Chapter 89
Aria’s POV
I scan the glittering ballroom, trying not to let my anxiety show as all these wealthy socialites stare at me like I’m some exotic creature in a zoo.
That’s when I spot him-Liam, standing across the room with a champagne glass clutched in his hand, staring right at me and Aiden.
Just my luck. The night was already overwhelming enough without my ex deciding to make an appearance.
I quickly look away, muttering under my breath.
“What is it?” Aiden asks, his hand still possessively on my waist.
“Nothing important,” I say, forcing a smile. “Just spotted someone I’d rather avoid p>
Aiden follows my gaze briefly, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly when he sees Liam. Without a word, he guides me toward the bar, keeping his body slightly between me and Liam’s line of sight. I can’t help but appreciate the protective gesture.
“Drink?” he offers, handing me a glass of rich red wine.
I almost take a sip of the red wine Aiden hands me before freezing mid-motion. God, what am I thinking? My alcohol tolerance is practically non-existent. One sip and I’ll be three steps away from total disaster.
“Not to your liking?” Aiden asks, his eyebrow quirking slightly as he notices my hesitation.
It’s not that I don’t like wine-I love it way too much. That’s the problem. Last time I got drunk around Aiden, I started rambling about “car sex” of all things. The memory alone makes my cheeks burn hotter than the sun.
“Drinking isn’t good for me,” I mutter, trying to sound casual and not like I’m having PTSD flashbacks from my last alcohol-induced humiliation.
Aiden’s lips curve into a rare smile that does strange things to my insides. Without comment, he takes the wine glass from my hand and smoothly exchanges it for a glass of orange juice from a passing server’s tray.
“Drink this instead,” he says, his fingers briefly brushing against mine.
I glance around at all the sophisticated guests with their wine glasses, feeling slightly ridiculous. Here I am in this show-stopping dress with a freaking glass of orange juice like I’m at a children’s birthday party. I could just hold the wine without drinking it p>
But whatever. Aiden’s just being considerate.
“Thanks,” I say, accepting the juice.
I’ve barely taken my first sip when I hear someone call out, “Mr. and Mrs. Carter p>
Looking up, I recognize Louis Linden, heir of Millennium Group.As tonight’s VIP guest, Aiden naturally warrants personal attention from our host.
Aiden’s hand on my waist tightens slightly, pulling me closer to his side as he acknowledges Lin with a slight nod. “Mr. Linden p>
I straighten my posture, summoning my most polished smile. “Mr. Linden p>
“I didn’t expect you to find time in your busy schedule to attend, Mr. Carter. Please forgive any shortcomings in our hospitality,” Lin says smoothly before his gaze shifts to me.
His eyes catch on the “Beyond Compare” necklace at my throat, and there’s a momentary flicker in his expression before he recovers with practiced ease. He compliments my appearance with the polished delivery of someone who makes small talk for a living.
With so many wealthy and influential guests demanding attention, Lin can’t linger long. He assigns a server to attend to our needs before excusing himself to greet other arrivals.
The moment he leaves, we’re descended upon by a flock of eager socialites. Aiden rarely attends these functions, so his presence tonight has created quite the stir-a golden opportunity for those hoping to curry favor.
They’re careful though, approaching me rather than risking offending Aiden directly. The women flutter around me with honeyed compliments that grow more tiresome by the second.
I smile and thank the first few, but eventually I just turn toward Aiden, pretending to be deep in conversation with him whenever another social climber approaches.
They get the hint quickly enough, retreating with their champagne flutes and wounded pride.
I’m just about to complain to Aiden about how boring these events are when a ripple
of whispers spreads through the crowd. I follow everyone’s gaze to see Eleanor
Smith entering the ballroom with Claire Bennett by her side.
My spine stiffens automatically. The gossip mill has been working overtime lately with rumors that the Carter family disapproves of me as Aiden’s wife, and that Claire is their preferred choice for daughter-in-law. Seeing Eleanor personally escorting Claire to tonight’s event is like tong watching those rumors come to life in high definition.
The eyes that were envying me just moments ago are now gleaming with anticipation for the drama
about to unfold. I can practical/net
hear their thoughts: Foor Aria, about to be humiliated by her auntie inlaw and her husband’s “real” match.
Eleanor makes a beeline toward us, Claire in tow, and the crowd parts like the Red Sea before them. Within seconds, they’re standing right in front of us.
“Aiden,” Eleanor says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Miss Bennett has something she’d like to discuss with you p>
Then she turns to me, her expression softening into something almost convincingly friendly. “Miss Jones, would you mind keeping me company for a little stroll around the room p>
I meet her gaze steadily, feeling the
weight of dozens of eyes watching this exchange. Everyone’s waiting for me to capitulate, tomeekly, follow Eleanor while my husband chats with the woman they all believe should be wearing my ring.
“I’m afraid I would mind, actually,” I say slowly, each word deliberately casual yet unmistakably firm.
The shock on Eleanor’s face is almost worth the tension crackling through the air. She’d clearly expected me to swallow whatever pride I have and agree, especially in front of all these witnesses.
The crowd around us collectively holds their breath. I can hear fragments of whispered comments:
“Is she serious? That’s her husband’s auntie p>
“The Carters and Aiden have never been close. She’s just taking his side p>
“So disrespectful, even if she disagrees p>
“With that necklace around her throat? She’s got all the backup she needs p>
Eleanor hears them too—I can tell by the slight tightening around her eyes—but she recovers quickly, her social mask sliding back into place.
“That’s fine,” she says smoothly. “In that case, why don’t you enjoy yourself here while Miss Bennett speaks with Aiden? She has some important matters to discuss p>
Claire, dressed to kill in what I’m sure is a designer original, jumps in immediately. “You wouldn’t mind stepping aside for a moment, would you, Mr. Carter?” Aiden barely spares her a glance, his expression utterly disinterested. “Actually, I would mind p>
The silent shock from the onlookers is so thick I could scoop it with a spoon. What a united front we’re presenting! I almost want to laugh at how perfectly synchronized our responses were.
Claire’s eyebrow arches slightly, but instead of showing any irritation, she turns her attention to me. “In that case, Mrs. Carter, might I have a word with you p>