Aria's POV
As soon as Claire vanished from view, two men appeared from the crowd, moving fast—one of them missing a shoe.
They stopped abruptly, staring between Claire's retreating figure and me standing there soaked to the bone.
They were the Linden brothers—the hosts. They looked completely bewildered, like they sprinted all the way here expecting World War III only to find everything suspiciously calm.
The older Linden brother—Louis Linden recovered quickly.
With the practiced ease of someone used to handling rich people's drama, he gestured to his younger brother to escort the remaining onlookers back to the ballroom. Then he turned to me with a polite smile.
"Mrs. Carter, let me show you to a room where you can change out of those wet clothes."
Before I could respond, I felt Aiden's arm slip around my shoulders, securing the towel more firmly around me. Then without warning, he bent down and scooped me up into his arms.
"This way, Mr. and Mrs. Carter," Louis said, leading us through a side entrance.
I was still too stunned by Claire's bizarre behavior to process being carried like this.
My arms instinctively wrapped around Aiden's neck, and it took me several seconds to realize what was happening.
"I'm getting you all wet..." I murmured, suddenly conscious of my dripping dress against his expensive suit.
Aiden glanced down at me, his dark eyes unreadable. "You'll take a shower and change first. That's more important."
"That's not what I meant." But I stopped protesting. My dress was clinging to every curve in a way that would make walking through a hotel lobby mortifying. Better to be carried like a damsel in distress than parade around looking like I entered a wet t-shirt contest.
We were quickly escorted to a presidential suite. The hotel staff swiped a keycard, opening the door for us. "Mr. Carter, Mrs. Carter, a replacement dress will be delivered shortly."
Aiden carried me straight to the bathroom, not stopping until he set me down on the marble countertop. The staff member discreetly closed the suite door behind us, leaving us alone.
I shrugged off Aiden's suit jacket that's now half-soaked from my dress. "It's ruined," I said apologetically, holding it out to him.
"Don't worry about it," he replied, turning to the shower and adjusting the water temperature.
I sat there on the counter, watching him test the water with his hand. My eyes drifted to his waist—God, it was so trim, yet so powerful. The way his shirt clung to his back... so hot.
I remembered what it felt like to wrap my arms around that waist, to press myself against him, my fingers splayed over his skin—hard muscle, warm and solid beneath my touch....
Heat rose to my cheeks when I realized where my thoughts were heading. In a bathroom. With both of us wet. Jesus.
"Ready," Aiden announced, turning back toward me.
His eyes darkened instantly as they took in my appearance.
I looked up and our eyes locked. My heartbeat accelerated so quickly I was sure he could hear it echoing off the tile walls.
I dropped my gaze, only to find myself staring at his throat, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.
It was suddenly way too hot in there.
I curled my toes against the cool marble, desperately trying to control the heat pooling in my stomach. Bathrooms were dangerous places when you're with someone you're attracted to—they practically screamed sex.


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