Chapter 102
Aria's POV
Christopher emerged from the shadow of a nearby oak tree, his signature smirk firmly in place. His eyes danced between Devon and me with undisguised curiosity.
I took a half-step back, smoothing down my silk dress. The moment of intimacy had been shattered, leaving an awkward tension in its wake. Devon's jaw tightened visibly, his eyes darkening with irritation at the interruption. I noticed his hands flex slightly at his sides, as if he was restraining himself from reaching for me again.
"Don't mind me," Christopher continued, his voice dripping with amusement. "Pretend I'm not even here. Carry on with whatever you were doing."
Devon turned slowly to face his friend. "Apparently all that food inside wasn't enough to keep your mouth occupied."
His words were cold, but I caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth—he wasn't truly angry with Christopher, just annoyed at the timing. I suppressed a smile, watching the interaction with growing interest. This was a side of Devon I rarely saw—someone with actual friendships, however complicated they might be.
Christopher's attention shifted fully to me. "So, Aria Harper, are you two officially dating now? This is quite the development."
The question hung in the air between us. What exactly were we? A business arrangement with benefits? Two people using each other for different reasons? I knew the answer—our relationship was purely transactional—but something about saying it aloud felt wrong. I felt a strange tightness in my chest at the thought of reducing what was between us to mere business.
"Mr. Quinn, if you're so curious about Mr. Kane's personal life, perhaps you should ask him directly instead of interrogating me," I replied smoothly, neither confirming nor denying.
I glanced at Devon, curious about his reaction. His expression remained impassive, but his eyes met mine briefly with something that looked almost like gratitude.
Christopher's eyes widened with delight at my response. "Oh, I like her, Devon. She's got spark."
Devon's hand suddenly found the small of my back, his touch possessive. The warmth of his palm seeped through the thin silk of my dress, sending a subtle current across my skin.
"Aria, come with me."
His tone left no room for argument, but I couldn't resist challenging him. "Can't you wait for me just a moment?" I asked, my voice deliberately soft, almost playful.
Something flickered in Devon's eyes—surprise, perhaps, that I hadn't immediately obeyed. A slight frown creased his brow, then smoothed away as he studied my face. To my shock, he actually waited, allowing me to finish my conversation with Christopher. Even more surprising was when I slipped my arm through his, my fingers resting lightly on his wrist, and he didn't pull away. Instead, his muscles tensed briefly before relaxing under my touch, his breathing pattern changing almost imperceptibly.
Christopher's eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. Devon Kane, notorious for avoiding physical contact in public, was allowing a woman to touch him casually. I pretended not to notice the significance, but my pulse quickened at the realization. Was this part of our arrangement too, or something unscripted?
As Devon led me toward the main building, I caught snippets of conversation behind us.
"Well, that's that, then," Christopher was saying to Noah, who had just emerged from the lodge. "Devon bringing Aria to something like this is basically announcing he won't be marrying Carolin after all."
"You have too much time on your hands," Noah replied dryly, his expression unreadable as always.
My step faltered slightly. Was that true? Was Devon making some kind of statement by bringing me here? I pushed the thought away, but not before noticing the tiny flutter in my stomach. Our arrangement was clear and limited—nothing more.
The lodge's gardens were beautifully landscaped, with stone pathways winding between expertly manicured hedges and seasonal blooms. Devon guided me toward a secluded terrace, but I stopped abruptly when I spotted a familiar figure by the barbecue area.
Owen Wilson stood there, attentively preparing a plate of grilled meats for a petite blonde woman. His hand rested casually on her lower back as he leaned in to whisper something that made her giggle. The sight sent a wave of anger through me as I remembered Sophia's tear-stained face just hours earlier. My fingers curled into a fist at my side.
"What's wrong?" Devon asked, noticing my sudden tension. His voice had dropped lower, concerned rather than demanding. I felt his gaze scanning my face, reading me with that unnerving accuracy he sometimes displayed.
Before I could answer, Owen looked up and saw me. His face broke into a wide smile as he handed the plate to the blonde woman and headed our way.
"Aria Harper! I haven't seen you since graduation!" he called out, his voice carrying the same charm that had once captivated Sophia.
"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly, not bothering to return his smile. I felt Devon shift beside me, his attention moving between Owen and me with careful assessment.
"I'm Devon's cousin," he explained, looking between us with curiosity. "Second cousin, actually, on his mother's side. I just got back from Tokyo."
Of course. The universe had a twisted sense of humor. Sophia's ex-boyfriend was related to Devon. Perfect. I exhaled slowly, trying to maintain my composure.
"Would you like to try some of my famous grilled ribeye?" Owen offered, gesturing toward the barbecue. "I've been told it's quite exceptional."
"I'm on a diet," I replied flatly. Devon's eyes narrowed slightly at my tone, his head tilting almost imperceptibly as he observed our interaction with increasing interest.
I pulled out my phone, typing a message to Sophia about Owen's presence, then immediately deleted it. This information would only hurt her more. I should never have come to this gathering, especially knowing it was apparently some kind of welcome party for Owen. My fingers hovered over the screen, indecisive.
Devon studied my face with unsettling intensity, his eyes tracing every microexpression. "You're upset. Why?" The question wasn't demanding but genuinely inquiring, as if my emotional state actually mattered to him beyond our arrangement.
"If I'd known this was a welcome party for that cheating bastard, I wouldn't have come," I said quietly, not caring if my disdain showed. Devon's eyes registered understanding, his posture shifting slightly closer to me in silent solidarity.
Owen approached again, this time with two glasses of champagne. "Let's toast to old friendships rekindled," he suggested, extending one glass toward me.
"Mr. Wilson, no need for courtesy. I've stopped drinking," I lied, avoiding the glass like it contained poison.
Owen's smile faltered, confusion crossing his features. "Have I done something to offend you, Aria?"
"Oh, Mr. Wilson, you're joking," I replied, my tone sickeningly sweet. "We hardly know each other well enough for you to have offended me."
The tension was palpable. Owen glanced between Devon and me, then asked, "Could we speak privately for a moment, Aria?"
Devon stepped closer to me, his shoulder slightly ahead of mine in a subtly protective stance. The movement wasn't theatrical or possessive—just a quiet positioning that conveyed support. His eyes had cooled several degrees when they met Owen's. "She doesn't seem interested in talking to you."
The simple statement carried a weight of authority that seemed to surprise even Owen. I felt an unexpected warmth spread through my chest at Devon's defense. It wasn't part of our agreement, this protection.
Owen's confusion deepened. "Since when are you two together? I thought—" He stopped himself, looking genuinely perplexed.
He finally sat down across from me, his voice dropping low enough that only I could hear. "Is she... is she doing okay?"
The question wasn't about me. It was about Sophia. Even while parading around with his new girlfriend, he was asking about my best friend. The audacity made my blood boil. I stared at him, saying nothing, letting my silence convey my contempt. I felt Devon's eyes on me, observing, analyzing.
"I never meant to hurt her," Owen continued, his eyes pleading for understanding. "It just... things changed while I was in Tokyo."
"Things changed," I repeated flatly. "How convenient."