Chapter 247
Aria’s POV
Devon's eyes narrowed, a muscle working in his jaw. "No."
"Be reasonable. This could hurt your business relationships. Your investors won't—"
"I said no." His voice was quiet but firm. "You're not leaving."
"Devon, please. I can't be responsible for damaging your reputation too."
"You think I care what these tabloids print?" His voice remained even, but his eyes when they met mine were fierce, almost desperate. "Kane Technology doesn't need scandal for publicity. And I don't need anyone's approval to keep you here."
He stood and crossed the room in three long strides. His fingers brushed against the fading bruise on my neck, his touch unexpectedly gentle despite the tension radiating from him.
"This is what matters to me." His voice dropped lower, vulnerability breaking through his controlled exterior. "Not what they write. Not what anyone thinks."
I saw it then—the fear beneath his anger. Fear of losing me. Fear that I would walk away like everyone else probably had. His controlling behavior wasn't just about power; it was about keeping safe the few people he actually cared about.
Before I could respond, he lifted me effortlessly, setting me on the edge of his desk. His body pressed against mine, trapping me between the hard wood and his frame.
"Thinking too much won't help," he murmured, his lips hovering just above mine, his breath warm against my skin. "Focus on what's real. Here. Now."
His mouth claimed mine with an intensity that spoke of more than desire—there was possession, yes, but also a desperate need to connect, to confirm I was still there with him. As I surrendered to his touch, the headlines, the scandal, my father's betrayal—all of it receded into the background.
Tomorrow would bring new crises to manage. But tonight, I would allow myself this escape.
---
I woke late the next morning, the sunlight streaming through Devon's floor-to-ceiling windows. The space beside me was empty, the sheets cold. I stretched, feeling oddly well-rested despite everything. For a few precious moments, I allowed myself to forget the nightmare my life had become.
Then reality crashed back. My father was in custody. The company was in crisis. And according to the tabloids, I was nothing more than Devon Kane's "transactional girlfriend."
I showered and dressed in clothes I'd left here on previous visits, trying not to think about how many of my things had gradually migrated to Devon's penthouse. When I descended the stairs, I found Caroline in the living room, perched elegantly on Devon's Italian leather sofa. She wore an impeccable Chanel suit, her blonde hair pulled into a perfect chignon.
"Well," she said. "It seems I've arrived just in time, darling."
Caroline Hayes sat elegantly on Devon's Italian leather sofa, her Chanel suit impeccably tailored, blonde hair pulled into a perfect chignon. I stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs, acutely aware of my sleep-rumpled appearance and the faint bruise still visible on my neck.
"Caroline," I managed, attempting to match her polished tone. "This is... unexpected."
She crossed her legs and smiled. "Devon mentioned you were staying here. I thought I'd stop by before we discuss the wedding plans." Her eyes took in my borrowed t-shirt. "Though perhaps I should have called first."
I heard Devon's voice coming from his study, along with Noah's. Though they spoke in hushed tones, the tension was unmistakable. I caught fragments about "media control" and "board interference."
"Don't worry about them," Caroline waved dismissively. "Business as usual. Come sit with me."
I reluctantly took a seat across from her, feeling suddenly defensive. "What wedding plans would involve me?"
"Why, my wedding to Noah, of course." Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
I blinked in surprise. "But Caroline...we barely know each other."
"Devon Kane finally being tamed by a woman is notable enough, but that woman also happens to be interesting in her own right." She leaned forward. "Besides, it would give the tabloids something positive to write about you, considering..." She trailed off delicately.
The unspoken reference to my father's arrest hung in the air between us. Before I could respond, Devon emerged from his study, Noah following close behind.
"Caroline," Devon acknowledged, his expression unreadable. "You're early."
"I wanted to invite Aria personally," she replied, standing gracefully. "And she's agreed to be in the wedding party."
I opened my mouth to correct her, but Devon spoke first. "We'll discuss it later. Noah and I have matters to finish."
Noah checked his watch. "We're already late for the meeting at Fifth Avenue." He gave me a brief nod before turning to Caroline. "Are you coming?"
"No, I'm taking Aria shopping." She linked her arm through mine as if we'd been friends for years. "The bridesmaids' dresses need to be fitted."
Devon's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. I recognized the slight tension in his jaw—he was restraining himself, which was rare enough to be concerning.
"Go ahead," he finally said. "Marcus will drive you."
Before I could protest, Caroline was guiding me toward the door. "Don't worry about changing," she said. "We'll find you something suitable at the boutique."
---
The exclusive bridal boutique on Fifth Avenue was exactly the sort of place where I'd normally feel comfortable—high fashion, excellent service, the subtle scent of wealth and privilege. But today, I felt exposed, aware of every glance and whispered comment from the staff.
"They're talking about the Harper scandal," Caroline observed, her voice low as she examined a rack of bridesmaid dresses. "Pay them no mind."
I smoothed down the silk of the sample dress I'd been coaxed into trying—a dusty rose A-line that complemented my skin tone perfectly. "It's fine. I'm getting used to it."
"You shouldn't have to," she replied, surprising me with her sincerity. "Here, try this one instead." She handed me a deeper rose gown with delicate beading.
While changing, I checked my phone and was startled to find that TMZ's piece on my father had been buried beneath a breaking story about a blonde starlet caught in a compromising position at Eden. I scrolled further to discover that all Harper-related hashtags had mysteriously dropped off Twitter's trending list. The media narrative had shifted overnight.
When I emerged from the dressing room, Caroline was waiting with champagne. "That's the one," she declared with satisfaction. "You'll outshine the bride."
"Hardly," I replied, glancing at my reflection. The gown was stunning but felt strange given the circumstances. "Caroline, why did you really invite me to be in your wedding?"
She guided me to a small sitting area, ensuring we were out of earshot of the attendants. "Devon called me personally to ensure you'd be treated respectfully at the wedding." She took a sip of champagne, studying me over the rim of her glass. "That's a first. He's never intervened on behalf of a woman before."
I fidgeted with the beading on my dress. "We have a business arrangement."
"Oh, please." She laughed softly. "Devon Kane doesn't make personal calls for business arrangements. He's serious about you, Aria." She leaned closer. "And I suspect you're serious about him too, whether you admit it or not."
I felt heat rising to my cheeks. "It's complicated."
"The best things usually are." She finished her champagne in one elegant swallow. "By the way, don't underestimate the Kane family's influence. The media pivot this morning wasn't an accident."
I looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"
"Let's just say Devon has significant investments in several media companies." She stood, smoothing her skirt. "Now, about the shoes..."
As Caroline moved on to discussing accessories, I found myself distracted. Had Devon really leveraged his connections to protect me from the worst of the media storm? The thought left me with a confusing mix of gratitude and unease.