Chapter 194
Aria's POV
Three simple words from Devon, yet they made my pulse quicken. I bit my lip, fingers hovering over the screen. Should I tell him about meeting Calvin Reed?
Lying seemed worse, especially if he somehow already knew. I took a deep breath and typed: "Meeting with Reed to discuss contract, at Windermere Equestrian Club in the Hamptons."
The message showed "Read" immediately, but no reply came. I watched the screen for several moments before dropping my phone into my purse with a sigh. The tiny sting of disappointment surprised me. Why did I care if he responded? This was purely business between us. I straightened my shoulders, focusing on the scenery as my driver turned onto the long driveway of the club.
Windermere was the playground of the Upper East Side elite, with manicured lawns stretching toward the horizon and thoroughbreds gleaming in the sunlight. A hostess recognized my name and swiftly led me through the main building to the VIP area overlooking the racetrack.
Calvin Reed was already there, sipping whiskey while casually watching the races. The white bandage wrapped around his head—a souvenir from our last encounter—stood out against his dark hair, though he appeared to have recovered well. His deliberately relaxed posture couldn't hide the calculation in his eyes.
"Ms. Harper, glad you could make it." He stood, gesturing to the seat across from him. I deliberately pulled the chair back, maintaining distance. He noticed my caution, his lips curving upward.
"Afraid of me?" he chuckled.
"Just maintaining professional boundaries, Mr. Reed."
"Don't worry, I'm gracious enough not to hold grudges." He pointed to his bandage, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Business is business, after all."
I kept my expression neutral, placing the contract documents on the table. "I've brought the materials you requested."
Reed ignored the paperwork, instead pointing toward the track. "See those racehorses? I propose a little game. Choose a horse. If it wins, I'll sign your contract."
I narrowed my eyes. "Gambling isn't my style, Mr. Reed."
"Not gambling, Ms. Harper—a trust exercise." He held up a racing program. "Choose."
I took the program, scanning it quickly. This was a test—he was gauging whether I'd take risks. Refusing might cost Harper Group a valuable client when we needed every one.
"Horse number eight," I finally said, pointing to a chestnut stallion.
Reed smiled, making a phone call to place a $300,000 bet on my selection. "Hope your intuition doesn't bankrupt me, Ms. Harper."
The race began, and I gripped the armrests, watching as number eight quickly surged toward the front. Each hoofbeat seemed to match my heartbeat. Reed's gaze alternated between me and the track, apparently enjoying my reaction more than the race itself.
When number eight crossed the finish line first, I finally allowed myself a smile. "Seems my intuition serves me well."
Reed nodded, reaching for the contract, but suddenly froze, his eyes fixed over my shoulder. I turned to see Devon Kane standing in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a Tom Ford suit. His posture was rigid, his gray eyes cold and intense. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Other guests turned, whispering as they recognized the tech mogul.
"Kane," Reed's tone shifted. "What a coincidence."
Devon didn't acknowledge Reed's greeting. Instead, his eyes moved between us, lingering on me a moment longer. I felt the weight of his gaze as if it were a physical touch. The air in the room seemed to thicken.
"How was your evening with that woman last night, Kane?" Reed suddenly asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
My stomach clenched, and I felt a rush of heat to my face that I desperately tried to control. I lowered my eyes to my glass, not wanting either man to see the flash of hurt that I couldn't entirely suppress. Devon didn't deny it, just stared coldly at Reed. The silence that followed was more suffocating than any words could be.
I reminded myself that Devon and I had a transactional relationship—I had no right to feel betrayed or jealous. Yet the thought of him with someone else created a hollow feeling in my chest that I struggled to ignore.
"Perhaps we should change plans," Reed broke the silence. "How about a traditional polo match? Two a side, winner takes the contract and... additional benefits."
Devon's eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. His gaze flicked to me for a moment before returning to Reed. His voice remained steady: "Arrange your people."
I stood up, needing space to gather myself. "Excuse me, I need to visit the restroom."
I practically fled to the luxurious bathroom, closing the door and bracing my hands against the marble countertop, taking deep breaths. My reflection showed a composed exterior, but my eyes revealed emotions I didn't want to name. The image of Devon with another woman kept flashing through my mind, accompanied by an unwelcome ache.
"Don't be stupid, Aria," I whispered to my reflection. "Remember your place."
My arm throbbed beneath my dress, reminding me of the real problems in my life—my father's threats, Victoria's schemes, the company's crisis. These were what I should focus on. Devon Kane was just... a business arrangement, a temporary harbor.
Yet as I reapplied my lipstick, I couldn't help but wonder if the intensity in his eyes when he saw me with Reed meant something more. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I was projecting feelings onto a man who had made it clear that emotions weren't part of our deal.
I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin, donning once again the mask of cool confidence, and pushed open the door. Whatever dangerous game awaited outside, I had to remember: in this world, no one was truly an ally—especially not Calvin Reed, and certainly not Devon Kane, no matter how much a part of me wished otherwise.
I returned from the restroom to find the atmosphere in the VIP area had shifted dramatically. Devon and Calvin were now facing each other, tension evident in their rigid postures. The other guests had formed a loose circle around them, their whispers creating an undercurrent of excitement.
"A polo match seems fitting, given our surroundings," Devon said, his voice carrying that distinctive confidence I'd grown to recognize. My pulse quickened involuntarily at his commanding tone. "Two a side, winner takes the contract."