Chapter 118
Aria's POV
I asked a female police officer for a medicine box and carefully dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton ball against Jeremy's split lip, trying to keep my hand steady. He winced slightly, but his green-gray eyes never left my face. The police station's first aid room was quiet except for the distant sounds of ringing phones and officers chatting.
"If I hadn't insisted on going to that house, you wouldn't have gotten hurt," I said, guilt threading through my voice. The image of Jeremy taking down Rex's men with practiced efficiency still played in my mind.
Jeremy suddenly caught my wrist, his gaze intensifying. "You really don't remember me, do you, Aria?"
I paused, confused. A small crease formed between my brows as I searched his face for familiarity. "We've met before?"
A flicker of disappointment crossed his face before his lips curved into a bitter smile. "Guess I wasn't memorable enough."
Before I could press for details, a familiar voice echoed down the hallway.
"Jeremy!" Noah's authoritative tone bounced off the walls.
I instinctively pulled my hand away from Jeremy, hiding the cotton ball behind my back. My pulse quickened as Noah strode in, his tailored suit unwrinkled despite the late hour. Devon followed behind him, his gray eyes sweeping over the distance between Jeremy and me. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and something cold settled in his gaze that made my stomach knot.
"I'm sorry," I said, standing up. "This is my fault. Jeremy was just helping me."
Noah completely ignored me, turning to Jeremy instead. "You shouldn't have acted on your own."
Jeremy's expression darkened. "I was doing my job."
Noah scoffed. "Does your 'job' include fighting now?"
Jeremy looked directly at me. "You forgetting me is something I'm not happy about."
Noah grabbed Jeremy's arm. "Enough. We're leaving." As they walked out, Jeremy cast one last look at me, his eyes filled with unspoken words.
I stood there, feeling strangely bereft, until Devon's cold voice broke the silence.
"Are you planning to spend the night at the police station?" Each word fell like a stone, deliberate and heavy.
I wanted to explain about Jeremy, to clear the tension I could feel radiating from Devon, but the words died on my lips as he turned toward the exit without waiting for my response. I hurried after him, frustration building in my chest.
Inside his Maybach, the scent of leather and sandalwood enveloped me. Devon stared straight ahead, his profile sharp in the passing streetlights. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles almost white.
"Jeremy is just an architect I hired," I said, breaking the silence. My voice sounded smaller than I intended.
Devon's gaze remained fixed on the road. "He seems to think there's more to your relationship." The edge in his voice cut through the quiet car interior.
"We might have met before." My answer sounded hollow even to my ears. I glanced at Devon's profile, searching for any sign that my words had reached him.
Devon didn't respond. Instead, he pulled out his phone and began scrolling through emails, each swipe of his finger dismissing my presence. Manhattan's lights flickered beyond the window, illuminating the invisible wall between us. I turned away, swallowing the hurt that rose unexpectedly in my throat.
---
When we arrived at his apartment, Devon exited the car without waiting for me. His shoulders were stiff, his movements clipped.
"Is Mr. Kane in a bad mood?" I whispered to Marcus.
Marcus gave me a sympathetic glance and shook his head in a "you're on your own" gesture, his eyes communicating what words couldn't.
In the elevator, my heart raced inexplicably. I couldn't read Devon's mood, and the silence felt oppressive. I stole glances at him, noting how his eyes stared unseeing at the floor numbers, how his jaw worked as if he was grinding his teeth. When we reached the penthouse, the housekeeper greeted me with a practiced smile.
"Ms. Harper, Mr. Kane is waiting for you in the master bedroom."
I walked slowly down the hallway, each step feeling heavy. The Manhattan skyline spread out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the space in moonlight. Devon stood by the window, his silhouette sharp and unyielding. His reflection in the glass showed eyes darker than usual, filled with emotions I couldn't name.
"Go shower," he commanded without turning around, his voice low but trembling slightly with restrained feeling.
I entered the spacious marble bathroom, slowly removing my clothes, still feeling the tension from the police station clinging to my skin. My hands shook slightly as I turned on the water, my mind replaying Devon's coldness, the hurt I'd seen flash briefly in his eyes.
The warm water had barely touched my body when the bathroom door opened. Devon stood there, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms. His eyes were intense, almost vulnerable for a moment before hardening again.
I instinctively crossed my arms over my chest, water droplets sliding down my collarbone. A flush crept up my neck that had nothing to do with the shower's warmth.
"Now you're pretending to be shy?" Devon's words were bitter, his eyes tracking the movement of my arms. "You seemed quite comfortable with someone else."
He forcefully moved my arms apart, his long fingers gripping my chin. I could feel the slight tremor in his touch, belying his controlled expression. "What is Jeremy to you?"
I felt the heat of his palm against my skin, saw the muscle in his cheek twitch with tension. "Devon, I need to finish showering first." My voice was steadier than I felt.
Suddenly, he lifted me up and placed me on the vanity counter. The cold marble against my bare skin made me gasp. Devon's eyes darkened at the sound, his pupils dilating.
"I like that sound," Devon whispered against my ear, his voice deep and raw with emotion. "Much better than the way you talk to other men." His lips found my neck, possessive and unyielding. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.
As his hands traced patterns on my damp skin, I tried to remember why I should resist. But when his mouth claimed mine, all thoughts scattered. I felt myself responding, my hands finding their way to his hair, my body arching toward his.
"Mine," he murmured against my lips, the word both a question and a statement. His eyes searched mine, showing a flash of insecurity that disappeared as quickly as it came.