The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 144

Aria’s POV

ས 52%

Christopher emerged from the shadow of a nearby oak tree, his signature smirk firmly in place. His eyes danced between Devon and me with undisguised curiosity.

I took a half–step back, smoothing down my silk dress. The moment of intimacy had been shattered, leaving an awkward tension in its wake. Devon’s jaw tightened visibly, his eyes darkening with irritation at the interruption. I noticed his hands flex slightly at his sides, as if he was restraining himself from

reaching for me again.

“Don’t mind me,” Christopher continued, his voice dripping with amusement. “Pretend I’m not even here.

Carry on with whatever you were doing.”

Devon turned slowly to face his friend. “Apparently all that food inside wasn’t enough to keep your mouth

occupied.”

His words were cold, but I caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth–he wasn’t truly angry with

Christopher, just annoyed at the timing. I suppressed a smile, watching the interaction with growing

interest. This was a side of Devon I rarely saw–someone with actual friendships, however complicated they

might be.

Christopher’s attention shifted fully to me. “So, Aria Harper, are you two officially dating now? This is

quite the development.”

The question hung in the air between us. What exactly were we? A business arrangement with benefits?

Two people using each other for different reasons? I knew the answer–our relationship was purely transactional–but something about saying it aloud felt wrong. I felt a strange tightness in my chest at the

thought of reducing what was between us to mere business.

“Mr. Quinn, if you’re so curious about Mr. Kane’s personal life, perhaps you should ask him directly instead of interrogating me,” I replied smoothly, neither confirming nor denying.

I glanced at Devon, curious about his reaction. His expression remained impassive, but his eyes met mine briefly with something that looked almost like gratitude.

Christopher’s eyes widened with delight at my response “Oh, I like her, Devon. She’s got spark.”

Devon’s hand suddenly found the small of my back, his ouch possessive. The warmth of his palm seeped

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Chapter 144

through the thin silk of my dress, sending a subtle current across my skin.

Aria, come with me.”

ས ཊཱི, 52%

His tone left no room for argument, but I couldn’t resist challenging him. “Can’t you wait for me just a

moment?” I asked, my voice deliberately soft, almost playful.

Something flickered in Devon’s eyes–surprise, perhaps, that I hadn’t immediately obeyed. A slight frown

creased his brow, then smoothed away as he studied my face. To my shock, he actually waited, allowing me

to finish my conversation with Christopher. Even more surprising was when I slipped my arm through his,

my fingers resting lightly on his wrist, and he didn’t pull away. Instead, his muscles tensed briefly before

relaxing under my touch, his breathing pattern changing almost imperceptibly.

Christopher’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. Devon Kane, notorious for avoiding physical contact

in public, was allowing a woman to touch him casually. pretended not to notice the significance, but my pulse quickened at the realization. Was this part of our arrangement too, or something unscripted?

As Devon led me toward the main building, I caught snippets of conversation behind us.

“Well, that’s that, then,” Christopher was saying to Noal, who had just emerged from the lodge. “Devon bringing Aria to something like this is basically announcing he won’t be marrying Carolin after all.”

“You have too much time on your hands,” Noah replied dryly, his expression unreadable as always.

My step faltered slightly. Was that true? Was Devon making some kind of statement by bringing me here? I pushed the thought away, but not before noticing the tiny flutter in my stomach. Our arrangement was

clear and limited–nothing more.

The lodge’s gardens were beautifully landscaped, with stone pathways winding between expertly manicured hedges and seasonal blooms. Devon guided me toward a secluded terrace, but I stopped abruptly when I spotted a familiar figure by the barbecue area.

Owen Wilson stood there, attentively preparing a plate of grilled meats for a petite blonde woman. His hand rested casually on her lower back as he leaned in to whisper something that made her giggle. The sight sent a wave of anger through me as I remembered Sophia’s tear–stained face just hours earlier. My fingers curled into a fist at my side.

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