Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 309

Aria's POV

"Mr. Duncan," I replied, surprised to see him here of all places. "My car just... died on me."

"This rain is brutal. Come wait in my car—my secretary can handle this." His eyes took in my drenched appearance with a hint of concern.

"That's really not necessary," I protested. "The tow truck should be here any minute—" A sudden sneeze interrupted me, completely undermining my argument. I sniffled, mortified, and lowered my voice. "Really, I'm fine."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I bite?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why do you always look terrified when you see me?"

I felt my face flush with embarrassment. "I don't!"

The truth was I just didn't feel we knew each other well enough for this kind of favor, but I couldn't say that out loud.

"Get in my car and let my secretary handle this," he insisted. "Unless you think a young woman should stand alone in a storm?"

"I just—"

"You'll catch pneumonia at this rate."

The cold was seeping deeper now, and I finally relented. I'd helped him once at the hospital—we could call this even.

Once in his Maybach, Owen instructed his secretary to wait for the tow truck. "Where can I drop you?" he asked.

When I gave him my address, he looked surprised. "What a coincidence."

"You live there too?" I asked, blinking.

"Not regularly. I visit on weekends sometimes."

"Oh." I didn't pry further.

He handed me a soft towel. "Here."

"Thanks." I dabbed at my face, suddenly aware of how bedraggled I must look.

Owen studied me for a moment before instructing his driver to turn up the heat.

"You don't need to—I'm not cold, really..."

"Your pants and shoes are soaked through."

I glanced down at my once-white sneakers, now thoroughly drenched. He was right.

As we pulled up to my villa, I thanked him profusely.

"Add me on I*******m," he suggested, unlocking his phone. "My secretary might need to contact you about your car."

"Oh! Right, sorry."

"Change into dry clothes and have something warm to drink. Don't catch a cold."

"Thank you, really."

He made a small sound of dismissal. "If you feel that indebted, you can buy me dinner sometime."

I considered it for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough. I genuinely appreciate your help today."

When I heard the front door open, Lucy immediately rose from the sofa and hurried to the entryway.

"Mrs. Carter, I've prepared hot cocoa for you," she said, eyeing my dripping wet hair with concern.

"Thank you, Lucy. I'll take a shower first," I replied, grateful for her thoughtfulness.

"Hurry up before you catch cold," she urged.

"Sounds perfect," I agreed, not particularly picky about food.

A yawn escaped me as fatigue settled in my bones. I decided to head back to our bedroom upstairs. The rain continued to drum against the windows, creating a soothing rhythm in the dimly lit room with the curtains only partially drawn.

Remembering I'd just added Owen Duncan on I*******m, I reached for my phone to check out his profile. He didn't post much—mostly luxury cars and landscapes. His feed suggested he used the platform more as a communication tool than for personal sharing.

When I accidentally liked one of his rare selfies, I quickly tapped to unlike it, hoping he hadn't noticed. Almost instantly, a message popped up: "I saw that."

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Before I could respond, my phone vibrated with an incoming call—Aiden again. My heart skipped a beat as I answered.

"Miss me already?" I teased.

His voice came through deeper than before. "Always. Meeting got canceled. I'm stuck at the office until this rain lets up."

"Poor baby," I murmured, settling back against the pillows. "The house feels empty without you."

"Does it now?" Something in his tone shifted. "What are you doing right now?"

I glanced down at myself, wrapped in a silk robe after my shower. "Just lying in bed, listening to the rain."

"What are you wearing?" The question sent a shiver down my spine.

"That blue silk robe you like," I replied, my voice dropping lower.

I heard him exhale slowly. "The one that slips off your shoulders?"

"That's the one." I smiled into the phone, letting my fingers trail along the edge of the fabric.

"Is it still tied properly?" His voice had taken on that commanding edge that made my pulse quicken.

"For now," I whispered, already feeling warmth pool in my belly.

"Untie it," he ordered softly. "I want you to touch yourself and pretend it's my hands on you."