Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 32

Aiden's POV

I stared at my phone for the fifth time in twenty minutes, scrolling through my contacts until I reached Aria's name. My thumb hovered over the call button before I locked the screen again and set it face down on the conference table.

This was ridiculous. I was acting like some lovesick teenager.

The quarterly reports presentation continued in front of me, but I barely registered the nervous voice of our marketing director as he explained the latest campaign results. My mind kept drifting back to last night—to Aria's hurt expression before she walked out.

Who should make the first move after our argument? Should I call her? Give her space? The questions had been circling my mind since she left this morning. I'd never struggled with this kind of indecision before—not with any woman.

But Aria wasn't just any woman.

My hand crept toward my phone again.

"Mr. Carter? Do you have any questions about the third quarter projections?"

I looked up to find the entire boardroom staring at me. Lucas, sitting to my right, subtly cleared his throat—his signal that I'd missed something important.

"Continue," I said curtly, as if I'd been paying attention the whole time.

I picked up my phone again, checking for messages that weren't there. When I glanced up, I caught my executive team exchanging meaningful looks.

The presenter—Jenkins from Marketing—actually seemed relieved, probably thinking my diverted attention meant he'd escape today's meeting unscathed.

Poor bastard couldn't be more wrong.

The moment he finished his presentation with a self-satisfied smile, I closed the folder in front of me.

"I brought you all back here to create profit, not to sell me fairy tales," I said, my voice cutting through the room's stale air. "Even a donkey knows when it's about to be slaughtered after finishing its work. What do you think I'm considering right now?"

Jenkins' face drained of color. "Mr. Carter, if you'd just give us another week—"

"Three days," I interrupted, not bothering to hide my contempt.

"Three—three days," he stammered. "We'll definitely present a satisfactory proposal in three days!"

As everyone filed out, Lucas lingered behind, watching me with that analytical expression he'd perfected over years of working together.

"What?" I snapped, suddenly irritable.

"Nothing," he replied carefully. "Just wondering if everything's alright. You seemed... distracted today."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache. "I'm fine."

"Of course," Lucas nodded, clearly not believing me. "By the way,Your grandmother called. Again. She wants to know when you and Mrs. Carter will be visiting."

"Just handle it, Lucas."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and conference calls. By 7 PM, when Ethan texted suggesting drinks at Black Label, I was ready to leave the office.

I hesitated. The last thing I wanted was to go out, but maybe a distraction would be good. Sitting alone in my study thinking about Aria wasn't helping anyone.

Black Label was crowded when I arrived, the Thursday night crowd spilling into every corner of the exclusive lounge. I spotted Ethan at our usual booth, already working his way through what looked like his second or third drink.

"Carter!" He grinned, raising his glass. "I wasn't sure you'd come. Thought marriage might have domesticated you already."

I slid into the booth, signaling the waiter for my usual. "It's been two weeks."

"Two weeks, two decades—either way, you're officially off the market." He took another sip, studying me over the rim of his glass."You look like shit,what's going on?"

I ignored the question, signaling the bartender instead. "Scotch. Neat."

"That bad, huh?" Ethan grinned, clearly enjoying my discomfort. " Lucas mentioned you've been checking your phone like it might explode all day."

I scowled. "Lucas talks too much."

"He worries about you. We all do." Ethan leaned back, studying me. "Serious question—are you actually falling for her?"

Before I could answer, loud, slurred shouting from across the bar caught my attention. My jaw clenched automatically as I recognized that voice.

Ethan followed my gaze to where Liam White was making a scene, his face flushed with alcohol as he swayed on his feet. A man I recognized as his friend Xander, grabbed the glass from his hand. "That's enough! You need to stop!"

"Leave me alone!" Liam shoved him away violently.

A slim woman—Sophia, I presumed—appeared at his side, whispering something in his ear while stroking his arm in what looked like a practiced gesture of comfort.

was trying unsuccessfully to calm him down.

"Well, well," Ethan murmured, following my gaze. "Looks like your wife's ex is having a rough night."

"He's not worth my time," I said coldly, turning my back on the scene.

Ethan smirked. "Sure about that? Because you're gripping that glass like you're imagining it's his throat."

I took a long swallow of my drink, savoring the burn. "How's your latest acquisition going?"

With a sharp exhale, I released Liam with a shove. He crumpled back against the bar, face pale, smeared with blood and disbelief.

I straightened my jacket, brushed off my sleeves, then reached into my wallet. I pulled out a wad of hundred-dollar bills and stuffed them into his pocket.

"For the damages," I said flatly.

Liam coughed, clutching his ribs, blood staining his teeth.He looked up at me with hatred burning in his eyes."You think this is over?" he spat. "I won't let you get away with this, Carter. I swear it."

Who cares？

I turned away without another glance.

"Feel better?" Ethan asked, holding the door open for me.

"Much," I muttered, flexing my sore knuckles.

As we stepped into the night air, Ethan let out a low whistle. "You know, for someone in a marriage of convenience, you seem awfully protective of your wife's honor."

"You know," he added as we reached the sidewalk, "I've never seen you lose your cool like that. Not even when Davies tried to tank your acquisition last year."

I rolled my shoulder, my jaw still tight. "He crossed a line."

Ethan chuckled. "Apparently, so did you. And for what it's worth—I think that's a good thing."

"Coming home tonight?"

A good thing?

Maybe.

"Go home, call your wife," Ethan advised, clapping me on the shoulder. "And ice that hand."

As I slid into my car, I finally admitted to myself what I'd been avoiding all day: I missed her.

I pulled out my phone and finally did what I'd been wanting to do all day.

I texted Aria.

Coming home tomorrow?

Three simple words that somehow felt like the most important question I'd ever asked.