Chapter 231
Aria's POV
Devon and Noah walked toward our table. "What a coincidence, running into you here, Aria," Devon said, his voice deceptively casual though his eyes were anything but.
I tensed, painfully aware of how this must look—dining with Jeremy in a cozy seafood shack after I'd seen the news about Devon's engagement to Mandy Stevens. The engagement announcement that had appeared on my phone earlier today, blindsiding me completely during our client meeting.
Noah's cold gaze slid to Jeremy. "Jeremy, Mother has been looking for you. You should go home."
Jeremy shifted uncomfortably beside me, setting down his fork. He was clearly reluctant to leave, though I couldn't blame him—the tension between the brothers was palpable, electric in its intensity.
"I'll go when I'm ready," Jeremy replied, though his fingers nervously tapped against his silverware. There was history here I didn't understand, something beyond professional rivalry.
I rose gracefully from my chair, determined not to show how Devon's presence affected me. My heart was racing, but I kept my expression neutral. "We were just finishing up. The table is all yours."
Devon raised an eyebrow, his gray eyes scanning my face with unsettling intensity. "Leaving so soon? We just arrived."
Noah forcefully pulled Jeremy to his feet. "Come on, brother. Family matters are more important than entertaining clients."
I caught the emphasis on "clients" and felt a flush of indignation. Was that all Devon had told his friend I was? A client?
As I gathered my purse, Devon's eyes never left mine, their gray depths unreadable. I turned to leave, my heart pounding traitorously in my chest despite my best efforts to appear unaffected.
Outside the seafood shack, the evening air was cool against my skin. I had taken only a few steps when strong fingers wrapped around my wrist. Devon had followed me out.
"You're not properly introduced to my friend yet," he said, his grip tightening just enough to make it impossible to pull away without creating a scene.
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Kane," I replied, attempting to reclaim my arm. "I believe our relationship doesn't require such social niceties."
Devon leaned closer, his warm breath tickling my ear as his voice dropped to a whisper. "That's not what you said last night, Aria."
Heat flooded my cheeks at the memory. Before I could respond, he pulled me toward a black sedan waiting at the curb. "Get in."
"I'm perfectly capable of getting home on my own," I protested, but Devon was already opening the door and ushering me inside with surprising strength, his hand at the small of my back both commanding and somehow intimate.
Once we were both in the back seat, Devon knocked on the partition, and the car pulled smoothly into traffic. The interior smelled of expensive leather and his signature cologne, a scent that had become dangerously familiar to me.
"Suddenly avoiding me?" Devon's voice was dangerously soft, a silken threat wrapped in casual inquiry.
I stared straight ahead, watching the lights of Manhattan blur past the window. "I'm simply respecting your private life, Mr. Kane. Congratulations on your engagement."
Devon let out a cold laugh that contained no humor. "So you're throwing a tantrum."
"I have no standing to throw tantrums," I said, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. "We're business partners, nothing more."
Devon's eyes darkened, the gray turning almost black in the dim car interior. Without warning, he leaned forward and instructed his driver to speed up. The car lurched forward, forcing me to grab the armrest to steady myself.
"What are you doing?" I asked, but Devon merely settled back into his seat, watching me with that maddening unreadable expression.
When the car finally stopped, I realized we were in the underground garage of Devon's building. I immediately reached for the door handle, desperate to escape the confining space and his overwhelming presence.
"Thank you for the ride. I'll call a car to take me back to Brooklyn."
Devon blocked my exit, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. "Where do you think you're going? Our conversation isn't finished."
"I want to go to my apartment," I insisted, trying to move past him, acutely aware of how close we were, how the scent of him was making it difficult to think clearly.
In one fluid motion, Devon lifted me over his shoulder. "I said, our conversation isn't finished."
"This is outrageous!" I struggled against his grip, my fists pounding ineffectually against his back. A sharp pain shot through my shoulder where the bullet wound from Miami was still healing, making me gasp. The sudden movement had aggravated the tender tissue, reminding me that I wasn't fully recovered yet.
"Put me down! You can't just—" I winced as another wave of pain radiated from my shoulder.
"I can," he interrupted, his voice calm as if he carried struggling women through his garage every day. "And I am."
Devon carried me to the private elevator as if I weighed nothing. My protests echoed in the concrete garage, but no one came to my rescue. The security cameras would show this, I realized with a flash of mortification. How many of his staff would see this footage?
Inside his penthouse, Devon finally set me down on his bed, looming over me with an intensity that made my breath catch. In the soft lighting of his bedroom, his features seemed carved from stone, beautiful and unyielding.
"Now," he said, his voice deceptively soft, "explain your attitude today."
I straightened my blouse, trying to regain some dignity despite the fact that I was sitting on his bed, my hair disheveled from my futile struggle. I rotated my injured shoulder carefully, trying not to show how much it hurt. "I saw the news about your engagement to Mandy Stevens. Congratulations."
Devon stepped closer, his knee brushing against mine as he invaded my space. "And that's why you're avoiding me?"
"I think our arrangement should end," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "After all, I'm just your 'contract lover,' aren't I?" The term felt bitter on my tongue. "Your fiancée wouldn't appreciate this arrangement."
I stood to leave, smoothing down my skirt, desperate to escape before I revealed how much the news had actually hurt me. "I should go."
Devon's eyes flashed with anger, a storm brewing in their depths. "Only I decide when this relationship ends, Aria."
He moved swiftly to a drawer, retrieving a pair of handcuffs that glinted in the low light. Before I could react, he had secured my wrist to the bedpost.
"You always want to run away," he said, voice husky with an emotion I couldn't identify.
"You can't do this!" I tugged at the restraint, the cold metal biting into my skin. "You're engaged! I'm tired of the constant stream of women in your life—"
Devon's mouth crashed down on mine, swallowing my protest. His kiss was aggressive and demanding, possessive in a way that sent heat spiraling through my body. I tried to resist, to hold onto my anger and hurt, but my body betrayed me, responding to his touch with a familiarity that frightened me.
His hands were everywhere, stripping away not just my clothes but my defenses. Each caress was a claim, each kiss a declaration of ownership. When his fingers grazed my injured shoulder, I flinched involuntarily, but he immediately adjusted, his touch becoming surprisingly gentle over the healing wound, before returning to its demanding intensity elsewhere.
"Tell me you want me to stop," Devon whispered against my throat, his fingers working magic against my skin. "Tell me you don't want this."
I couldn't form the words. Truth was, I didn't want him to stop, despite everything. Despite the news of his engagement, despite my own better judgment. In this moment, I was his, and we both knew it.
What followed was a passionate encounter unlike any we'd shared before. Devon's possessiveness manifested in every touch, every whispered command. He claimed me with an urgency that spoke of something beyond desire, something I was afraid to name, carefully working around my injured shoulder even in his most intense moments.
Afterward, exhausted both emotionally and physically, I drifted off to sleep, Devon's arm still wrapped possessively around my waist. My last conscious thought was wondering how I would protect my heart from a man who was promised to another, yet seemed determined to keep me bound to him.
For this man who had just announced his engagement to the world had just made me feel more wanted than anyone ever had before. And that terrified me more than the handcuffs ever could.