipped a beat. Was he talking about me?
His mother raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Oh? And who is this mystery woman?"
"No one you need to concern yourself with yet."
She sighed dramatically. "Please tell me it's not another one of those marketing girls throwing themselves at you. They're all after the Kane fortune, you know."
I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation. Is that what I was to him? Just another gold-digger trying to sleep her way into his wallet?
"It's late, Mother," Devon said firmly. "I'll have James drive you back to your hotel."
"You're dismissing me already? I haven't even had a chance to see what redecorating you've done since my last visit."
"Another time."
Their voices moved toward the elevator, and I quickly closed the bedroom door, my heart pounding. I heard the elevator doors open, then Devon's mother's voice one last time.
"Think about Caroline, Devon. The Hayes family has been waiting for an answer."
When the elevator doors closed, I counted to thirty before emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed and as composed as I could manage.
Devon stood by the windows, his back to me. "I apologize for the interruption."
"It's fine," I said, trying to sound casual. "I should go anyway."
He turned to face me. "I'll have my driver take you home."
"That's not necessary—"
"It's nearly midnight, Aria. My driver will take you."
His tone left no room for argument. Devon texted someone, then gestured toward the elevator. "He'll be waiting downstairs."
The ride down was silent and awkward. I wanted to ask about what his mother had said, about this Caroline person and whether he'd really "met someone" or was just trying to deflect his mother's matchmaking. But none of that was my business. We had a contract—both business and personal—nothing more.
Devon's driver was waiting in a sleek black Mercedes when we exited the building. Devon opened the car door for me, his hand briefly touching the small of my back.
"I'll be in touch," he said, then stepped back as the car pulled away from the curb.
The drive to my father's house took about twenty minutes. As we approached the familiar Upper East Side mansion, I saw two figures walking up the steps to the front door—my father and Scarlett, returning from some event. They were laughing together, William's hand resting affectionately on Scarlett's shoulder. I watched as he reached up to ruffle her hair, a gesture of paternal tenderness he'd never once shown me.
The sight made my throat tighten. Even now, five years after my mother's death, it still hurt to see how easily I'd been replaced in my father's affections.
I instructed the driver to wait until they'd gone inside before dropping me off. No need for awkward explanations about where I'd been or why I was returning in a chauffeur-driven car.
Once they'd disappeared inside, I had the driver let me out half a block away. I walked slowly up to the house, my body still aching from the evening's activities and my mind replaying Devon's mother's words about "marketing girls" who were "after the Kane fortune."
I used my key to enter quietly, hoping to slip upstairs without encountering anyone. But as soon as I closed the door behind me, the foyer lights flicked on.
"Where have you been?" My father stood at the bottom of the stairs, his expression thunderous. He'd changed from his evening attire into a smoking jacket, clearly having been waiting up for me.