Chapter 12: Chapter XII

The rest of the night was filled with silence. They didn’t speak for the rest of the gala.

Callum’s hand remained firmly at Ariana’s lower back, guiding her through the crowd with all the confidence of a man who hadn’t just been accused—publicly of hiding secrets. His expression was cool, unreadable, and every step he took seemed calculated. Controlled.

Ariana matched his stride. Smiled when the cameras turned and laughed on cue. She played her part like a pro, but inside, her thoughts spun like a tornado. She felt betrayed even though she had no reason to feel that way.

Her skin still tingled from the touch of his lips earlier, but now it felt like an echo—distant and false.

They barely made it an hour before Callum leaned down and murmured, “We’re leaving.”

She didn’t argue. She wanted to be away from all the prying eyes.

The car ride back to the penthouse was silent, heavy with unsaid things. Ariana didn’t speak until the door closed behind them and they were back within the confines of their suite.

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse, silent and sleek. Ariana stepped in first, her heels clicking across the marble floor as fast as she could. Not a word, not a glance. She made a straight line for the room they agreed she'd stay in.

Callum followed a few steps behind.

"Ariana," he said, low and calmly.

She paused, fingers curling around the door handle. "I’m tired, Callum. I just want to sleep. We can talk in the morning."

“No,” he said. “You want to escape. There’s a difference.”

She turned slowly, her eyes flashing. “I don’t want to argue. Not tonight.”

“I’m not here to argue,” he replied, walking toward her. “But I’m also not letting you walk away without hearing the truth. We can't start off like this.”

Ariana folded her arms tightly across her chest, bracing herself.

“The picture was clear for everyone to see.” she said, voice quiet but sharp. “You and that lady. Weeks before I came into this arrangement. You looked comfortable with her.”

Callum exhaled. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Wow! You really can't be serious.” she snapped. “Please don’t give me that line.” Ariana laughed. “Do you have any idea how cliché that sounds?”

“She came to my club that night and we got talking,” he said. “We’ve had history in the past but it was never anything serious. I had a lot of my mind that day and decided to indulge her. That picture? It was a setup, a press leak to stir speculation. Her name is Milanna Prestley, she’s a gossip blogger so I’m sure she set this up. I will get to the bottom of this.”

Ariana's expression didn’t change.

“I didn’t ask for your past, I certainly don't want to know about the women you've been with.” she said, her voice softer now. “I just didn’t want to be humiliated.”

Callum closed the distance between them, but didn’t reach for her.

“There's nothing between me and her. I don’t want her.” he said, steady and sincere. “Not now. Not then. And definitely not when we've agreed to do this.”

That made her roll her eyes. He saw it—the flicker of doubt in her eyes, like a wall she was no longer sure she wanted to keep up.

A beat of silence passed.

Ariana blinked, and for the first time in hours, the fire behind her eyes dimmed. She hadn’t expected all this. Not from him.

Callum stepped closer, gently taking her hand. “I should have told you. You deserve better than to be blindsided in front of the entire city. I'm sorry.”

Ariana studied him—this powerful, guarded man who somehow made her feel more alive than anyone ever had. Her voice trembled, softer than a whisper. “You’re right. I do.”

But she didn’t pull away.

She let his fingers stay laced with hers. Let the silence breathe around them.

For now.

Callum didn’t stop her when she pulled her hand away.

Ariana stepped back, her expression unreadable now—cool and calm in a way that didn’t match the storm still simmering in her chest.

“I need space,” she said, quietly. “I need some time to process things. Just for tonight.”

Callum's countenance fell, but he nodded. “Alright.”

She turned before he could say more, walking swiftly toward her bedroom. The penthouse seemed too big all of a sudden—too quiet, too intimidating, too much.

She shut the door behind her with a gentle click and leaned against it, exhaling a shaky breath. She wanted to cry but she willed herself not to.

She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that photo with Milanna meant nothing, that what they had wasn’t as tangled as it felt. But how could she, when everything between them was blurred lines and half-truths?

Their relationship was complicated. She knew she didn’t have the right to make demands from him but at the same time if she need to be part of this façade, he needed to at least respect her.

Meanwhile, Callum remained in the living room, staring out at the California skyline. His reflection in the glass looked tired. Hardened. Alone.

He had gone into countless negotiations stronger than this—but one woman, one night, and one look from Ariana had unraveled him in ways he didn’t understand.

His phone buzzed.

Julian: We have an issue.

Callum cursed under his breath. That was possibly the wrongest timing for such a message.

He looked back at the hallway where she’d disappeared. Then turned back to his phone and typed:

Callum: Handle what you can. I’ll be back tomorrow.

He didn’t sleep that night.

And Ariana, alone in the other room, didn’t either.