Chapter 11: Chapter XI- Lights, Carpets...Chaos
The red carpet glittered like a runway ascending to another universe.
The night air buzzed with flashlights and whispers. This charity event was the talk of the town and it hosted all the elites.
Cameras flashed in a continuous rhythm as black cars glided up to the hotel’s grand entrance, each one spilling out Hollywood’s elite—actors, artistes, moguls, heirs with million-dollar grins.
Paparazzi lined either side like vultures with silver wings, waiting for the next A-lister to step out and bleed beauty for the cameras--But none of them held a candle to what was about to step out of the final sleek, black vehicle.
The door opened—and Ariana emerged.
The reaction was instant.
Every camera turned.
The custom black Versace gown clung to her curves like a whispered secret, the crystals catching every flash of light like stars clinging to her skin. Her hair was swept back in a soft, effortless updo, and a pair of diamond earrings winked with every breath she took. But it was her presence—elegant, fresh, powerful—that made the entire crowd pause.
Ariana looked ethereal. Her diamond choker gleamed at her throat, a perfect complement to the Guerrero ring that sparkled on her finger.
Just ahead, Callum waited at the grand staircase, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored tux. Dressed in a classic black tux, sharp and stunning, he looked every inch the enigma he was.
The second he caught sight of Ariana stepping onto the carpet, time stuttered. Everything shifted.
His breath actually caught. His posture straightened; his jaw softened—just slightly.
She looked unreal. Too radiant. Too perfect.
As she walked toward him, the crowd began to roar. Reporters leaned in. Paparazzi screamed her name. For the first time ever, they weren’t focused on Callum Guerrero.
They were asking: Who is SHE?
He reached out a hand to steady her, his palm warm against her lower back as he leaned in.
“You’re going to start a war looking like that,” he murmured in her ear, his tone low, possessive. “Remind me again why I thought this arrangement was a good idea?”
She looked up at him, a faint, teasing smile on her lips. “Because you needed a woman to make the world believe you're human.”
He chuckled darkly, tugging her closer as the cameras snapped like gunfire. “Careful, fiancee.”
And then he kissed her cheek—slow, deliberate, confirming the passion between them—every flashlight went white.
They ascended the steps arm-in-arm, drowning in a sea of noise and confusion. The press surged closer, questions flying.
The ballroom glittered with elegance. Sparkly crystal chandeliers shone across the crowd casting golden light. Champagne flutes present at every turn, and soft classical music humming under the mix of laughter and polished conversations.
Callum stood tall beside Ariana, his hand warm and possessive at the small of her back. She was radiant in her sleek dress that clung to her curves, her confidence growing with each graceful smile.
“Ariana,” he said, turning slightly. “Let me introduce you to a few important people.”
She followed him through the intimidating crowd.
“This is Mr. Leo Dominic, head of Leo Media and his wife, Prisca, who is also an executive at Leo media.”
Ariana shook their hands, smiling politely.
“Ah,” Dominic said, amused. “So this is the woman who finally made Callum Guerrero leave the bachelor status behind.”
Callum smirked, his arm tightening around her waist. “Told you I wasn’t a complete lost cause.”
“You have a great eye. She’s gorgeous.” Prisca added, eyes flicking over Ariana’s dress. “Gorgeous and grounded. The city will eat up your love story.”
Before Ariana could reply, a sharp voice cut through the ambient chatter. They turned, when the sharp shout split the crowd.
“CALLUM!”
Both their heads whipped toward the voice.
A man pushed through the throng of photographers; his face red with a mischievous smile plastered on it. Security tried to stop him, but he flashed something—press credentials?
The reporter approached, microphone in hand, bold and uninvited.
Callum’s expression hardened instantly. He knew the man was about to stir up some drama that he wasn't ready for. Drama he didn't need. Especially not on his first official outing with Ariana.
Ariana’s stomach dropped. Had they been discovered so soon?
The man held up a photo, printed on glossy paper, waving it like a loaded weapon. The image was grainy—but clear enough.
“Tell me something, Guerrero. Who is she really? And why were you seen leaving the club with Milanna Prestley some weeks ago?”
The crowd went dead quiet.
Callum’s jaw locked.
Ariana froze.
And the camera flashes returned—twice as blinding. Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Microphones surged forward.
Ariana’s fingers went stiff on his arm.
Callum turned to her slowly—his expression unreadable, but his eyes darkened with something she couldn’t understand.
And then he whispered, “Don’t react. Not here.”
Ariana stared at the photo still being waved in the air—and for the first time tonight, she wondered:
What exactly had she agreed to?