Chapter 107
Aria's POV
Devon's arms tightened around me as we exited Le Bernardin, his strides purposeful and hurried. The evening air hit my face, a stark contrast to the warmth of his chest against my cheek. His jaw was clenched tight, the muscle there twitching under perfectly smooth skin. I'd never seen him this... unsettled before.
"You don't have to carry me," I whispered, painfully aware of the curious glances from passersby. "I can walk."
"Just be quiet," he muttered, his voice a low rumble against my ear. "For once in your life, Harper, don't argue."
The pain in my wrist flared as his pace quickened, and I couldn't suppress a small whimper. "Devon, please... walk slower. It hurts."
He immediately slowed his steps, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. "If you weren't so determined to play hero, you wouldn't be in this mess."
"That was a reflex," I defended myself, wincing as another wave of pain shot through my arm. "I saw her falling and pulled her back. I didn't exactly plan to tumble down marble stairs."
Something in his expression softened, just slightly, before Marcus pulled the Bentley to the curb.
Just as Devon was about to place me in the back seat, I heard the click-clack of hurried heels behind us.
"Aria, wait!" Sophia's breathless voice called out. "I need to come with you!"
Devon cast her a cold glance, but I raised my uninjured hand to stop whatever dismissal was forming on his lips.
"Let her come," I said quietly. "This wasn't her fault."
Once inside, Sophia gently examined my arm, her face paling at the three deep scrapes and the unnatural angle of my wrist. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Aria," she whispered, her eyes glistening.
"It's fine," I lied through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. "Just a sprain, probably."
Devon's gaze flickered between us in the rearview mirror, his expression inscrutable.
The hospital lobby was all gleaming marble and crystal chandeliers, no doubt the most exclusive medical facility in Manhattan. Devon carried me straight past the line of waiting patients, their whispers following us like a wave.
"Everyone's staring," I murmured against his chest, mortified.
"Let them," he replied, approaching the front desk with the same authority he wielded in boardrooms. "I need Dr. Phillips. Now."
A distinguished man in a tailored suit appeared almost immediately. "Mr. Kane, we've prepared the VIP suite. Please, follow me."
The examining room was more like a luxury hotel suite than a hospital room. Devon reluctantly set me down on the examination table, standing back only when the doctor began to inspect my injuries.
"We'll need X-rays," Dr. Phillips announced after a thorough examination. "And possibly an MRI to rule out any soft tissue damage."
Devon nodded without hesitation. "Do whatever is necessary. Don't miss anything."
When Devon stepped out to speak with the doctor, Sophia closed the door softly behind him and turned to me, her expression curious.
"So sweet," she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips. "You two are actually dating, aren't you?"
I adjusted the hospital gown with my good hand, forcing a smile. "No... he's just my 'sponsor' right now."
Sophia's expression turned serious. "You're not doing this to get back at Ethan, are you? Because that's dangerous, Aria. Men like Devon Kane don't play games they can't win."
"It's mutually beneficial," I said flatly, though my eyes hardened at the mention of Ethan. "Love is just a tool men use to control women. I won't fall for that again."
"I worry about you," Sophia said, taking my hand. "A man like that..."
The door creaked slightly. I looked up, my words dying in my throat as I saw Devon standing in the doorway. His gray eyes, usually so controlled, now darkened with something I couldn't quite name. His shoulders tensed, his knuckles white as he gripped the doorframe. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the careful mask of indifference he tried to maintain.
My heart hammered against my ribs. How long had he been standing there? What exactly had he heard? The look in his eyes—had it been hurt before coldness replaced it? No, impossible. Men like Devon Kane didn't get hurt; they calculated losses.
"Mr. Kane," I said quickly, my voice higher than normal as I switched to my professional smile. My fingers trembled against the hospital sheet. "Thank you so much for your help."
Devon's gaze lingered on my face for three uncomfortable seconds. I watched as whatever emotion had flashed across his features disappeared, replaced by a glacial calm. His jaw locked, his shoulders straightened, and his eyes—those expressive eyes—emptied of all feeling.
"I have company matters to attend to," he said, each word perfectly spaced, perfectly controlled. "I'll be in touch later."
He turned without another word. The sound of his expensive shoes against the marble hallway seemed to punctuate his departure. Even, measured steps. Nothing betraying the emotion I'd glimpsed.
Sophia looked from me to the empty doorway, her brow furrowed. "I think he heard us," she whispered, concern etching her features. "And he didn't look happy, Aria. Not at all."
A hollow feeling spread through my chest. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore it. This was always the arrangement—a business transaction, nothing more. So why did I feel this unsettling guilt?
"It doesn't matter," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. I focused on the bandage around my wrist, avoiding Sophia's knowing gaze. "We have a contract, nothing more."
But as I said it, I couldn't help remembering the flash of what looked like genuine hurt in his eyes before the wall came down. Had Devon Kane, the man who supposedly felt nothing, actually cared about what I thought of him?
The X-ray results confirmed a minor fracture in my wrist and a hairline crack in two ribs. Dr. Phillips recommended overnight observation, citing concerns about potential concussion symptoms.
"I'll arrange everything at the company," Sophia immediately offered. "I'll stay with you."
"The Westwood proposal is due next week," I worried aloud. "And the Meridian presentation—"
"We can video conference," Sophia assured me, already pulling out her iPad. "The design team will understand."
As a nurse wrapped my wrist and wrote out prescriptions, I asked about insurance details, mentally calculating costs. Devon might have brought me here, but I wasn't about to become financially indebted to him too.
---
The next morning, I was scrolling through emails one-handed when a knock interrupted me. Owen stood in the doorway, clutching an ostentatious flower arrangement, with a sheepish-looking Chloe behind him.
"These won't cover your medical expenses or company losses," I said coldly before either could speak.
"I really didn't mean to," Chloe began, her apology contradicted by the hostility in her eyes.
"The security footage from the restaurant shows you deliberately pushing me," I replied evenly. "That's assault in a court of law."
Owen shifted uncomfortably. "I'll cover all expenses, Aria. Please don't take legal action."
"Please let me rest now," I said with polite firmness. "My lawyer will contact you about compensation."
They had barely left when Sophia arrived with breakfast and fresh juice. She passed them in the hallway, walking straight past Owen without acknowledgment, though Chloe gave her a contemptuous once-over.
"Owen," I called out as he followed Chloe, "don't forget about that compensation, or our next meeting will be in court."
After they left, Sophia asked if I would attend their engagement party. "Absolutely not," I replied without hesitation.
While Sophia unpacked breakfast, I snapped a photo of my bandaged wrist for Instagram, captioning it: "Manhattan dinner adventures... costly #BattleScars #WorthIt"
Not long after I posted, the door opened again. My father stood there, impeccably dressed as always, looking tired but authoritative.
"Why am I finding out about my daughter's injuries from Instagram?" William Harper demanded.
I met his gaze coolly. "You're such a busy man. I wouldn't want to burden you."
"Regardless, you should notify family," he said, his expression complex. "We are family, Aria."