Chapter 124
Aria's POV
Devon had been gone for nearly an hour, but I remained curled into a tight ball on his bed, afraid to move. When I finally uncurled my limbs, every muscle protested. The soreness was a vivid reminder of last night—of Devon's hands, his mouth, the intensity with which he'd claimed me after rescuing me from Eden.
I surveyed the multi-million-dollar penthouse around me. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Manhattan's skyline bathed in morning light, the Italian marble floors gleamed cold and pristine, and the minimalist furniture spoke of wealth that didn't need to announce itself. The entire space felt like Devon—beautiful, controlled, and completely untouchable.
Wincing slightly, I made my way to the master bathroom. The mirror reflected back evidence of our night together—marks on my neck, my collarbone, my inner thighs. I should have felt nothing but shame, yet beneath that familiar emotion lurked something else—a traitorous satisfaction.
"What the hell are you doing?" I whispered to my reflection. "Devon Kane is dangerous. He's possessive, controlling, unpredictable." I touched one of the marks on my neck, a shiver running through me that wasn't entirely from fear. "What does he think you are? Some doll he can position however he wants?"
I turned on the shower, letting scalding water wash over me as if it could cleanse away not just last night but the confusion growing inside me. The water couldn't wash away the truth, though—I was being pulled deeper into Devon's orbit, and the terrifying part was that some hidden part of me didn't want to escape.
Wrapped in a plush robe, I returned to the bedroom and sat by the window. Manhattan's skyscrapers loomed like giants, indifferent to my predicament. Devon was more complicated than I had initially thought. He'd saved me from Richard last night at Eden, but he was also the one who had put me in that position in the first place.
"This whole situation is toxic," I murmured, recalling Devon's expression when he'd pulled Richard away from me—rage mixed with something almost protective. There had been a vulnerability to him when he slept this morning, his face peaceful and boyish, so different from the cold mask he wore when awake. I hated how my heart had softened at that sight, how I'd resisted the urge to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.
I shook my head firmly. "Men like Devon—controlling personalities who arrange everything to their liking—they don't change. I can't become someone's accessory again." Yet even as I spoke the words, I felt the pull of his gravity, the way my body still hummed from his touch. I was terrified not just of Devon, but of my own response to him.
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The doorbell's discreet chime interrupted my thoughts. I checked that the robe was securely tied before answering.
A uniformed woman with a gentle smile stood outside, pushing an elegant serving cart. "Miss Harper, I've brought your breakfast and suitable attire for the day."
She wheeled the cart into the apartment and lifted silver domes to reveal a spread worthy of a five-star hotel—freshly baked croissants, organic scrambled eggs, a seasonal fruit platter, and premium coffee in a thermal carafe. Beside the food sat a sophisticated business outfit and stilettos—both designer, both exactly my size.
"Mr. Kane specifically requested these items for you," she explained, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the blazer. "If you need anything else, please call the concierge directly. I'm Marisa, and I'll be available all day for any request."
I thanked her politely, already calculating how quickly I could leave. As soon as she departed, I sat before the elaborate breakfast, but each bite tasted like nothing. My eyes kept returning to the outfit—perfectly tailored to my body. His attention to detail was unnerving—from knowing my size to anticipating my needs at Eden and now.
"This isn't right," I said, setting down my fork with finality.
As a woman who'd built her company from the ground up after Princeton, I knew the value of independence. No matter how luxurious the lifestyle Devon offered, no matter how beneficial the business connection might be, I couldn't surrender control of my life to him or anyone else. And yet, something in me ached at the thought of walking away from him completely, a longing I wasn't ready to acknowledge.
I quickly changed into the clothes he'd provided—reluctantly accepting the "gift" because I had no alternative at the moment. They fit perfectly, of course. I applied minimal makeup, gathered my belongings into my handbag, and squared my shoulders. With determined steps, I headed for the private elevator that would take me away from this beautiful prison, even as part of me wanted to stay until Devon returned.
The elevator doors slid open, but my escape route wasn't clear. A man stood inside—someone with features similar to Devon's but with a completely different energy. A scar ran from the corner of his right eye down to his jaw, giving him a dangerous, enigmatic appearance. He wore casual designer clothes with practiced nonchalance and was flipping a gold coin between his fingers.
"Ah, the little bird trying to fly away?" His smile sent a chill down my spine despite the warmth in his voice. "You must be Aria Harper. I'm Connor Kane, Devon's second brother."
He appraised me openly, his gaze traveling from my face down to my shoes and back up again. "My brother always did have excellent taste."
I kept my expression neutral. "Mr. Kane, please step aside. I need to leave."
Connor leaned against the elevator doorframe, effectively blocking my exit. "What's the rush? Since Devon isn't around, why not let me entertain you instead?"
His gaze raked over my body without any pretense of decency. "Girls from ordinary backgrounds are always... more appreciative of opportunities. I promise I'm much more fun than Devon."