Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 265

Author's POV

Paul shaking his head at the commotion near the boarding gate. "What's with all that? Is some celebrity really worth the fuss?"

Beside him, Owen sat with his eyes closed, feigning sleep. The guy had perfected the art of ignoring everything around him. Classic Owen.

Paul, unfazed by his friend's typical aloofness, nudged Owen's assistant. "Hey Victoria, recognize that celebrity over there?"

From our angle, we couldn't make out the woman's face clearly. Victoria squinted and shrugged. "Can't see her face from here. No idea who it might be."

"Probably some D-lister if she's only got one fan anyway," Paul scoffed, leaning back in his seat.

The boarding announcement crackled through the speakers, and passengers started gathering their belongings. That's when Paul finally caught a glimpse of the "celebrity's" face.

"Holy shit!" He spun around, slapping Owen's arm excitedly. "Dude, it's someone we know!"

The word "know" seemed to trigger something in Owen. He reluctantly glanced in the direction Paul was pointing, but the woman had already entered the jetway. All he caught was a partial profile and the flutter of a white dress disappearing through the door.

"Whatever," Owen muttered, his voice dripping with disinterest.

Paul's enthusiasm remained undampened. "That gorgeous woman! Don't you remember?"

Owen had clearly forgotten that night entirely. He snorted, "Are 'gorgeous women' so common now that you're spotting them everywhere?"

"How can you be so ungrateful?" Paul shot back, genuinely offended. "That first night you arrived in New York, when you were doubled over in pain? If she hadn't given us a ride to the hospital in her Maserati, you might not even be standing here talking to me!"

"What the hell are you rambling about?" Owen's brow furrowed, irritation flashing across his face.

"Jesus, your memory is terrible," Paul groaned. "Remember when you had that severe stomach pain? I flagged down a car for you mid-route?"

Recognition finally dawned on Owen's face. "And what does that have to do with this supposed celebrity?"

"That WAS her! The kind-hearted woman who drove us to the hospital!"

Something shifted in Owen's expression then. Those usually impassive eyes suddenly showed a flicker of interest.

Noticing he'd finally caught Owen's attention, Paul pressed on. "Looks like she's on our flight."

"And?" Owen asked, his voice deliberately casual despite his obvious curiosity.

"And nothing! I just think we should buy her dinner as a proper thank you," Paul insisted. "Otherwise, I would've had to carry your sorry ass two kilometers that night. Actually, with the state you were in, I probably would've had to sprint!"

He leaned closer to Owen. "Don't you think someone that beautiful with such a kind heart deserves at least a thank you dinner?"

Owen didn't respond verbally, but his silence spoke volumes.

Paul recognized that silence for what it was—tacit permission—and grinned triumphantly. For once, Owen wasn't shutting down his ideas immediately. Progress.

Aria's POV

I'd honestly forgotten all about that night and those two guys, let alone the incident itself.

Summer had booked me a business class seat while she opted for economy. When I tried to upgrade her, she shrugged it off, saying it wasn't necessary for such a short two-hour flight. So here I was in business class, planning to catch up on sleep after a restless night. I figured I'd be in Chicago before I knew it.

The flight was packed today—nearly every seat taken, even in business. As soon as I boarded and settled into my seat, I noticed someone watching me. I could feel eyes on my back but chose to ignore it.

"What a coincidence, the beautiful lady's sitting right in front of me," I heard a male voice say behind me.

I didn't turn around. I wasn't wearing makeup today, but my skin looked decent enough—fair with a natural glow. I knew my features still looked fine without cosmetics, but I wasn't in the mood for small talk with strangers.

My words died as I found myself staring at an unfamiliar man's face.

"Excuse me," I said coolly, "you're blocking my view."

The man looked wounded. "Beautiful lady, don't you remember us?"

I shook my head firmly. "I don't know you."

Hearing this, he immediately pulled another man forward. "But surely you remember him? That night I flagged you down to take him to the hospital!"

That jogged my memory—I did recall being stopped by someone one night.

"Oh, it's you, Mr. Garcia," I said, recognizing him now.

"It is! You helped us out big time, and now running into you again—" He paused, realizing something. "Wait, I don't even know your name! Look, we're not bad guys, just two friends who happened to sit behind you on the plane. What a coincidence, right?"

I now remembered the poke on my arm during the flight. I'd thought it was just someone being annoying.

"I'm Aria," I told him, feeling slightly awkward. "Aria Jones."

"Aria Jones! Beautiful name!" he exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Thanks," I replied simply.

"I'm Paul Garcia," he continued energetically. "You saw my ID that night. And this guy you helped is Owen Duncan. Owen, as in the name, and Duncan like the clan."

Owen Duncan.

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. I studied the second man's face, wondering why I felt I should know more about him than just that night's incident.