Chapter 25
Aria’s POV
The subtext was clear. This wasn't about Stellar Impressions' capabilities—it was about me personally failing to fulfill my end of our arrangement.
"Fine," I said, my heart pounding. "What would it take to reinstate the contract? It's important to my company—to my employees."
Devon leaned back in his chair, studying me. "Show me you take our agreements seriously. Demonstrate your... commitment."
The way he emphasized the last word made my skin flush. I knew exactly what he was asking for.
"Here? Now?" I glanced nervously toward the door.
"Don't be ridiculous," Devon replied, standing. "I'm leaving for the evening. If you're truly interested in salvaging this partnership, you know where to find me."
He brushed past me, his cologne lingering in the air as he walked out.
I stood frozen for a moment, then rushed after him. By the time I reached the elevator bank, Devon was already stepping into a private elevator. I quickened my pace, catching the doors just before they closed.
Devon raised an eyebrow as I slipped inside. "Determined, aren't you?"
Instead of answering, I pressed my body against his, rising on my tiptoes to kiss him. For a moment, he remained still, unresponsive. Then his hands gripped my waist, pushing me against the elevator wall as he deepened the kiss.
The elevator descended to the underground parking garage without stopping, giving us privacy that Devon immediately took advantage of. His hands roamed my body with possessive urgency, as if making up for last night's missed opportunity.
When the doors opened to the empty garage, Devon pulled away, his breathing slightly uneven. "My car. Now."
I followed him to a sleek black Aston Martin, my legs unsteady. The moment we were inside, Devon's hand found my thigh, sliding beneath my skirt as he drove out of the garage with practiced ease.
The drive to his apartment passed in a blur of anticipation and nervous energy. Devon kept one hand on me the entire time, his touch proprietary and confident. By the time we arrived at his building—one of those ultra-luxury skyscrapers that dominated the Manhattan skyline—I was practically vibrating with tension.
The private elevator to his penthouse required a fingerprint scan. As soon as the doors closed, Devon pinned me against the wall, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that left no doubt about his intentions.
We stumbled into his apartment still tangled together, shedding clothing as we moved through the entryway. I had just enough presence of mind to register the breathtaking space around me—soaring ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing panoramic city views, and furnishings that screamed tasteful wealth.
I'd grown up in Upper East Side luxury and moved through New York's elite circles my entire life, but Devon's penthouse was on another level entirely. The Harper family fortune, while substantial, couldn't compete with this.
As Devon led me toward his bedroom, I noticed a tea set displayed on a glass coffee table—Nordic nobility porcelain with gold inlay that I recognized from an auction months ago. That set alone had sold for over a million dollars.
I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the vast wealth gap between us. Devon Kane wasn't just rich; he was in a stratosphere of wealth that even most of the upper class couldn't fathom.
In his bedroom, Devon finally paused, his eyes traveling slowly over my partially undressed form. "When are you going to start showing me your sincerity, Ms. Harper?"
I stepped forward, my fingers working at his shirt buttons. He allowed me to undress him, his eyes never leaving mine. When I reached for his belt, he caught my wrists.
"Not yet," he said, his voice low. "Show me how much you want this contract."
Understanding what he meant, I leaned in to kiss him again, my hands exploring his bare chest. He remained passive, allowing me to take the lead but not responding with the same enthusiasm.
After several minutes of this one-sided interaction, Devon pulled back slightly. "Is that all?"
Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized he expected more—much more. Without another word, I sank to my knees, looking up at him with a mixture of defiance and surrender.
What followed was a thorough demonstration of exactly how far I was willing to go to save my company. Devon's fingers tangled in my hair, guiding my movements and occasionally murmuring directions that made me blush despite my compromised position.
When he'd had enough of that particular activity, he pulled me to my feet and efficiently stripped away the last of my clothing. "On the bed," he commanded, his voice husky.
I complied, watching as he removed the rest of his clothes. His body was just as impressive as I remembered—all lean muscle and tanned skin, with not an ounce of excess anywhere.
"Now," he said, joining me on the bed, "you're going to show me just how sincere you are about wanting this contract reinstated."
He positioned himself against the headboard and pulled me on top of him. "Your show, Ms. Harper. Convince me."
Swallowing my pride, I began to move, setting a rhythm that soon had my breath coming in short gasps. Devon watched me with those intense gray eyes, his hands resting lightly on my hips but not helping.
"Is that the best you can do?" he asked after a few minutes, a hint of amusement in his voice.
I increased my efforts, but soon my thighs were trembling with exertion. I wasn't used to this position taking the lead, and my stamina was flagging.
Devon laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Haven't been eating properly, Ms. Harper? Or perhaps you need more cardio in your fitness routine?"
Before I could formulate a retort, he flipped our positions in one smooth motion, pinning me beneath him.
"Allow me to demonstrate proper technique," he murmured, then proceeded to set a pace that had me gasping and clutching at his shoulders.