Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 93

Aria's POV

Hearing my words, Aiden's gaze intensified as he studied my face for a moment. "I see. Wait here, I'll have something sent up."

The moment he said this, my face instantly flushed crimson. I nodded weakly. "Oh... thank you."

Is there anyone more embarrassed than me right now? I seriously doubted it.

I numbly closed the door, leaning against it with a sigh. Everything that had happened tonight felt like some bizarre dream. Not a single thing had gone according to plan.

Ten minutes later, I opened the bathroom door again. The replacement dress was a stunning black number with a hemline that stopped just above my knees. The underwear problem had been discreetly solved—thank God.

With limited time, I'd only managed to half-dry my hair. My makeup, though not completely ruined, had definitely seen better days.

Aiden rose from the sofa as I emerged. "Let's go," he said simply.

"What? We're just leaving?" I asked, surprised. Wouldn't that be incredibly rude?

"Yes."

Clearly, with Aiden Carter, social niceties were optional. He didn't even hesitate as he guided me from the room to the elevator and down to the lobby. His driver was already waiting outside with the car door open.

I slid into the backseat, and seconds later, Aiden settled beside me. As the car pulled away from the hotel, my mind drifted back to the pool incident.

"Aiden, can I ask you something?" I ventured.

He raised an eyebrow, silently giving me permission.

"Claire... is there something not quite right with her?" I tapped my temple with my finger. What normal person would do what she just did?

Aiden gave me a measured look. "Next time, don't engage with her."

"Right. Of course."

Lesson learned. I was too impulsive.

Silence fell between us. I turned to stare out the window, suddenly aware that my hair was still damp, especially underneath where the blow dryer couldn't reach. The car's air conditioning was blasting, making the wet strands feel ice-cold against my neck.

I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself, trying to suppress a shiver. Aiden, who'd been resting with his eyes closed, looked over at me. "Cold?"

The driver immediately responded, "Mrs. Carter, is the AC too low? I'll adjust it."

He reached to turn up the temperature, but Aiden's voice cut through the car: "Turn off the AC completely. Open the windows instead."

"No, don't turn it off," I protested quickly. "It's not that cold. Just turning it up a bit would be fine." It was sweltering outside—we'd be miserable without any air conditioning.

Aiden didn't reply verbally. Instead, he reached over and took my hand in his. "Not cold?"

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