Chapter 66
Aria's POV
I'd barely slept, replaying the scene at Le Petit Jardin in my mind. The shock on Scarlett's face when Ethan had dismissed their baby as a "situation" to be "resolved" had been almost worth the years of her snide remarks and calculated innocence. Almost.
As I descended the grand staircase of the Harper mansion, my heels clicking against the marble, I rehearsed my arguments one more time. The Hampton beach house had been my mother's sanctuary, her favorite place in the world. She'd left it to me in her will, with explicit instructions that it would become mine when I turned twenty-five. There was no way I'd let Victoria or my father manipulate their way around that.
"Aria." My father's voice stopped me at the bottom of the stairs. He stood in the center of the foyer in his custom Tom Ford suit, looking every inch the media mogul. "I'd like a word before you leave."
I checked my watch. "I have a meeting in forty minutes, Dad."
"This won't take long." His tone left no room for negotiation. "I've been thinking about your... situation with Ethan."
I raised an eyebrow. "My situation?"
"The wedding." He waved his hand dismissively. "I think it would be best if you arranged to meet with him. Alone. The sooner we move forward with the prenuptial agreements, the better."
Of course. No concern about my feelings, just business as usual.
"I have more important matters to attend to," I replied coolly.
"More important than your future?" His eyes narrowed. "Than the family's future?"
He sighed, running a hand through his silver-flecked hair. "I might be willing to consider transferring the Hampton property into your name. As a gesture of goodwill."
I almost laughed. "Every promise you've made to me in the last five years has been broken. Your credit rating with me is well below zero, Dad."
Before he could respond, he turned toward the stairs. "Elsa, please tell Scarlett to come down immediately. We need to resolve this property matter once and for all."
My heart raced. Was he actually going to do it?
Scarlett appeared moments later, a vision in white Chanel, looking nervous beneath her perfect makeup.
"Scarlett, darling," my father said, his voice softening in that way it only did for her. "I need you to get your ID and go with Aria to the real estate attorney's office. We're going to transfer the Hampton beach house."
Her eyes widened. "But Daddy, I can't today—"
"I'll make it up to you, double," he promised, cutting her off.
I felt fire ignite behind my eyes. Double. Of course he'd been compensating her all along, probably giving her cash and gifts worth far more than my mother's property. I wondered briefly if I should reveal what I knew about her pregnancy, but decided to hold that card close for now.
"Fine," Scarlett muttered, shooting me a venomous glare.
Before we could move toward the door, Victoria appeared on the stairs, her Louboutins clicking ominously against the marble.
"William, darling," she called, her voice honey-sweet but her eyes hard as she reached the foyer. "What's all this about the Hampton house?"
My father turned, already looking guilty. "I was just telling the girls—"
"That property is listed as a Harper Group asset," Victoria interrupted smoothly. "It's been used as collateral for our most recent loan. Surely you remember signing the papers?"
I turned to my father, watching his face. "Is that true?"
"The business has expenses you couldn't possibly understand, Aria," Victoria answered for him.
"Really?" I challenged. "Because according to Bloomberg, the venture capital injection announced two days ago, plus the bond issue from three months ago, should more than cover operational costs."
Victoria's smile froze for a microsecond before she recovered. "Running a media conglomerate is far more complex than your little marketing agency, dear."
She went on to detail the supposedly crushing expenses facing the Harper family: Scarlett's tuition at Princeton, my father's recent medical bills (news to me), and the upcoming charity gala they were sponsoring.
"If William insists on transferring that property to you," Victoria concluded, tears suddenly glistening in her eyes, "I'll have no choice but to reconsider our marriage arrangements."
My father paled, hurrying after Victoria as she swept dramatically up the stairs.
Left alone with Scarlett, I watched her mask drop.
"Don't waste your time, sister," she sneered. "That beach house is my weekend party spot now. Over two million likes on Instagram prove it."
I smiled coldly. "What's mine will be mine again, Scarlett. Every last bit of it." I paused, watching her carefully. "And congratulations on your... new development. Perhaps Ethan should receive those congratulations too."
The color drained from her face, and I knew I'd hit my target.
I drove toward Brooklyn in my Porsche, seething with anger but also satisfaction. I called Garrett Morgan.
"Miss Harper," his gravelly voice answered. "I've confirmed what you suspected. The beach house was indeed listed as a company asset, with a loan secured against it. But the timing is interesting—the paperwork was filed just weeks after your mother's death."
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Of course. Victoria had been planning this from the beginning.
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Of course. Victoria had been planning this from the beginning.
Lost in thought, I barely noticed the red light until it was too late. I slammed on my brakes, but still collided with the back of a sleek black Bentley.
"Damn it!" I muttered, climbing out to assess the damage.
The driver's door of the Bentley opened, and a tall figure emerged. My stomach dropped as those unmistakable gray eyes locked on mine—Devon Kane, looking impeccable as always in a charcoal suit that matched my own. The dark circles under his eyes seemed deeper than before, the only imperfection in his appearance. My heart beat faster, traitorous and unbidden.
"Impressive rear-ending technique, Miss Harper," he said coolly, examining the minor damage to his bumper.
"It was an accident," I explained, trying to keep my voice steady. "I was distracted—"
"Another carefully orchestrated 'accident' to get my attention?" His voice was low, almost mocking, but his eyes lingered on my face a second longer than necessary.
"Do you really think the world revolves around you, Mr. Kane?" I crossed my arms.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne. "Sometimes you revolve around me, don't you?" The words were delivered with clinical detachment, but something in his gaze made my skin warm.
"That was a business arrangement," I replied, hating how breathless I sounded.
Devon's eyes traveled slowly from my face down to my heels and back up again. His expression remained impassive, but I caught the slight tension in his jaw.
"I need to borrow your vehicle for a few hours," he said abruptly. "I have a meeting. You can stay and handle the insurance."
Before I could protest, he'd taken my keys from my hand, his fingers brushing against my palm in a touch that seemed both accidental and deliberate. As he slid into my Porsche, our eyes met once more through the windshield.
At Stellar Impressions, I couldn't concentrate. Sophia noticed my distraction during our creative meeting.
"Earth to Aria," she said, waving a hand in front of my face. "You've been staring at that same slide for five minutes."
"Sorry," I muttered, straightening in my chair. "I just have a lot on my mind."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't press for details. My father called twice, demanding I return home immediately for an emergency meeting with Ethan and the Blake family. I refused both times, disconnecting without a goodbye.
Standing at my office window overlooking the Brooklyn skyline, I wondered how my mother's company had morphed into my father and Victoria's empire, how my mother's house had become collateral for a loan. The wedding would further cement the Harper-Blake connection, but revealing Ethan and Scarlett's affair would blow that partnership apart, potentially devastating my father's business.
As evening fell, I tried repeatedly to contact Devon about my car. When he finally answered, his voice sounded exhausted, the words slightly slurred with fatigue.
"Where's my car?" I demanded, ignoring the small flutter in my chest at the sound of his voice.
"I don't recall promising to return it," he replied. I could almost see him rubbing his forehead, a habit he had when tired.
"Then how am I supposed to get it back?" I paced my office, fingers drumming against my thigh.
A pause. "It's at Elysium. You know where that is." His voice had dropped, becoming quieter.