Chapter 179
Aria's POV
The gentle sway of Devon's arms as he carried me into his penthouse felt surreal, like I was floating above myself, watching this scene unfold from a distance. My body felt impossibly heavy, yet fragile enough to shatter. The events at the cabin kept replaying in my mind—Marianne's accusations, Scarlett's smug face, the men approaching with cold intent in their eyes.
I couldn't stop my hands from trembling, even though I was now miles away from danger. The fear had burrowed deep, taking residence in my bones.
"You're safe now," Devon murmured as he carefully lowered me onto his Italian leather sofa. His eyes scanned me with clinical precision, cataloging every bruise, every mark. "What do you need?"
I looked down at the vicious red marks carved into my wrists by the ropes, unable to suppress a shiver. Devon noticed where my gaze had fallen—his jaw tightened instantly, and a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. "I'll take care of everything," he said in a low voice, "everyone involved will pay for this."
"Thank you for coming for me," I whispered, wincing as blood rushed back into my hands. "I didn't think anyone would find me there."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "If you really want to thank me, Aria, you could do something more practical than words." The suggestion hung in the air, loaded with his usual sexual innuendo, but his eyes betrayed his real concern.
I stood under the shower spray, letting scalding water cascade over my skin. One hour had passed. Then almost two. I scrubbed until my skin was raw and pink, but I couldn't wash away the feeling of violation. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those men approaching, felt the terror of helplessness returning.
I barely registered the knock on the bathroom door, or the lack of response that followed. It wasn't until the shower door slid open that I realized Devon had entered. He stood there, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, expression unreadable as he took in my obsessive cleaning.
"That's enough," he said firmly, reaching past me to turn off the water. His hand caught my wrist as I tried to turn it back on, his grip gentle but immovable. "You're hurting yourself."
I looked down at my reddened skin, suddenly aware of the pain I'd been inflicting. Devon wrapped a plush bathrobe around my shoulders, the soft material a stark contrast to the rough ropes that had bound me hours earlier.
"You're safe here," he repeated, guiding me out of the shower. "Nobody can reach you in my home."
"Marianne will try again," I said, my voice hollow. "You didn't see her face. She blames me for what happened to Ethan. She thinks I orchestrated everything."
Devon's expression hardened. "Marianne Blake should worry about herself, not you."
"You don't understand. I've seen what she does to Ethan's unfaithful lovers. She destroys them." I shivered despite the steam filling the room.
He tilted his head slightly. "Disappointed your little adventure was cut short? Was the danger exciting for you, Aria?"
I stared at him, incredulous. Even now, he couldn't help misunderstanding me.
---
I woke screaming, thrashing against invisible restraints. The nightmare had been so vivid—ropes cutting into my skin, Scarlett's laughter echoing as those men approached me. My heart hammered against my ribs as I tried to orient myself in the unfamiliar darkness.
The door opened, and Devon's silhouette appeared. He crossed the guest room in a few long strides, settling on the edge of the bed.
"Just a dream," he said, his voice low and steady. His fingers brushed through my hair, an unexpectedly tender gesture from someone who typically maintained such rigid control.
I caught my breath, embarrassment washing over me. "I'm sorry for waking you."
"I wasn't asleep." There was something resigned in his admission, a familiar weariness that I'd begun to recognize as his perpetual companion.
As my breathing slowed, I became acutely aware of his proximity, of the subtle scent of his cologne mingling with the clean cotton of his t-shirt. In my half-conscious state, I reached for his arm, my fingers curling around his wrist.
"Stay," I whispered, surprising myself with the request. "Please."
Devon hesitated, tension radiating from his body. Then, with careful movements, he stretched out beside me on the bed. His arm wrapped around my waist, maintaining a respectful distance while still providing the anchor I desperately needed. I could feel the heat of him against my back, the steady rhythm of his breathing gradually syncing with mine.
I felt the moment desire coursed through him, his body betraying what his actions concealed. But he didn't act on it, choosing instead to simply hold me as I drifted back toward sleep.
---
Morning light filtered through unfamiliar curtains when I woke. The space beside me was empty, the sheets cold. On the chair nearby lay a stack of new clothes—my size, my preferred style. Devon's silent efficiency at work again.
Downstairs, I found him with Marcus, heads bent over documents at the kitchen island. Devon looked up briefly, acknowledging me with a curt nod before returning to his work. Whatever warmth he'd shown last night had been carefully packed away, replaced by his usual businesslike demeanor.
"I should go," I said, tugging at the hem of the borrowed sweater. "Thank you for... everything."
Devon didn't look up. "Marcus will drive you home."
I swallowed my disappointment at his dismissal. "Of course."
In the elevator, Marcus cleared his throat. "Mr. Kane was quite concerned when you disappeared," he said, his professional tone belied by the significance of his words. "He had Ms. Blake at gunpoint, threatening that if anything happened to you, her son would pay the ultimate price."
I blinked, trying to process this information. "He did that?"
Marcus's lips quirked into an almost-smile. "He can be... intense when something matters to him, Mrs. Kane."
"I'm not Mrs. Kane," I corrected sharply, though the title sent an unexpected flutter through my chest.
"My mistake," Marcus replied, though his expression suggested it was anything but.
As the car pulled away from Devon's building, I sent him a text: "Thank you for rescuing me, and for last night."
My phone remained silent all the way home, no reply forthcoming. Yet somehow, I could still feel the phantom warmth of his arms around me, keeping the nightmares at bay.