The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 147

Chapter 147

Aria’s POV

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The dim lighting of Devon’s luxury suite cast soft shadows across the room as he carefully cleaned my wounded arm. His long fingers worked with surprising gentleness, dabbing alcohol–soaked cotton against the cut I’d received during the confrontation with Owen’s fiancée. I winced slightly at the sting, but

couldn’t help noticing how precisely he worked, almost professionally.

“So, who is Owen to Sophia exactly?” Devon asked, his eyes focused on my injury rather than my face.

I sighed, the memories of Sophia’s heartbreak still fresh “They dated for three years at Princeton. He was

her everything–promised they’d build a life together after graduation.” I felt my voice hardening. “Then he

disappeared. Suddenly announced he was moving abroad for ‘career development,‘ leaving her behind.”

Devon’s hands paused momentarily before resuming their work. “Owen Wilson is my mother’s sister’s son.”

His expression remained neutral as he secured the bandage. “The family elders thought his relationship

with ‘that Asian girl from Princeton‘ wasn’t… suitable. They arranged a position for him in the London

branch.”

Anger flared inside me. “So they broke them up because she’s Asian? And you’re okay with that?”

“I didn’t say I agreed with it.” His voice remained calm, almost detached. “It was a family decision based on

tradition and what they considered appropriate matches.”

“Discrimination wrapped in the polite language of ‘tradition‘ and ‘appropriateness‘ is still discrimination,” I

snapped, “even when it’s packaged in Boston old money respectability.”

Devon’s face remained impassive, his gray eyes revealing nothing. My anger intensified at his apparent

indifference.

‘I should go,” I said, standing abruptly. “You and your perfectly traditional family elders can continue

preserving whatever it is you think you’re preserving.”

As I turned, Devon caught my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Leaving so soon?” His voice dropped lower. “After all the effort you put into tonight?” His eyes traveled down my body, lingering on the silk dress I’d chosen carefully for the evening.

I tried to pull away, suddenly aware that during our earlier confrontation with Chloe, one of my dress straps had torn, revealing the lace edge of the lingerie selected with equal care. The realization made

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my cheeks flush.

“Let go,” I whispered, but the command lacked conviction.

Devon stood, closing the distance between us in one flud motion. His height and proximity made my breath catch. For a moment, we simply stared at each other, the argument suspended in the charged space

between our bodies.

“Make me,” he challenged, his voice barely audible.

What began as anger transformed into something else entirely. One moment we were adversaries locked in

ideological battle; the next, his mouth was on mine, hungry and demanding. I responded with equal fervor,

my fingers tangling in his dark hair as he lifted me effortlessly onto the suite’s marble counter.

Hours later, I drifted to sleep beside him, noticing through heavy lids how peacefully Devon slept–no signs

of the insomnia his assistant had mentioned.

I woke alone, morning light streaming through the suite’s windows. On the nightstand sat a cup of coffee, a

buttery croissant, and a handwritten note: [Business calls. Transportation arranged.] Devon’s precise

handwriting matched his personality–controlled and efficient.

A soft knock at the door revealed Marcus, Devon’s ever–reliable assistant, wearing a mysterious smile.

“Mr. Kane asked me to show you a surprise,” he said. “I believe you’ll find it quite pleasing.”

Outside the hotel, gleaming in the morning sun, sat a brand new silver Porsche 911 Carrera. Its sleek

curves caught the light like liquid mercury. Marcus held out a key fob with a small personalized card

attached: [Safety first–D.K.]

“I can’t accept this,” I stammered, stunned by the extravagance. “It’s too much.”

“Mr. Kane was quite explicit in his instructions,” Marcus replied with practiced diplomacy. “The vehicle is

registered in your name. All paperwork is in the glove compartment.”

I reluctantly took the keys, the weight of them heavy in my palm. Once inside the car, I texted Devon:

[Thank you, but isn’t this excessive?]

His reply came seconds later: [Are you underestimating me? It’s just a little toy. Enjoy the drive.]

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I parked the silver Porsche outside Stellar Impressions Brooklyn office, aware of the stares from employees arriving for work. The car stood out against the typical Priuses and Subarus like a diamond among pebbles.

Sophia pulled me into the conference room the moment I entered. “That car outside–it’s from him, isn’t it? Her eyes widened. “Are you dating Devon Kane now

“It’s complicated,” I hedged.

“Be careful, Aria.” Sophia’s voice dropped to a whisper. Our company needs to stand on its own merit, not

depend on anyone’s favor.”

Her words resonated uncomfortably. What did this car represent? A generous gift, or something more

complicated–a mark of ownership, perhaps? I’d built my company through hard work and talent, not

connections or favors.

As I turned to head back to my office, our receptionist oe’s voice crackled through the intercom, tension

evident in her tone.

“Aria, your father–William Harper–is waiting in the lobby. He seems… upset.”

My father’s eyes narrowed when he spotted me crossing the lobby. His gaze had already fixed on the silver

Porsche visible through the glass doors.

“We need to talk,” he said tersely. “Your office. Now.”

Once inside with the door closed, he didn’t bother sitting down. “Where were you last night? And what’s

with that car? Some man buying you expensive gifts?”

“I don’t believe my personal life requires the approval of the Harper Group CEO,” I replied evenly, maintaining my composure despite the flutter of anxiety in my chest.

“You’re a Harper, Aria. You carry your mother’s legacy in this family.” His voice lowered. “You need to

understand what’s appropriate and what isn’t.”

His mention of my mother sent a flash of anger through me, but I controlled it. “I’m an adult running my

own company. I don’t need lectures on appropriateness

Then he placed a folder on my desk. “Harper Group is facing some financing challenges. We could use your PR strategies.” His expression suggested this was merel the opening salvo in a much larger battle. “We’re

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family, after all. Remember that.”

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I stared at the folder, then glanced out at the silver Porsche gleaming in the morning sun. Both represented different kinds of power, different types of obligation. And somehow, I felt caught between them, struggling to maintain my own identity amidst these competing influences.

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