Chapter 115
Aria's POV
Richard leaned closer, his expensive Clive Christian cologne suffocating me as I instinctively shifted backward in my seat. The scent was overwhelming and artificial, much like this entire dinner arrangement.
"Your Stellar Impressions has quite the reputation in Brooklyn. High-end brand marketing, isn't it?" He glanced at my father from the corner of his eye, clearly checking if his performance was meeting expectations.
"Yes, we focus on premium brand marketing strategies," I replied curtly, my fingers rhythmically tapping against my crystal wine glass. My eyes drifted toward the restaurant entrance, a hollow feeling spreading in my chest as I wondered what Devon was doing right now.
"Do you play golf? I have a membership at the country club in the Hamptons. We could go this weekend." Richard's voice dropped to a suggestive tone that made my skin crawl. "They say you're quite talented at planning social events. I'm curious about your... creative thinking."
I forced a smile, masking my revulsion while discreetly checking my phone under the table. No messages from Devon. The screen remained blank, just like it had been since our awkward encounter with Mandy. I felt a sharp pang of disappointment that surprised me with its intensity.
"Please excuse me," I said, placing my napkin on the table and standing up. "I suddenly have a terrible headache. I'm afraid I need to leave early."
William's smile instantly froze. "Sit down, Aria." His voice was ice cold, brooking no argument. "Brown Group's potential investment discussions with our company have just begun."
A chill spread through me as I locked eyes with my father. This wasn't a setup for romance—it was a business transaction. He was trading me for the Brown family's money. The realization made something inside me harden with resolve.
Victoria slid seamlessly into the conversation, her practiced smile never faltering. "Richard, perhaps you could escort Aria home? Young people need their private space to... connect." Something cunning flashed in her eyes.
Richard immediately stood, straightening his custom suit. "It would be my pleasure."
"I have my own car, but thank you," I said, quickening my pace toward the exit, my heartbeat picking up with anxiety.
Richard followed closely behind. "The night is late. Let me make sure you get home safely." His gaze lingered uncomfortably on my waistline and collarbone, no longer bothering to maintain the gentlemanly facade.
When I unlocked my Mercedes in the parking lot, Richard swiftly circled to the passenger side and let himself in before I could object. "Perhaps we could stop by my apartment nearby for a nightcap?" His hand casually brushed my knee.
My stomach churned with disgust. I was frantically calculating my escape options when something caught my eye through the window—a familiar black Bentley parked several spaces away. Then I saw him—Devon Kane, walking toward the restaurant entrance.
My heart stuttered. Devon looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual, but still commanding in his perfectly tailored dark gray suit. Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by an unexpected surge of warmth.
"Excuse me, I see someone I know," I said hurriedly, opening my door and quickly moving toward Devon.
When he turned, surprise flickered across his tired gray eyes. His brows lifted slightly, and for a brief moment, his carefully maintained mask slipped, revealing something that looked almost like pleasure at seeing me before his expression reset to its typical cool detachment.
"Mr. Kane," I called out, my voice betraying more urgency than I'd intended. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for him.
Without giving Devon time to react, I linked my arm through his and rose on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Please help me. That man won't leave me alone. My father arranged this date." I could feel the warmth of his body, the subtle scent of his cologne mixing with something uniquely him. My pulse quickened at our proximity.
Devon's body tensed instantly. His arm stiffened under my grip, and I felt him take a slow, deliberate breath. When I pulled back slightly to look at his face, his eyes had darkened, the gray turning stormy. His jaw tightened as he looked over my shoulder at Richard, who was now approaching us.
"Aria, you shouldn't just walk away like that," Richard said firmly, then recognized Devon. His expression shifted subtly. "Mr. Kane? I didn't expect to see you here."
"Brown." Devon's acknowledgment was clipped, his voice cold. His posture had changed, becoming more protective, his body angling slightly in front of mine.
Richard's eyes darted between us suspiciously. "You two know each other?"
"Let me guess," Richard continued with a forced smile. "Mr. Kane and you are... business associates? I heard your company recently received some mysterious investment."
Devon released my arm and stepped back. The sudden absence of his warmth left me feeling oddly bereft. "She's not my date," he stated, his voice unnervingly calm.
My heart sank, arm falling limply to my side. The rejection stung more than it should have. For a moment, I felt utterly alone in the cold night air, abandoned once again.
Richard moved forward with renewed confidence, reaching for my elbow. "In that case, we can continue our evening."
Just as Richard's fingers were about to touch me, Devon stepped forward, one arm wrapping firmly around my waist, pulling me against him. The sudden movement surprised me, and I instinctively placed my hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat—steady but faster than usual.
"I said she's not my date," Devon's voice was low and resolute, each word carefully measured, "because Aria is my girlfriend. That's the more accurate term."
My eyes widened, and I looked up at him, unable to mask my shock. Our gazes locked, and in his eyes, I saw conflict, possessiveness, and something deeper—a flicker of vulnerability that made my breath catch. The word "girlfriend" hung between us, changing everything about our arrangement in six simple syllables.
Richard's hand slowly retreated as he processed this new information. Disbelief and embarrassment washed over his features.
"I see," he finally managed, glancing between us. "William didn't mention—"
"William doesn't know everything about his daughter's life," Devon cut in, his thumb now making small, almost unconscious circles against the fabric at my waist. The intimate gesture sent a wave of warmth through me despite the cool evening air. "Now, if you'll excuse us."