Chapter 94
Aria's POV
Devon captured my chin between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes lingering on my lips.
"Look at that," he mused, his voice low and amused. "It seems Ms. Harper isn't always so polished in everything she does."
My cheeks burned, the warmth spreading down my neck. I was far more accustomed to boardroom negotiations than bedroom encounters. "Compared to business deals, I admit this is an area where my experience is... somewhat limited."
His eyes darkened at my confession. I noticed his breathing deepen slightly, his gaze intensifying as if he found my admission intriguing. He released my chin and moved to stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows. I remained on the bed, watching him, my heart racing with anticipation. I found myself studying the way his shoulders tensed beneath his shirt, the precise angle of his jaw as he turned to look at the city lights.
"Come here," he commanded softly.
I slid off the bed and walked toward him, the plush carpet soft beneath my bare feet. When I reached him, he placed his hands on my shoulders, his touch warm and firm, turning me to face the glittering city below. I could feel the heat of his chest against my back, not quite touching but close enough that I was acutely aware of his presence.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured against my ear, his breath warm on my neck.
Before I could respond, he swept me into his arms. I gasped in surprise as he carried me back to the bed, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He deposited me onto the center of his massive mattress. Looking up at him, I felt vulnerable yet strangely secure. His eyes held mine, intense and searching, as if trying to read my thoughts.
I closed my eyes, bracing myself for his touch, my breath shallow with anticipation.
But the touch never came.
When I opened my eyes, Devon was standing at the bedside table, pulling out an elegant leather portfolio. His face had changed completely – the warmth vanished, replaced by cool professionalism.
"Contracts," he said coolly. "I believe we should address the formalities first."
I blinked in confusion, struggling to keep up with his sudden change in mood. Sitting up, I smoothed my dress and tried to reclaim some composure, though my flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips likely betrayed my disappointment.
He handed me the leather portfolio. Inside was a carefully prepared agreement detailing the monthly payments I would have to make after I agreed to trade with him. The figures made my heart skip—this would more than solve our immediate financial problems.
"These terms are quite generous," I said, scanning the document, my voice slightly huskier than intended.
"I always pay fair market value for what I want," he replied, his voice businesslike, eyes fixed on the contract rather than me.
I flipped through the pages, noting the detailed clauses about exclusivity, time commitments, and the precise nature of our arrangement. Devon sat beside me, maintaining a careful distance that felt deliberate.
"No further questions? No negotiation?" he asked, one eyebrow raised when I reached for the pen. A slight crease appeared between his brows.
I met his gaze directly as I signed my name with a flourish. "Kane's reputation for fair dealings precedes him. Besides," I added with a small smile, "compared to someone like Ethan Blake, these terms are positively magnanimous."
As soon as Ethan's name left my lips, I noticed a change in Devon's demeanor. His shoulders tensed, his eyes narrowed slightly. The air between us seemed to cool instantly.
I extended my hand. "To a successful partnership."
The change in his expression was subtle but unmistakable—his eyes cooled, his jaw tightened. He shook my hand mechanically, his grip perfunctory, releasing it quickly.
"I have matters to attend to," he said abruptly, rising from the bed. "Marcus will handle the remaining details."
He strode to his closet, leaving me confused by the sudden shift. His back was rigid, his movements sharp and controlled. I followed, watching as he selected a fresh shirt and tie, his fingers moving with practiced efficiency.
"Did I say something wrong?" I asked, genuinely puzzled, searching his face for any clue to his sudden coldness.
Devon's movements were precise as he buttoned his shirt. His face remained expressionless, but I noticed a muscle working in his jaw. "According to our newly signed agreement, you don't have the right to question my whereabouts or activities."
I attempted to help him with his tie, my fingers fumbling with the silk. The intimacy of the gesture felt important somehow, a small way to bridge the sudden gulf between us. "I didn't mean to pry. I just thought..."
"What did you think, Ms. Harper?" His tone was detached as he gently but firmly removed my hands from his tie. His fingers lingered on my wrists for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "That we would spend the evening together? The contract doesn't specify that."
"No, I—" I stepped back, unsure how to navigate this sudden coldness. The rejection stung more than it should have. "Should I wait for you to return?"
"That's entirely up to you." He checked his watch, the gesture signaling his impatience. Yet there was something in his eyes – a flicker of emotion that contradicted his dismissive tone.
I watched him leave, the door closing with a soft click. I stood there for a long moment, trying to understand what had just happened, and why it left me feeling so unexpectedly hollow.
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Devon's POV
I settled into a secluded corner of Pantheon's VIP section, letting the familiar burn of single malt wash down my throat. The exclusive club hummed with activity, but I barely registered the people around me. My mind kept replaying the moment Aria casually mentioned Ethan Blake's name.
Why had it bothered me so much? The slight curve of her lips as she said it, the casual comparison. Something had twisted inside me, sharp and unexpected. I took another sip, hoping the alcohol would dull this unfamiliar feeling.
Christopher dropped into the seat across from me, his usual smirk already irritating me.
"Woman troubles?" he asked, signaling for his usual drink. His eyes were too perceptive, reading more in my expression than I wanted to reveal.
I didn't answer, just took another sip of my scotch. I couldn't stop thinking about Aria sitting on my bed, her honey-colored eyes looking up at me with a mix of uncertainty and desire.
"The Kane Technologies stock jumped three points today," Christopher continued, undeterred by my silence. "That merger in Silicon Valley is looking promising."
Business talk was usually my refuge, but tonight even that couldn't hold my attention. Christopher's persistence was becoming grating.
"So... Aria Harper. How's that going?" His voice dropped slightly as he leaned in. "She certainly made a spectacle of the Blakes. I have to admire her style."
The mention of her name sent an unexpected wave of irritation through me. Her name in his mouth felt wrong somehow. I set my glass down harder than intended.
"You talk too much," I said, standing and buttoning my jacket. My fingers felt stiff, uncooperative.
As I walked away, I heard Christopher call after me, "Come on! At least tell me if she's fixed that insomnia problem of yours!"
My steps faltered for a fraction of a second. The question hit closer to home than I cared to admit, even to myself. I'd slept deeply last night, without waking every hour. I had woken with her scent on my pillows, feeling more rested than I had in days. But I didn't turn back.
In the back of my sedan, I closed my eyes, feeling the alcohol warm my bloodstream. Her words echoed in my mind: "compared to someone like Ethan Blake..." The contract was clear—this was a business arrangement, nothing more. And yet, the casual comparison had triggered something possessive that I hadn't anticipated.
I tapped my fingers against the leather seat, trying to redirect my thoughts to the Silicon Valley deal, but Aria's amber eyes kept intruding. The soft curve of her neck, the hesitant touch of her fingers on my tie. I hadn't meant to be so cold, but her mention of Blake had caught me off guard. I didn't like the idea of her thinking of him while with me, comparing us.
I barely registered the car stopping or Marcus opening the door. I kept my eyes closed, not ready to face the emptiness of my penthouse, wondering if she had stayed or gone. Part of me hoped for the former, though I'd never admit it aloud.
"Sir?" Marcus's voice seemed distant. "Mr. Kane?"