Chapter 207
Aria's POV
The elevator ascended to Devon's penthouse with silent efficiency. I stood beside him, my body still rigid with tension. Neither of us had spoken a word since that final warning in the car: "You've lied to me twice, Aria. Cherish your final chance."
My pulse hammered against my ribs as the doors opened to reveal his minimalist apartment. The floor-to-ceiling windows displayed Manhattan's glittering skyline, the city lights creating shadows across the hardwood floors. Without instruction, I walked straight to the bathroom, desperate to wash away the evening's events—Calvin's lingering looks, Devon's icy rage, my own fear.
The hot water cascaded over my skin, and I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. The bathroom door suddenly pushed open with a decisive click. Devon stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the light. His gray eyes glittered dangerously as they trailed over my wet skin.
"You don't get to hide from me," he said, his voice deceptively calm.
Before I could respond, he reached in and turned off the water. In one fluid motion, he wrapped a towel around me and lifted me out. The sensation of being carried against his chest sent an involuntary shiver through me that had nothing to do with cold.
He deposited me on the living room sofa, his movements controlled yet forceful. When he kissed me, it wasn't gentle. His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that bordered on punishment, his hands gripping my wrists above my head. I should have resisted, should have been outraged at his presumption. Instead, my body betrayed me, responding to his touch with an intensity that frightened me.
"Tell me again about your meeting with Reed," he demanded between kisses, his breath hot against my throat.
"It was just business," I gasped, knowing how hollow it sounded.
His laugh held no humor. "Your lies are getting worse."
What followed felt like Devon marking his territory, each touch a reminder that I had somehow become his. The possessiveness in his eyes should have sent me running. Yet I found myself surrendering, my resistance crumbling under the weight of something I wasn't ready to name. When exhaustion finally claimed me, the last thing I remembered was his arm wrapped firmly around my waist, anchoring me to him as though afraid I might disappear.
---
Morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows when I awoke. My body ached pleasantly, memories of the night flooding back with startling clarity. Devon was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear the faint sound of his voice from the next room, the tone clipped and authoritative as he conducted business.
My phone chirped with a notification. Calvin Reed had sent me a LinkedIn connection request. I hesitated, my finger hovering over the screen. Professional contacts were vital in my world, especially with my father undermining me at Harper Group. After a moment's consideration, I accepted.
Almost immediately, a message from Calvin appeared: Ms. Harper, I hope you arrived home safely last night. Our conversation was cut short, but I remain interested in our potential collaboration.
I glanced toward the door, ensuring Devon wasn't nearby, then typed quickly: Mr. Reed, I think it's best if we keep our discussions strictly professional. Thank you for your understanding.
As I pressed send, the hairs on my neck stood up. I turned to find Devon standing in the doorway, dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit. His expression was unreadable.
"Something fascinating on your phone?" he asked, his voice carrying an edge.
I hastily set it down. "Just work."
Devon crossed the room with predatory grace, plucking the phone from my hand before I could stop him. He glanced at the screen, then back at me, his expression softening into something more dangerous—amusement mixed with possessiveness.
"'Strictly professional,'" he read aloud, his lip curling slightly. He set the phone down and leaned close, his breath warm against my ear. "Don't think I don't know what you're thinking."
He straightened, adjusting his suit jacket with practiced ease. "I need to handle some business matters. Stay here until I return."
It wasn't a request.
"Devon, I have my own work—"
"Stay," he repeated, his voice brooking no argument. He brushed his lips against mine, a gesture that felt more like a claim than affection, then walked toward the elevator.
After he left, I showered again and borrowed one of his dress shirts, rolling up the sleeves. The penthouse was eerily quiet, and despite Marcus's offer to have lunch delivered, I felt suffocated by the silence and the lingering scent of Devon's cologne.
"Marcus," I said, finding him in the kitchen, "I'm going downstairs for lunch. I need some fresh air."
He frowned. "Mr. Kane was very specific about you staying here."
"I'll just be at the bistro across the street," I assured him. "Thirty minutes, tops."
After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "I'll inform security to keep an eye on you."
The bistro was a small, elegant place with outdoor seating that offered a view of the busy Manhattan street. I ordered a salad and iced tea, enjoying the simple pleasure of watching people rush past, each absorbed in their own lives. For a moment, I could pretend I was just another professional taking a lunch break, not a woman caught in Devon Kane's web.
I was halfway through my meal when three men in black suits approached my table. They moved with the coordinated precision of trained security personnel, and my appetite instantly vanished.
"Ms. Harper," the lead man said, his voice professionally neutral, "the madam wishes to see you."
I set down my fork carefully. "Which madam would that be?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he glanced at his watch. "We have a car waiting downstairs."
My heart raced as I quietly pressed the call button on my phone under the desk, dialing Devon's number. One of the men moved forward with surprising speed, taking the device from my hand.
"That won't be necessary," he said, pocketing my phone. "This won't take long."
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who sent you," I insisted, my voice steadier than I felt.
The lead man sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Ms. Harper, we can do this the easy way or the difficult way. Either option ends with you coming with us."
I assessed my options and found them severely limited. The penthouse had excellent security, but these men had somehow gained access. Devon wasn't expected back for hours. Marcus was nowhere to be seen.
"Fine," I said, standing slowly. "Let me get my purse."
They escorted me to a black sedan with tinted windows waiting at the curb. The lead man opened the rear door, gesturing for me to enter. As I slid into the backseat, my heart pounded so loudly I was certain they could hear it. The windows were too dark to see through, disorienting me as the car pulled away from the curb.
"Where are we going?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice level.
The man beside me smiled thinly. "Someone important wants to meet you, Ms. Harper. That's all you need to know for now."