Chapter 40

Ariana paced the length of the guest room, the soft rustle of her feet against the hardwood floor the only sound in the quiet apartment. Outside the window, the New York skyline shimmered beneath a thick curtain of stars, but it brought her no comfort tonight.

Her thoughts kept returning to Callum. She wondered how he was really doing.

She’d been trying to focus on her sister’s upcoming transfer, on coordinating with the hospital staff, but something had shifted. Her mind kept drifting between different things. Since the courthouse wedding and the unexpected tenderness they’d shared that night, Callum had been a little distant. Not in the cold, dismissive way he’d been when they first met—but in that tight-lipped, heavy-shouldered way that told her he was keeping something locked up.

And that silence was beginning to wear on her.

She sank onto the couch, grabbing the throw blanket and curling it around her legs. Her phone buzzed again. Another update from the logistics company about Charlie’s air transfer plans, this time confirming the medical jet for the weekend. She should’ve felt relief. But instead, anxiety clawed at her ribs.

Earlier, she’d passed Callum’s study and heard Julian’s voice on the speakerphone—sharp, urgent. Something about a “shipment,” and “California,” and “Emilio finally giving some good intel.” She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the names and clipped tone stayed with her. She’d gone cold the moment she heard Milanna's name whispered.

She pulled the blanket tighter.

She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but too many things weren’t adding up. His sudden silences, the surge in security details around the building, the curt nods exchanged between Callum and Julian as if every moment carried a hidden code.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. One of the staff, a kind woman named Elena, peeked in.

“Miss Ariana? I thought you might like some tea or something to drink. You’ve been in here a while.”

Ariana smiled, grateful for the small kindness. “Thank you. That sounds lovely. I’ll have some tea.”

As Elena stepped inside with the tray, Ariana studied her quietly.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” she said, her voice softer than usual.

“Of course not. Go ahead.”

“You’ve been working with the Guerreros for a while now, haven’t you?”

Elena nodded. “Almost seven years.”

Ariana hesitated, fingers curled around the porcelain tea cup. “Do you… think Callum is a good person?”

Elena looked surprised at the question but didn't flinch. “Mr. Callum is… quite complicated. But he’s loyal to the people he cares about. Fiercely so. That makes him good, in my book. Even if he might appear more dangerous than most.”

That last line hung heavy in the air.

More dangerous than most.

Ariana looked down into her cup, the lemon slice bobbing against the rim. “Thank you,” she whispered.

When Elena left, Ariana rose and wandered toward the balcony. Cool air kissed her cheeks, calming her nerves for a fleeting second. Below, black SUVs lined the curb—more than usual. Callum was out. Probably with Julian. And from what she overheard, they were about to cross a dangerous line.

She leaned on the railing, her mind racing. She didn’t want to spy. She didn’t want to doubt him.

But she needed to understand.

If she was going to stay in this world—if she was going to be his wife, even if on paper—then she had to know what kind of storm she was walking into.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Ariana didn’t move. She didn’t turn around.

But her resolve was beginning to harden.

She would ask the hard questions. She would stop pretending she didn’t notice the cracks in the polished walls of Callum Guerrero’s life.

And if the time ever came when she had to choose between saving her heart or saving herself and her sister, she prayed she’d know what to do.

.....................................

The hum of the elevator echoed softly through the penthouse as Callum stepped inside, Julian trailing a few paces behind. Neither man spoke much on the ride up. The warehouse encounter had confirmed one thing—Milanna’s father, Charles Prestley, had begun making strategic moves again. Calculated, quiet ones. The kind that started wars with whispers and ended them in blood.

Callum’s jaw tightened at the thought of Ariana. She didn’t know the extent of the danger she was brushing up against. Not yet. But she would, and when that time came, she had to be ready.

He shoved the keycard into the door, and the moment the lock clicked open, he inhaled. Lavender. It was the scent that always seemed to hover around Ariana. Soothing. Disarming. A contradiction to the storm churning in his chest.

Ariana stood by the window, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She turned at the sound of the door but said nothing. Callum could read her eyes before she even spoke—guarded curiosity, relief...and that same gnawing fear that hadn’t left her since she returned from Manhattan.

“I was wondering when you’d get back,” she said quietly.

“I know. Sorry. We had to follow up on something important,” Callum replied, stepping inside.

Julian, sensing the shift in mood, gave her a small nod. “Ariana,” he greeted, then turned to Callum. “I’ll head out. Call me when you’re ready.”

Callum nodded. The door clicked behind him, leaving them alone.

Ariana turned back to the window. “So... warehouse business?”

Callum hesitated before answering. “Yes. And no. It’s more complicated than that.”

She turned back toward him, finally walking over and folding her arms again. “I’m tired of being the one left in the dark, Callum.”

He softened. “I know. And you’ve been patient—more than I deserve. But the things I’m handling right now are dangerous.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she said, her voice rising a notch. “I might not have grown up in your world, but I’m not stupid. I see the looks. I hear the whispers. I know what people think when they see us together.”

He looked at her, eyes hardening. “What do they say?”

“They say I don’t belong,” she said, her voice breaking despite herself. “That I’m temporary. A placeholder. The girl you plucked from the street for show.”

Callum stepped forward, gently gripping her shoulders. “Then they don’t know anything about you.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if I do,” she whispered.

They stood in silence, their breaths mingling in the short distance between them. Finally, she spoke again.

“Did something happen tonight?”

Callum’s hand dropped from her shoulder. “Yes. Emilio talked. He gave us something... a location, a time, and a name.”

“Whose name?”

“Charles Prestley.”

Ariana blinked. “Milanna’s father?”

Callum nodded. “He’s behind the leak. And worse, he’s not doing it for Milanna. He has his own motives. Political ones. Financial ones. Power plays.”

“And I’m... part of that play?” she asked.

“You are now,” Callum said bluntly. “By association. But that’s why we’re going to take control of this story, Ariana. Together.”

She exhaled slowly. “You’re not sending me away again?”

“No,” he said. “Unless you ask me to.”

For the first time since he walked in, she stepped closer willingly. “I don’t want to be protected, Callum. I want to be part of this. I want to understand it.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Then we’ll go over everything. No more secrets.”

Their moment was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. Callum glanced down.

Unknown number.

He picked up. “Yeah?”

A heavily disguised voice answered. “Your pretty little act is unraveling. Watch your back, Guerrero. Tick-tock.”

The line went dead.

Callum’s grip tightened around the phone. Ariana stepped forward again, concern in her eyes.

“What is it?”

He didn’t answer right away. He stared out the window behind her—into the glittering expanse of a city that never truly slept, a city where power was a game, and trust was a luxury.

Finally, he looked at her.

“It’s starting.”