Chapter 20: Chapter XX
Ariana sat cross-legged on the suede lounge chair in living room, the late afternoon sun entering through the tall glass windows. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through the headline she had just seen on her phone, her heart sinking with each word.
“Callum Guerrero’s Secret Ties to International Smuggling? Anonymous Hints at explosive Revelations."
The accompanying photo was grainy, but unmistakable. Callum.
Her breath caught. Amidst her thoughts she heard the front door click.
Callum walked in, shrugging out of his tailored blazer, his expression unreadable. He froze mid-step as his eyes met hers. The tension in the room solidified like wet cement.
“Hey” he said simply trying to act normal.
“Hi, are you okay?” Ariana replied, voice low, shaky.
He closed the distance but didn’t sit. “You saw the headline?”
Ariana stood slowly, the phone still in her hand. “Yes, I did. I didn’t really understand most of what I read. Is any of it true?”
“I would rather not talk about business tonight. I’m working on sorting it out.”
“I don’t appreciate being treated like a child.” Ariana’s voice cracked. “You constantly leave me out of the loop of things.”
Callum’s jaw flexed. “You don’t need to know the history.”
“Then tell me why not!” she snapped. “Because from where I’m standing, this doesn’t feel like I’m the one you’re protecting.”
Callum turned away, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t want to lie to you.”
“I think you’re hiding something,” she whispered.
He turned sharply, eyes stormy. “You want the truth? I’m not the saint you think I am. My world is rugged.”
Ariana blinked. “Your world?”
“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry” he said instantly, stepping closer. “You’re…part of my world now.”
“Then why do I feel like the last to know everything?”
He didn’t answer. The silence stretched between them, thick with everything unsaid. She folded her arms, her vulnerability masked by anger.
“What else haven’t you told me, Callum?”
Callum looked at her then, really looked. The sharp edges of his usual bravado softened. “This arrangement started as a performance, Ariana. I told myself that’s all it would be. But you’ve gotten under my skin. I don’t want to see you hurt because of me.”
“You don’t get to decide what hurts me,” she said quietly.
He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a sealed envelope.
“What’s this?” she asked, not moving to open it.
“A flight itinerary. You’re going back to Manhattan.”
Ariana’s eyes widened. “You’re sending me away?”
“I’m protecting you,” he said, firm now. “You’ll be accompanied by two of my security guards. You’ll stay in my apartment in Manhattan until I’ve handled things.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. I will leave but I’ll return to my apartment. At least there I’m at peace.”
Callum’s face hardened. “It’s not a request.”
She stared at him, the disbelief etched into every line of her body. “So I’m just supposed to stay locked up until the scandal clears? Until you decide it’s safe for me to be outside?”
“I decide when this show ends, Ariana. That’s how it works.”
The words struck like a slap. She blinked against the tears rising, swallowing the pain threatening to spill.
“I thought you were different,” she whispered.
Callum’s expression flickered—something like regret—but he turned away before it could settle. “You leave at noon.”
He walked down the hall, the heavy echo of his footsteps drowning out the silence. Ariana stood there, rooted, the envelope trembling in her hand, her vision blurred by tears she didn’t let fall.
And in that hollow, echoing space, something cracked.
...................................................................................
The soft rustle of the ocean waves were the only sounds that greeted Ariana when she opened her eyes.
The morning sun filtered gently through the gauzy curtain fabric, casting golden stripes across the edge of the bed. For a moment, she lay still hoping, absurdly, that it had all been a dream.
But the ache in her chest was too real. Too intense.
She sat up slowly, pressing her palm to her temple. Her head throbbed from restless night she had but that was nothing compared to the knot in her stomach. A knot tied tight with unanswered questions, half-finished moments, and a goodbye that hadn’t come.
She pulled the sheets around herself, staring blankly at the text that came from his friend.
Hey Ariana, your flight is scheduled for 11:45 AM. Security will pick you up and escort you to the airport. Have a safe flight—Julian.
She wondered why the message didn't come from Callum.
There was no single text from him.
She had told herself last night that she didn’t need one. That she could walk away with her dignity intact, head held up high, like the woman she’d fought to become.
As she got dressed in silence, her fingers trembling slightly as she zipped up her bag, Ariana realized dignity didn’t really quiet the storm inside her.
She glanced at his door but didn’t knock.
She told herself she wouldn’t beg to belong to his circle, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart. If he wanted distance, she’d give it to him. But as she stepped into the hallway, her eyes flickered again to his bedroom door.
Closed.
Not locked but not open either.
Her heart ached at the thought that he might be in there, just beyond the barrier, choosing silence over a goodbye. Choosing to let her leave without a word after everything.
Her throat tightened, but she turned away.
The security was already waiting downstairs to escort her. As she stepped into the elevator, the cold chrome doors reflected her back to her—a woman who didn’t look or feel like herself. Not the version who’d stood in his penthouse with a diamond ring on her finger. Not the woman who had kissed him in the soft light of their living room.
This Ariana looked...lonely. Sad. Bruised by hope.