Chapter 195
Aria's POV
Reed's eyes glinted. "And perhaps... additional benefits." His gaze flickered to me briefly.
I stiffened at being so obviously discussed as if I were merely a commodity. Yet when my eyes met Devon's, I saw a flash of possessiveness that made my breath catch. Was he actually concerned about me, or just the potential business loss?
Within minutes, staff were scrambling to prepare the private polo field. The elite crowd began placing bets, mentioning sums that would have funded Stellar Impressions for a year. I found myself gravitating toward the blue team's side—Devon's side—without consciously deciding to.
"The blue team is Kane and his regular partner," an older woman said nearby. "The red is Reed and his cousin. Smart money's on Kane—Princeton polo captain, three years running."
I watched Devon mount his horse with practiced ease, his movements revealing another layer to the man I thought I knew. The controlled power in his shoulders, the confident set of his jaw—I couldn't tear my eyes away. Despite telling myself this was just business, I wanted him to win. Needed him to win.
The match began with thundering hooves. Devon played with surprising intensity, each strike of his mallet precise and powerful. Reed matched him move for move, their competition charged with undeniable personal animosity. The ball shot between them, players weaving and cutting across the field in complex patterns.
My hands clenched into fists with each near miss, my breath catching when Devon executed a particularly difficult maneuver. I told myself my reaction was simply about securing the contract, but the lie felt hollow even to me.
"Kane just closed a tech acquisition Reed wanted," a man commented behind me. "This is about more than your contract, Ms. Harper."
The score remained tied until the final minute, when Devon executed a brilliant play, scoring the winning point. His expression remained controlled, but I noticed his eyes immediately seeking mine in the crowd. Something warm unfolded in my chest at that brief connection, before I hastily reminded myself of our arrangement's boundaries.
Reed dismounted with a tight smile. "Well played, Kane. Shall we discuss the details over lunch?" he suggested, gesturing toward the club's top-floor restaurant.
In the private dining room overlooking the Hamptons coastline, I sat between the two men, acutely aware of Devon's proximity. His cologne—subtle cedar notes—made focusing on the contract discussion increasingly difficult.
Devon's phone rang as our appetizers arrived. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening. "I need to take this," he said, rising abruptly. "It's regarding last night's incident."
The reminder of Reed's earlier comment about Devon spending the night with another woman hit me like a physical blow. An unwelcome image formed in my mind: Devon's hands on someone else's skin, his attention focused entirely on her. I forced a neutral expression, angry at myself for feeling anything at all. Our arrangement was transactional—he was free to spend his nights however he chose. So why did the thought burn so much?
After Devon left, Reed leaned forward. "Kane's quite the protector when it suits him, isn't he?"
I straightened my silverware, needing something to focus on besides the jealousy gnawing at me. "Mr. Reed, should we review the contract terms?"
"Ms. Harper," he said, ignoring my attempt to redirect, "a word of advice. Don't get attached to Devon Kane." His voice dropped lower. "The Kane family has a darkness most people never see. Devon especially."
I raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep my expression unaffected despite how accurately his words targeted my growing confusion about Devon. "My relationship with Mr. Kane is strictly professional."
Reed laughed. "That's what they all say, until they're in too deep." He studied me. "You've got backbone, Harper. I respect that." He signed the contract with a flourish, then raised his glass. "To business partnerships—the only relationships worth having in this world."
I clinked my glass against his, relief about securing the contract mingling with lingering thoughts of Devon with another woman. Reed excused himself shortly after, leaving me alone with my conflicted emotions.
Twenty minutes later, Devon returned, his expression hardening when he found only me in the room.
"Where's Reed?" he demanded, scanning the empty chairs.
"Left after signing the contract." I gathered my belongings, determined to escape before my emotions betrayed me further.
Devon blocked my path, his tall frame suddenly intimidating. "You'd rather believe Reed's bullshit than ask me even once?"
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I hadn't expected the waiter to mention that. "I was simply maintaining professional boundaries."
"Boundaries." His voice was dangerously soft, his gray eyes darkening. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
"I should go." I attempted to step around him, heart hammering against my ribs.
Devon caught my arm, his fingers warm against my skin. "I came here to help you handle Reed. He's notorious for taking advantage of new business partners."
"I don't need your help," I said, Reed's warnings echoing in my mind. I couldn't stop myself from adding, "And after last night, you're hardly in a position to play protector."
His eyes narrowed. "What about last night?"
"Reed mentioned you were... occupied. With another woman." The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I hated how revealing they were of feelings I shouldn't have.
Something dark and intense flashed across Devon's face. "And you believed him."
"It doesn't matter what I believe. Our arrangement doesn't include exclusivity." I pulled away from his grip, ignoring the hurt that statement caused me. "Now if you'll excuse me—"
"You think I'm dirty," he stated, his voice turning cold, eyes hard as steel. "That's what this is about."
"Devon—"
Without warning, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the exit. I protested, stumbling to keep pace with his long strides, but he ignored me completely. Diners turned to stare as we passed, my face burning with embarrassment and indignation.
"Let go of me," I hissed, but his grip only tightened.
Outside, his custom Maybach waited. He practically shoved me inside, climbing in after me and slamming the door.
"You don't get to judge me," he growled, his face inches from mine, eyes blazing with an emotion I couldn't name. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, taking a deep drag before forcefully turning my face toward him. "Breathe in."
I tried to turn away, but his fingers gripped my jaw firmly. When I opened my mouth to protest, he exhaled the smoke directly into my parted lips. The intimate invasion left me gasping and furious—and worst of all, undeniably affected.
"What is wrong with—"
His mouth crashed down on mine, cutting off my words. The kiss was punishment, not passion, his anger evident in every movement. I pushed against his chest, but found myself responding despite my outrage, my body betraying my mind as I kissed him back with equal intensity.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, pupils dilated with desire. "You want to call me dirty? Fine. But don't pretend you don't want this just as much as I do."
The car stopped in front of his apartment building. I refused to move, crossing my arms stubbornly, still trying to process the storm of emotions his kiss had unleashed.
Devon's laugh was low and dangerous. "Have it your way."
In one fluid motion, he lifted me over his shoulder, ignoring my indignant protests as he carried me through the lobby.