Chapter 31
Aria’s POV
Ethan's face lit up immediately, and I felt a small twinge of satisfaction knowing what was coming.
"Great!" he exclaimed, taking my hand. "My car's right outside."
As we said our goodbyes to our parents on the sidewalk outside Le Bernardin, I caught my father's approving nod. He thought he'd won, that I was falling back in line with his grand plans. If only he knew what I was really thinking.
Ethan guided me to his sleek silver Mercedes convertible, opening the door with exaggerated chivalry. Once behind the wheel, he transformed into an excited teenager, gunning the engine and pulling into traffic with a jerk that had me grabbing the dashboard.
"Jesus, Ethan! Slow down," I snapped, hastily fastening my seatbelt.
He laughed, accelerating even more as he weaved through traffic. "Come on, Aria. Live a little! I'm just excited to have you back."
"I'm not 'back,'" I said under my breath, but he was too busy racing between lanes to hear me.
Fifth Avenue appeared ahead of us, its gleaming storefronts promising luxury and excess. Ethan took a corner too fast, making my stomach lurch.
"I can't wait to spoil you," he announced, glancing over at me with a self-satisfied smile. "Now that you've agreed to be my fiancée again, we should celebrate properly. Buy you something nice—clothes, jewelry, whatever you want." His smile widened. "You're going to be Mrs. Blake soon. Might as well start enjoying the perks."
The words "Mrs. Blake" felt like acid on my tongue, but suddenly, I had an idea—the perfect way to teach Ethan a lesson.
"You're right," I said sweetly. "I should start enjoying the perks."
Ethan looked pleased with himself as he handed his keys to the valet at one of Fifth Avenue's most exclusive shopping centers. "That's my girl. Let's go wild today."
I slipped my arm through his, my smile now genuine—though not for the reasons he imagined. "Let's start with Chanel," I suggested. "I could use a new handbag."
The Chanel boutique greeted us with its signature black and white decor, the air perfumed with No. 5. A sales associate approached immediately, her expression brightening when Ethan introduced himself as Ethan Blake.
"We're celebrating our engagement," he announced proudly. "Show my fiancée your finest bags."
I spent the next forty-five minutes trying on increasingly expensive handbags, finally selecting a limited-edition alligator Classic Flap that cost more than some people's annual salary. Ethan's smile tightened as he handed over his credit card, but he maintained his composure.
"Nothing but the best for my future wife," he declared loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Next came Gucci, where I selected two dresses and a leather jacket. Then Prada for a coat and boots. At each store, Ethan's smile grew more strained, though he continued to insist that nothing was too good for his bride-to-be. I watched with clinical detachment as beads of sweat formed on his forehead when each total was announced.
By our fourth store, Ethan was checking his watch frequently. "Maybe we should take a break? Get some coffee?"
"Just one more stop," I insisted, steering him toward Tiffany & Co. "We should look at engagement rings, don't you think? If there's going to be an announcement in the Times, I should have something spectacular to show off."
The color drained from Ethan's face, but he nodded stiffly. "Of course. Lead the way."
The Tiffany showroom was busy with tourists and serious shoppers alike, but we were immediately whisked to a private viewing area when Ethan mentioned engagement rings.
"What did you have in mind?" asked the elegantly dressed consultant.
I smiled sweetly at Ethan. "Something befitting a Blake bride. Only the best, right, darling?"
Ethan nodded, tugging at his collar. "Absolutely."
"In that case," I turned to the consultant, "I'd like to see your finest pieces."
The woman's eyes lit up as she excused herself to retrieve some options. Ethan leaned close to me.
"Aria," he whispered urgently, "maybe we should discuss budget beforehand? These places can be—"
"Budget?" I interrupted, loud enough for nearby customers to hear. "But you said nothing was too good for your future wife. Were you just saying that?"
Ethan flushed, trapped by his own bravado. "No, of course not. I just meant—"
"Here we are," the consultant returned, placing a velvet tray before us with five exquisite rings. "These are some of our most exceptional pieces."
I immediately pointed to the largest, a stunning sapphire surrounded by diamonds that caught the light like blue fire. "This one. May I try it?"
As the consultant slid it onto my finger, I heard Ethan's sharp intake of breath.
"It's beautiful," I murmured, turning my hand to watch the stones sparkle. "Don't you think so, Ethan?"
He swallowed hard. "It's... magnificent. But perhaps not quite your style? The design is a bit... conventional."
I recognized the evasion for what it was—an attempt to steer me toward something less expensive without admitting he couldn't afford it.
"You're right," I said, surprising him. "Let me see that one instead." I pointed to an even more elaborate piece with a price tag that would buy a small apartment in Brooklyn.
As the consultant retrieved it, I caught a glimpse of movement in the store's mirrored wall. A figure partially concealed behind a display column was watching us. The flash of blonde hair was unmistakable.
Scarlett.
My stomach tightened with anger and disgust. Was she following us? Spying for Victoria or my father? Or was she here for Ethan?
I needed to find out.
"Actually," I said abruptly, rising from my seat, "would you excuse me for a moment? I need to use the restroom."
Ethan looked relieved at the reprieve. "Take your time."
Instead of heading to the restroom, I slipped around a display case and positioned myself behind a tall jewelry armoire where I could observe without being seen. I pulled out my phone and opened the camera app, ready to record whatever was about to happen.
Sure enough, the moment I was out of sight, Scarlett emerged from her hiding place and approached Ethan. Her face was a mask of practiced distress, eyes wide and lips trembling slightly. She was wearing a pale pink sundress that made her look younger and more innocent than her twenty-two years.
"Ethan," she said in a stage whisper that carried to where I stood.
Ethan's head snapped up, his expression cycling through shock, alarm, and finally settling on annoyance. "What are you doing here?" he hissed, glancing around nervously.