Chapter 22: Chapter XXII

The penthouse was too quiet. Lonely.

He was used to being by himself but today seemed cold. Like Ariana left with the warmth he had been feeling recently.

Callum stood by his room window, watching Ariana’s black SUV disappear beyond the iron gates. The sky was gloomy, a wash of gray like the mood clinging to his skin. He clenched his jaw, forcing his thoughts to wander elsewhere. Compartmentalizing the situation was the only thing that had ever kept him from spiraling.

It didn’t see possible today, it wasn’t working.

He turned, the echo of her footsteps still fresh in the hallway behind him. The soft click of her heels. The pause at the door when she was about to leave and didn’t look back. He had watched her through the CCTV footage on his phone. She’d been hurt—he saw it in her eyes, in the way she walked so slowly out of the house and the sad look on her face in the elevator.

She was stronger than he gave her credit for.

And he hated himself for sending her away. For being the reason she was sad.

He reminded himself that he was protecting her but it still didn’t do anything for the ache he was feeling in his chest.

Callum ran a hand down his face and poured himself a drink—whiskey, no ice. It burned going down, but not nearly enough. The truth was, this whole situation happened so fast. He didn’t expect Milanna to go through on her threats.

When Julian had first proposed an “arranged relationship” to meet his grandfather’s demands and public scrutiny, it had seemed like a calculated move. One he could easily control.

Ariana had been an available answer to a complicated PR problem.

But now?

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked at him—like she saw him for him and not because of he was a Guererro. Like she wanted to know the man behind the money, the name, the façade.

Maybe that was the most dangerous part.

Because if he kept her too close, she’d find out what he kept buried for years, beneath years of control—how much it cost to keep the Guerrero name clean. How every move he made was shadowed by family expectations, by his constant imperfections, by the dangerous power plays of people like Mr. Prestley, Milanna’s dad.

He hated how Milanna still had this kind of power over him. One phone call, one threat, and suddenly his world was upside down.

He thought of her sister—how fiercely Ariana had fought to protect her. That same fire now fueled the rage curling in his gut. He wanted to burn down everything Milanna had built on lies and manipulation. He was going to.

His phone buzzed.

Julian: She’s home safe. We should talk again soon. I have some Information on the shipment deal that went south. I will be at your apartment in a few minutes.

Callum’s hand tightened around the glass, almost cracking it at the rim.

He was tired of playing games with these people.

He had just sacrificed the one woman who made him feel human again to protect her from it.

He exhaled sharply and paced the length of the penthouse living room, then stopped in front of Ariana’s room. It was empty now—her scent faint in the air, her scarf still draped over the armchair. It was a reminder that she actually was here.

He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the doorframe.

What the hell was he doing?

He didn’t send her away because she was in danger.

He sent her away because he couldn’t think straight with her around. The thought of anything happening to her would send him into a frenzy.

The way she challenged him. The way she made him want things—simple things like peace, and warmth, and honesty. She made him forget to be strategic. With Ariana, he didn’t feel like Callum Guerrero, heir and mighty.

He just felt like a man. Like he had someone that genuinely cared about him.

A man who wanted her smile, her laughter, her trust.

And he was blowing it.

A knock on the front door snapped him from his thoughts. He looked to see who it was and it was Julian.

Callum opened it, letting him in with a nod.

“Are you okay man, you look like you were hit by something ” Julian said, matter-of-fact.

“Yeah.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “You sure this is the right call?”

“No,” Callum admitted. “But it’s the only one I could make without getting her hurt.”

“You think she’s safer in Manhattan? You know Milanna plays dirty. She’ll use Ariana either way.”

Callum looked away. “Then we’ll make sure she doesn’t. I'm tired of doing this with her. I'm going to clip her wings.”

Julian let out a sigh. “You really do care about her.”

There was no use denying it now. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then stop treating her like a liability. You’re going to push her away. That girl is far too innocent.”

Callum’s eyes snapped to his Julian’s. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you’re scared,” Julian said evenly. “You’ve always controlled every move you make. But Ariana? She’s not a chess piece. If you need her to be your queen, you have to stop playing like she’s dispensable.”

Callum didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Instead, he stared out the window again, wishing he could stop wondering if she cried on the flight home.

He knew he should have said goodbye before she left but he couldn’t get himself to. He would have asked her to stay if he did but he knew he was making the right call.

He had more men there to look after things for him.

He needed to speak to her. Would she still be interested in speaking to him though?”