Chapter 55
Aria’s POV
Ethan followed my gaze, his expression hardening when he spotted Devon. He quickly recovered, rising back to his full height and squaring his shoulders, though he still stood several inches shorter than Devon.
Devon entered the room with casual grace, moving as if he'd been invited. He plucked a champagne flute from a passing server and took a sip, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Don't let me interrupt," he said, his deep voice carrying across the suddenly silent room. "Please, continue with your... celebration."
Ethan cleared his throat. "Kane. I didn't realize you were on the guest list."
Devon's lips curled into what might have been a smile if not for the coldness in his eyes. "I wasn't aware I needed an invitation to Pantheon, Blake. Has your family acquired the place recently?"
His tone was polite, but the underlying challenge was unmistakable. Devon walked further into the room, positioning himself where he could easily observe both of us.
"Congratulations to the happy couple," he continued, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Though I've heard you've been quite busy at your Hamptons property as well... just a few days ago?"
I felt Ethan stiffen beside me. The reference to the Hamptons property was not lost on me—Devon was clearly hinting at Ethan's meeting with Scarlett.
"What brings you here tonight, Kane?" Ethan asked, failing to keep the tension from his voice.
Devon shrugged, the movement elegant despite its casual intent. "Just enjoying an evening out. I had no idea I'd be witnessing such a... hasty proposal."
The club manager approached, clearly sensing the tension, but Devon silenced him with a single look.
"Tell me, Blake," Devon continued conversationally, "have you shared with Ms. Harper the recent rumors about Blake Fashion's financial troubles? I heard you're desperately seeking new investors." He turned to me, his expression softening fractionally. "You deserve to know your future financial situation, don't you think?"
Ethan's face had turned an alarming shade of red. "Those are just rumors, spread by competitors. Our company is doing excellently."
"Of course," Devon nodded, unconvinced. "I'm sure Ms. Harper has done her due diligence before accepting such a significant life change."
He moved closer to me, close enough that I could smell his distinctive sandalwood, a scent that had become disturbingly familiar to me over the past weeks. "You deserve better than rushing into a bond that's more facade than substance," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Don't accept a gilded cage when you've only just begun to spread your wings."
His words sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. Why did he care? This wasn't part of our arrangement. This wasn't business. This was personal, and the realization both angered and confused me.
Ethan, clearly eager to regain control of the situation, took my hand firmly in his. "Aria, please don't let this unpleasant interruption ruin our moment." He got down on one knee, this time fully committed to the gesture, and opened the ring box. Inside was a large diamond, ostentatious and exactly what I would have wanted two years ago. Now, it just looked like an expensive trap.
"Will you marry me?" he asked, eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that spoke more of possession than love.
I felt a storm of emotions crashing within me. Devon's unexpected appearance had completely disrupted my carefully laid plans. His intervention felt like both a rescue and an intrusion. Who was he to decide what was best for me? The irritation I felt at his presumption mingled with a strange relief that someone saw through this farce.
I looked from Ethan's expectant face to Devon's inscrutable one. Making my decision, I took a deep breath and met Ethan's eyes.
"Yes," I said clearly. "I will marry you."
I held out my hand, allowing Ethan to slip the ring onto my finger, all while looking directly at Devon, a challenge in my gaze. This was my choice to make, not his.
For a moment, something raw and painful flashed across Devon's features, so quickly I might have imagined it. Then his expression settled back into its usual impassive mask, though his eyes remained cold and hard.
Ethan stood and pulled me into a kiss that felt more like a claim of ownership than an expression of love. The room erupted in applause and cheers from his friends, but all I could focus on was the weight of Devon's gaze.
When Ethan finally released me, Devon set his half-full champagne glass down on a nearby marble table with a sharp click that somehow cut through the celebratory noise.
"Congratulations," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I wish you both every happiness."
He turned to leave, and as he passed the elaborate champagne tower that Ethan had so carefully arranged, his shoulder brushed against it. Whether by accident or design, the contact was just enough to disturb the delicate balance of the structure.
In what seemed like slow motion, the tower began to collapse, glasses tumbling down in a spectacular cascade of crystal and champagne. The crash was deafening, shards and liquid spreading across the marble floor, spattering the shoes and clothes of nearby guests.
Devon paused, looking back at the destruction with what appeared to be mild regret.
"My apologies," he said, his voice carrying easily over the shocked gasps. "It seems some things aren't built on as stable a foundation as they appear."
With that parting comment, he walked out, leaving chaos in his wake—both in the room and in my heart.