Chapter 59
Aria’s POV
He entered me slowly, filling me completely. For a moment, he remained still, his forehead pressed against mine, our breaths mingling. Then he began to move, each thrust deliberate and deep.
"You feel incredible," he murmured against my lips. "So perfect around me."
His words were as intoxicating as his touch, each praise pushing me higher. When his hand slipped between us to stroke me in time with his thrusts, I cried out.
"That's it," he encouraged. "Let go for me, Aria. I want to feel you come apart."
His command was all it took. I shattered around him, waves of pleasure crashing through me with an intensity I'd never experienced before. Devon followed moments later, my name a groan on his lips as he found his own release.
Afterward, he untied my wrists, gently massaging the marks left by his tie. He pulled me against his chest, one arm wrapped possessively around my waist. For the first time since I'd known him, Devon Kane fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
I lay awake a little longer, listening to his steady breathing, wondering how this man who had started as a means to an end had become something so much more complicated.
---
Morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting Manhattan's skyline in hues of gold and amber. I blinked awake, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar room. My body ached pleasantly, reminding me of the night's activities.
Devon was already up and dressed, sitting in an armchair by the window. The Financial Times was open in his hands, but his eyes were on me. The dark circles that had haunted him were noticeably lighter this morning.
"Coffee's on the table," he said, his voice returned to its usual businesslike tone.
I sat up slowly, wincing slightly at the soreness between my thighs. The sheet fell to my waist, and I caught Devon's eyes darkening momentarily before he returned to his paper.
I reached for the silk robe that had been thoughtfully placed at the foot of the bed and slipped it on. The coffee was still hot—black with one sugar, exactly how I liked it. I hadn't told him that.
As I sipped the coffee, my eyes fell on Ethan's ring, still lying on the side table where Devon had tossed it. The diamond caught the morning light, sending prismatic rainbows dancing across the wall.
"Our month-long contract has expired," I said finally, breaking the silence.
Devon looked up from his paper, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on the edges. For a split second, something flashed in his eyes—a mixture of denial and possessiveness—before he masked it with practiced indifference.
"So it has," he replied, his tone deliberately neutral. He set the newspaper down and stood up, walking to the window. His back to me, he asked, "And what does that mean to you exactly?"
The question hung in the air, loaded with unspoken implications. I noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way his reflection in the glass watched me intently despite his casual stance.
"I should go," I answered, avoiding the real question.
He turned slightly, profile illuminated by the morning light. "Your clothes are in the bathroom. I had them pressed."
The mundane statement couldn't quite hide the edge in his voice—the subtle message that our arrangement might be officially over, but something else had begun.
The suite's bathroom was larger than my entire kitchen, all marble and glass with a shower big enough for four. My dress hung on a hook, indeed freshly pressed. I dressed quickly, fixing my hair and applying enough concealer to hide the small marks Devon had left on my neck.
When I emerged, Devon was on the phone, speaking in clipped sentences about market projections and quarterly reports. He gave me a distracted nod as I picked up Ethan's ring and slipped it back onto my finger. If he noticed, he didn't react.
I gathered my purse and phone, checking the time. It was still early enough that I might avoid the walk of shame past too many hotel staff.
"I'll be going then," I said, pausing at the door.
Devon covered the phone's microphone. "The valet has your car ready," he said briefly.
"Thank you."
He nodded, already returning to his call.
I hesitated, feeling like there should be more—a goodbye kiss, perhaps, or at least acknowledgment of what had happened between us. But Devon's focus had shifted entirely to business, as if I were already gone.
I let myself out, closing the door quietly behind me.
He nodded, already returning to his call.
I let myself out, closing the door quietly behind me.
The elevator ride down to the lobby was mercifully empty. I checked my reflection in the mirrored walls, making sure I looked composed and not like someone who had spent the night being thoroughly pleasured by one man while wearing another man's ring.
The doors opened onto the marble expanse of Pantheon's grand lobby. I was halfway to the exit when I spotted them—Ethan and Scarlett, emerging from the elevator bank on the opposite side.
Scarlett wore the same white dress from last night, slightly wrinkled now. She was leaning into Ethan, one hand possessively on his arm. They hadn't noticed me yet.
I slipped on my sunglasses and continued toward the door, ensuring my left hand was clearly visible, Ethan's ring catching the light with every movement. Just as I reached my car, I heard Ethan's sharp intake of breath.
"Aria?" His voice was panicked, confused.
I pretended not to hear, sliding into the driver's seat of my Porsche. Through the rearview mirror, I watched as he hastily pushed Scarlett away, his face a mask of alarm.
Scarlett's expression flickered from annoyance to sugary sweetness as she tried to recapture his attention. But Ethan's eyes were fixed on my car, his posture radiating guilt and fear.
I pulled away from the curb, a small smile playing on my lips.
My phone rang before I'd gone three blocks. Ethan's name flashed on the screen, connected through my car's Bluetooth. I considered ignoring it, but that wouldn't serve my purpose. Instead, I adopted a sleepy, slightly confused tone.
"Hello?"
"Aria, baby, where are you?" Ethan's voice was strained with forced casualness.
"On my way home. I needed to clear my head after last night."
"I was worried sick." The lie came easily to him. "I woke up and you were gone."
I suppressed a snort. "I'm sorry about that. I just needed some space after... everything that happened."
"I'm so sorry about last night," he said, his voice dripping with rehearsed remorse. "I had too much to drink. I didn't mean to pressure you."
"It's fine, Ethan. I understand." I made my voice soft, forgiving.
"Can I see you tonight? Let me make it up to you with dinner at Per Se."
I pretended to consider. "I don't think I can tonight. I have deadlines for the Kane account."
"Tomorrow then? Please, Aria. I need to see you."
The desperation in his voice was real, at least. Not because he missed me, but because he was terrified I might have seen him with Scarlett.
"I'll check my schedule and let you know," I said, deliberately vague.
"Aria, I love you," he blurted out. "You know that, right?"
The words hung in the air, hollow and false. Once upon a time, I would have given anything to hear them. Now, they meant nothing.
"I know, Ethan," I lied smoothly. "I'll call you later."