Chapter 42

Back at the Penthouse, they barely made it through the door before his lips found hers again. Her shoes slipped off as he backed her toward the bedroom. Jackets fell. Buttons opened. Hands explored like they’d waited far too long for permission.

When he pushed her onto the bed and climbed over her, Ariana whispered, “Callum...”

He stilled, eyes dark and intense, breathing hard.

She looked up at him, fingers brushing his jaw. “I don’t want you to stop.”

He closed his eyes.

Then slowly leaned down and kissed her again—soft this time, lingering.

“I want you, Ariana,” he murmured. “So much it hurts.”

“Then why—”

“Because when it happens…” he pressed his forehead against hers, “I want it to be more than this night. Not a reaction. Not a distraction.”

She swallowed. “You make it very hard to wait but I understand.”

“I know,” he said, brushing her hair from her face. “But I’d rather wait than lose the one thing in my life that feels real right now.”

She curled closer to him under the sheets, her head resting on his chest, his heart thudding beneath her ear. There were still so many things to figure out. So many battles waiting outside.

But in this moment—this pause in the storm—they just held on.

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

Soft morning light poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Callum Guerrero’s master bedroom, painting the sheets in gentle hues of gold and cream. The skyline of Manhattan sprawled beyond the glass, a quiet contrast to the storm that had settled in both their lives.

Ariana stretched beneath the silk sheets, still cocooned in warmth, her eyes fluttering open to take in the sight of Callum’s bedroom for the first time in daylight. Everything about the space felt like him—sleek, masculine, and meticulous. Charcoal walls, brushed steel accents, and a shelf of leather-bound books arranged with precise elegance. It was curated and controlled, and yet there was a sense of comfort in it.

She turned her head slowly to look at him. Callum was propped up against the tufted headboard, shirtless, his laptop on his lap, a mug of black coffee in one hand. There was something quietly domestic about it—like this moment didn’t belong to the world outside. Just them. Together.

“This room is so... intimidatingly perfect,” Ariana murmured, eyes sweeping across the minimal yet expensive-looking decor. “Do you sleep in a museum?”

Callum glanced down at her, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Only when I have company worth impressing.”

She laughed, tucking a hand under her cheek. “You’ve never let anyone stay here with you before, have you?”

“Not to sleep,” he admitted without hesitation, voice low.

Heat crept up her neck, and she bit her bottom lip, a little breathless from how easily he could disarm her. Callum reached over and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I liked waking up next to you,” he added, almost quietly.

Before she could respond, his eyes shifted back to the laptop—and darkened.

The mood shifted immediately.

“What is it?” Ariana asked, sitting up slightly, drawing the sheets to her chest.

Callum didn’t answer at first. He just turned the screen toward her. A headline from a tabloid site blared across the screen:

"Guerrero’s Secret Wife? Mystery Woman Caught Kissing Nightclub Kingpin"

Below it, a carousel of grainy photos: Ariana grinding on Callum at the club. Their kiss. Their smiles. Her hand in his.

Ariana’s heart dropped. “Oh my God.”

“Someone sold the photos,” Callum muttered. “Probably someone inside the club.”

She sat up straighter, pulse racing. “This... this was supposed to be under the radar. I thought—”

“We were in public. With a hundred eyes on us. I should’ve known better,” he said through gritted teeth.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He picked it up, recognizing the number immediately.

“Julian,” he said, answering with a sharp tone. “I’ve seen it.”

A pause. Ariana couldn’t hear Julian’s voice, but she could tell from the hardening of Callum’s jaw that it wasn’t a pleasant call.

“I don’t need a lecture right now,” Callum snapped, rising from bed and walking toward the windows.

More silence. Then: “No, I didn’t plan for that photo to get out. Yes, I know exactly what it looks like.”

His voice dropped, more serious now. “I don’t care how pissed Milanna is.”

Ariana’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of her name.

Callum closed his eyes briefly, running a hand through his hair. “You think her father will see this?”

Another pause.

“Damn it,” Callum muttered, ending the call with a tight swipe.

He turned slowly, and Ariana didn’t miss the flash of conflict behind his usually unreadable expression.

“What did he say?” she asked carefully.

Callum stared at her for a moment, as if weighing how much truth to offer. “Julian thinks this makes things messier. That we just handed the Prestleys a reason to even be more enraged.”

Her throat tightened. “Because we kissed?”

“Because we made it real, public.” he said, stepping closer. “In their world, everything is strategic. Every relationship. Every headline. That photo makes it look like you matter to me in a way I didn’t intend for them to know.”

“And do I?” she asked, voice soft but direct.

Callum paused, eyes searching hers. “Yes.”

That single word landed between them with so much weight, Ariana didn’t know whether to feel warmed or terrified.

“But it’s complicated,” he added quickly, and her heart dipped again. “Milanna’s father isn’t someone you want to antagonize. This article could feel like a slap in the face to him. Especially if Milanna’s already trying to convince him we’re provoking her.”

Ariana swallowed hard. “What does that mean for us?”

Callum looked torn, his hand curling into a fist at his side. “It means I need to clean this up before they think they have the right to retaliate.”

“So what do I do?”

He sat back down on the edge of the bed, head in his hands for a beat, before glancing over at her. “You stay out of it. You let me handle them. No more surprises. No more club nights for now. We just need to be careful.”

Her heart twisted. “So I just pretend that didn’t happen?”

Callum looked at her then, something soft and pained in his expression. “I’m not saying what we have isn’t real. I’m saying the timing is dangerous.”

She nodded slowly, trying to hide how much that hurt.

“I’m going to fix this,” he said, reaching out to brush his thumb along her jaw. “I just need to move carefully.”

Ariana gave him a small nod, but the truth had already sunk in. Last night, they burned too brightly. And now, the smoke was drawing wolves to their door.