Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 247

Aria's POV

The night had finally settled in after dinner. My skin still tingled from our pool encounter earlier—I could practically feel the ghost of Aiden's hands on my body, the way he'd possessed me completely in that water. God, just thinking about it made me clench involuntarily.

Aiden had disappeared into his study with some "urgent documents," which was typical.

Even after sex that would have left most men comatose, his brain switched right back to business mode.

I wandered to the piano room instead, trailing my fingers along the wall as I went. It had been weeks since I'd touched those keys, and suddenly I craved that particular kind of release too.

"Two hours," I mumbled to myself, sitting down at the gleaming grand piano. "Then bed."

I deliberately avoided bringing up Thomas's birthday celebration again. After what happened in the pool, I figured Aiden needed space to process things his own way. The man communicated through touch more than words anyway.

When I finished playing, my fingers pleasantly sore, I noticed the light still streaming from beneath Aiden's study door. My bare feet padded silently down to the kitchen, where I cut up some strawberries, pineapple and blueberries on a crystal plate. The domesticity of it all—me bringing him fruit while he worked late—made me smile. How quickly we'd fallen into these patterns.

I knocked softly before entering his study. Aiden barely glanced up, completely absorbed in whatever corporate emergency had captured his attention now. I placed the plate at the corner of his desk, letting my fingers linger just a second longer than necessary, and slipped back out without disturbing him further.

Back in our bedroom, I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower, letting hot water sluice over muscles still slightly tender from our earlier activities. When I finally crawled into bed, I checked my phone to find several messages from Lillian waiting.

"Hey girl, interested in making some serious cash?" read her first text.

I smiled, picturing Lillian's expression as she typed this. Ever since she'd discovered who Aiden really was—not just my husband but the CEO of Carter Industries—she'd been walking on eggshells around certain topics. Especially money. As if I'd suddenly transformed into some untouchable socialite who'd forgotten what it meant to hustle.

"What kind of cash are we talking about?" I replied, curious despite myself.

Her response came instantly: "The producers of 'Secret Getaways' contacted me. They want you as a special guest for their beach episode. They specifically asked if you'd do a jet ski performance. You know, capitalize on your fifteen minutes of fame."

I raised an eyebrow as I read her follow-up texts.

"They're offering seven figures, Aria. $330,000 for three days of filming. One episode."

"You interested?"

The money was genuinely impressive. More than I'd make in several concert seasons as a pianist. But the thought of cameras following me around, dissecting my every move, made my stomach knot.

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