Chapter 11
Aria’s POV
I followed him into an even more exclusive section, where plush booths lined the walls and a small dance floor occupied the center space. In the corner booth sat Devon, impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit with no tie, looking bored and slightly irritated. Beside him sat a stunning woman in a skintight red dress, her hand possessively on his thigh.
My steps faltered, but I forced myself forward. Devon's eyes met mine, cold and assessing, revealing nothing.
"Mr. Kane," I began formally. "Thank you for seeing me."
"I don't recall agreeing to see you, Ms. Harper," he replied, his voice flat. "In fact, I believe my response was quite clear."
The woman in red gave me a contemptuous once-over, her eyes lingering on my sensible shoes before dismissing me entirely. She leaned closer to Devon, whispering something in his ear that made his lips twitch slightly.
"I understand you're busy," I pressed on, ignoring the humiliation burning in my cheeks. "But the proposal I sent has been completely redesigned based on your feedback. I believe it addresses all your concerns about digital integration and blockchain applications."
Devon took a slow sip of his whiskey, making me wait. "Christopher," he said finally, "would you mind getting Ms. Harper a drink? She looks... tense."
Christopher grinned. "What's your poison, Harper?"
"I'm fine, thank—"
"She'll have whiskey," Devon interrupted. "The Macallan 25."
Christopher nodded and moved toward the bar. I remained standing awkwardly, unsure if I should sit.
"Your outfit is very... corporate," the woman in red observed with false sweetness. "Are you his secretary?"
I forced a polite smile. "Aria Harper, CEO of Stellar Impressions."
"How adorable," she cooed, then turned to Devon. "Baby, we were discussing the yacht for next weekend, remember?"
Devon's eyes remained on me, ignoring her completely. "Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the space across from him.
I slid into the booth, placing my portfolio on the table. "As I was saying, I've revised the proposal to—"
"I'm not interested in your proposal right now," Devon cut me off. "I'm interested in why you thought tracking me down at my private club was appropriate."
Christopher returned with my whiskey, placing it before me with a flourish. "Enjoy," he said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd.
"You've been avoiding my calls and emails," I said, struggling to maintain my professional demeanor. "My company needs an answer on this contract."
"Perhaps I've been avoiding you because our last interaction made it clear you use business as a pretense for personal agendas," Devon replied coldly.
The woman in red perked up at this, her eyes darting between us with newfound interest. "Oh? Is there history here?"
I felt myself flush. "There's no history. Just a business relationship that got off on the wrong foot."
"Is that what we're calling it now?" Devon's voice was silky with danger. He leaned forward, eyes locked on mine. "Drink your whiskey, Ms. Harper."
It wasn't a suggestion. I picked up the glass, the amber liquid catching the low light. "Mr. Kane, I understand you have reservations, but—"
"Drink," he repeated. "If you want me to even consider looking at your proposal, show me you can relax that rigid exterior first."
The woman in red smiled viciously, enjoying my discomfort. She reached for a bottle on the table and poured another glass, sliding it toward me. "Since you're so... thirsty for a contract."
Devon didn't stop her, his expression unreadable as he watched me.
I realized this was a test—a cruel one, but a test nonetheless. Pride warred with desperation in my chest. Stellar Impressions needed this contract. Sophia's mother needed her surgery. My employees needed their paychecks.
With a steady hand, I picked up the first whiskey and took a deliberate sip, maintaining eye contact with Devon the entire time. The expensive liquor burned smoothly down my throat. I set the glass down carefully and reached for the second one, repeating the process without breaking his gaze.
Something shifted in Devon's expression—surprise, perhaps, or reluctant approval. I felt a small victory in that subtle change.
I unbuttoned my suit jacket, suddenly warm from the alcohol and the intensity of his stare. The silk blouse underneath clung to my curves more revealingly than the structured jacket had allowed.
Devon's eyes dropped briefly to the newly exposed skin at my collar before returning to my face. "Your determination is admirable, if misguided," he said, his tone marginally softer.
"It's not determination," I replied, setting down the second empty glass. "It's survival. This contract means everything to my company right now."
The woman in red pouted, clearly annoyed at losing Devon's attention. She poured a third whiskey and pushed it toward me. "One more, honey. Show how dedicated you are."
I hesitated, already feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through my system. Two double whiskeys on an empty stomach was already pushing my limits.
Devon watched me intently. "No one's forcing you, Ms. Harper. You're free to leave whenever you wish."
The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. I picked up the third glass, maintaining my composure as I took another sip. The woman in red frowned, clearly expecting me to choke or refuse.
I was about to respond when a commotion at the entrance to the VIP section caught everyone's attention. A familiar voice was arguing with security.
"I know she's in there! Aria Harper—she's my fiancée!"
Ethan.
I closed my eyes briefly in frustration as he pushed past the velvet rope, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild as they searched the room and landed on me.
"Aria!" he exclaimed, striding toward our table. "What the hell are you doing here? With him?"
Devon leaned back in his seat, looking almost amused now. "Mr. Blake. How unexpected."
"Stay out of this, Mr. Kane," Ethan snapped, turning to me. "You said you had a business meeting. This doesn't look like business to me."
I stood up, feeling the whiskey hit me as I rose too quickly. "Ethan, you need to leave. Now."
"Not without you," he insisted, grabbing my arm. "I don't know what game you're playing, but it's gone far enough."
Devon didn't move from his seat, but his voice cut through the tension like a blade. "I believe Ms. Harper asked you to leave, Blake. Or would you prefer my security escorts you out? I understand you're familiar with being thrown out of establishments."
Ethan's face flushed with anger. "You think I don't see what you're doing? Using her company's vulnerability to get her into your bed? It's pathetic."
"Ethan!" I hissed, mortified. "This is a business meeting that you're interrupting. Again."
"Really?" He gestured to the empty glasses on the table. "What kind of business requires three whiskeys?"
Devon finally stood, his height and presence immediately dominating the space. "Ms. Harper, perhaps you should handle your personal matters before attempting to discuss business. We can reschedule when you've sorted out this... situation."