Chapter 159
Aria’s POV
The mention of business snapped me back to reality. I followed him to the breakfast area, where a spread of fresh fruit, pastries, and coffee awaited. Devon watched me settle into a chair, still wrapped in his sheet. His gaze lingered on the birthmark on my collarbone, briefly visible before I adjusted the fabric.
"I need to see returns, Aria," he said, cutting into a steak with precision. His tone shifted to something cooler, more controlled. "On my investment in your company and in you. The returns should be proportional."
I sipped my coffee to hide my nervousness. The way he separated business and pleasure with such ease always unsettled me. "I've prepared a comprehensive transformation plan for Stellar Impressions. We're pivoting toward luxury clientele and expanding digital offerings."
"And when do I get to see this plan?" His gray eyes locked onto mine, calculating and cold, all traces of the earlier warmth gone.
"Today. I'll send it before noon."
"Good." He cut another piece of steak, his movements deliberate and controlled. "I hope you won't disappoint me."
The weight of his expectations settled on my shoulders. Devon wasn't just my lover; he was my company's most significant investor. Disappointing him would have consequences beyond our bedroom arrangement. I felt a twinge of anxiety at how dependent I'd become on his approval.
"I never break my promises, Devon." My voice came out steadier than I felt.
A knock at the door interrupted us. Marcus, Devon's chief assistant, entered with a file folder, his expression professionally blank despite my obvious state of undress.
"The investigation results, sir."
Devon nodded, taking the folder. "Wait in my study."
I watched Devon's jaw tighten as he flipped through the pages of the report. His knuckles whitened around his coffee mug, and the muscle in his cheek twitched slightly—a telltale sign of his controlled anger that I'd come to recognize. Whatever was in that folder had infuriated him.
"Problem?" I asked, my voice softer than I'd intended. Despite myself, I felt concerned.
"My brother Connor," he replied, his voice dangerously calm. "He paid a woman to approach me at the charity gala last week. Her perfume contained pheromone enhancers. The goal was to get her pregnant with a Kane heir."
My stomach dropped, then lifted with unexpected relief. The perfume I'd smelled in his car yesterday—it hadn't been from some lover after all. The realization sent a wave of lightness through me that I immediately tried to suppress. Why should I care who else he was with?
"That's... diabolical," I said quietly, fingers tightening around my coffee cup to hide their slight trembling. I was more affected by this revelation than I wanted to admit.
"It's family business," he replied coldly. I felt myself instinctively draw back at his tone, shoulders tensing. This was the Devon Kane the business world feared—calculating, merciless, and utterly in control.
Devon rose from the table and walked to his study where Marcus waited. I couldn't hear his instructions clearly, but caught fragments: "Send her back to Connor" and "front-page headline gift." The icy determination in his voice sent a chill through me.
Marcus nodded and left, while Devon turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating his profile. For a moment, I saw something almost vulnerable in his stance—a brief crack in the armor—before he straightened his shoulders and turned back to me, all business once more.
"You should get dressed," he said, his voice neutral again. "I had Marcus bring some of your clothes from your apartment. They're in the guest bathroom."
I nodded, surprised by his thoughtfulness even in the midst of his anger. As I headed to the bathroom, I couldn't help but wonder about the complex man I was becoming increasingly entangled with—and why the knowledge that there wasn't another woman had brought me such profound relief.
---
An hour later, I arrived at Harper Group, thoughts of Devon still lingering. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't shake the memory of his intense gaze or the way his fingers had brushed mine when handing me coffee. The fact that I was thinking about him at all frustrated me—I needed to focus on cementing my new position today.
Approaching my office, I stopped short at the doorway, a cold feeling spreading through my chest at the scene inside.
Papers lay scattered across the floor, desk drawers pulled open, my computer monitor pushed aside. It looked like someone had ransacked the place with purpose. My breath caught as I realized what this meant—someone was already moving against me.
"Oh my God, sister, what happened to your office?" Scarlett appeared behind me, her voice dripping with fake concern that barely concealed her delight. "Perhaps the cleaning staff was too enthusiastic?"
I turned slowly, meeting her smug expression. Her eyes glittered with satisfaction, and I noticed how she struggled to suppress a smile. My anger rose, but I kept my voice steady.
"Thank you for your concern, Scarlett. Though I'm curious—did you come to the office this early just to check on your handiwork?"
Her smile faltered slightly, a flash of uncertainty crossing her face. "I don't know what you mean."
"Of course you don't." I stepped over the mess and entered the office, my mind already cataloging what might be missing. "Security," I called to the man hovering nearby, "I need to speak with the head of security immediately."
Scarlett disappeared as the security chief arrived, a stocky man with a military bearing.
"Ms. Harper, the surveillance system was deliberately disabled at 3:15 AM," he reported grimly. "Someone professional breached our security."
I quickly sorted through the scattered papers, my concern growing with each missing file. "All the financial documents are missing—along with my records of company vulnerabilities." My voice remained steady despite my racing heart and the sick feeling in my stomach. "I need to know who did this before the end of business today. Check every entry log, review all backup cameras."
Throughout the day, I tried to focus on work, but my mind kept returning to the break-in. Who would have access, knowledge, and motivation? The obvious answer made my skin crawl.
By evening, the security chief knocked on my temporary office door. "Ms. Harper, we found something." He opened his tablet, playing a grainy video. "This is from a street camera outside the building. The face isn't clear enough, but this figure—"
I stared at the shadowy figure skulking near the service entrance, moving with suspicious familiarity. The silhouette seemed oddly recognizable—the way they walked, the slight tilt of the head. My heart sank as pieces fell into place.
"How interesting," I murmured, a cold certainty forming in my gut. This wasn't just about business competition; this was personal.