Chapter 55

Chapter 55
The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, painting sharp gold lines across the marble floor. Callum stood alone in his office, hands braced against the edge of the mahogany desk, staring out at the Manhattan skyline but seeing nothing.

Julian’s voice still echoed in his head.

"You’re seriously considering going to her?"
"If she thinks I’m breaking ranks, maybe she’ll loosen her grip.”
"Or maybe she’ll tighten it—and strangle both of you.”

The logic was brutal, but it made sense. This wasn’t just about him anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. With Ariana now in the mix, with Charlie here and the Prestley threats turning from shadows to sharp blades—it was time to get ahead of it.

Still, the thought of Milanna made his gut twist. She was too close to everything that had once made him weak. And she knew it.

“Callum” Julian said from the doorway, arms folded. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tone dry but firm. “You’ve been standing there for twenty minutes. Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

Callum turned, eyes darker than usual. “I’m thinking.”

“You’re dancing with a fucking viper.”

“I know.”

Julian stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “She’s always had an angle, and she’s always had a weakness for you. You’re giving her the opening she’s been waiting for.”

Callum leaned back against the desk. “Which is exactly why it might work. If she thinks I’m entertaining the idea of a truce—maybe more—she might start talking. I need to know what her father wants before he moves again.”

“And what if she tests you?” Julian asked, voice dropping. “What if she tries to use that weakness against you again? You really think Ariana’s going to understand you playing this close to fire?”

Callum didn’t answer. He looked down at his phone, spinning it once in his hand. His thumb hovered over the contact.

Milanna Prestley.

He hated that her number was still saved. He hated more that he knew she would answer on the first ring.

Julian sighed. “If you’re going to do it, do it clean. No emotions. No hesitation.”

“I know.”

“She’ll see through it if you’re not careful.”

“She’ll see through it either way,” Callum muttered. Then, more decisively, “But I’ll give her just enough to think she’s winning.”

He exhaled slowly, steeling himself.

Julian nodded once and turned for the door. “Just… don’t come back with scars.”

When Callum was alone again, he hit the dial.

The line barely rang once.

“Callum,” Milanna answered smoothly, her tone dipped in velvet and poison. “I wondered how long it would take for you to realize who your real allies are.”

“I want to talk,” he said flatly.

“Oh?” Her voice purred with satisfaction. “That sounds like the beginning of something very interesting.”

“Just the beginning,” he replied, his voice unreadable.

“Where?”

“I’ll text you.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

The line went dead.

Callum stared at the phone a moment longer, jaw clenched.

He didn’t like playing games. But this wasn’t just a game anymore.

It was survival.

The city glistened under the dim golden haze of dusk as Callum leaned against the tinted window of his sleek black car, fingers drumming against the leather interior. His jaw was tight, unreadable, but his eyes betrayed the storm inside. The phone call had been short—deliberately vague. Milanna agreed to meet. She didn’t ask questions. That alone told him she had her suspicions.

Julian’s words from earlier echoed in his mind. “You’re playing with fire, Callum. If she catches on…”
He had cut him off with a look. This was a move he had to make—calculated, dangerous, but necessary.

The venue was a secluded rooftop lounge in a private high-rise, one of Milanna’s father’s less-public properties. Opulent. Gated. Secure.

She was already there when he arrived.

Draped in a crimson silk red dress that clung to her body like it had been painted on, Milanna sat in a curved velvet chair, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of wine poised delicately in her hand. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I was beginning to think you changed your mind,” she said, voice honeyed with mock sweetness.

“I never said I wouldn’t come,” he replied, shrugging off his coat. “You wanted to talk.”

“I wanted a lot of things. And some of them… you used to give me.”

Callum didn’t flinch. “That was a long time ago.”

Milanna rose and walked toward him, slow, deliberate, predatory. “I see the tabloids. I see her. Do you love her?”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Ariana,” he said evenly.

“But you did come,” Milanna whispered, brushing her fingers along the lapel of his jacket. “That says something, doesn’t it?”

Callum caught her hand mid-movement and gently pushed it away. “It says I’m willing to talk.”

“To negotiate?” she asked, lips curving.

“To understand what your father really wants,” Callum said, cutting through the tension. “And how I can give it to him without anyone else getting hurt.”

She laughed, head tilting back just slightly. “You’re smart, Callum. But not smarter than him. You think offering yourself—your loyalty—will make him spare your pretty little girlfriend?”

Callum’s eyes hardened. “You’re saying she’s a target.”

Milanna leaned in close, lips nearly brushing his ear. “I’m saying everyone’s a target. Especially the ones you don’t protect fast enough.”

There was a long pause. She circled him like a snake, calculating.

“You can stop this,” she continued. “Let me be the one beside you, like we were meant to be. You’re still his best bet. You always were. He’ll listen to me… if I tell him we’re back together.”

Callum studied her in silence, expression unreadable. He walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink. The whiskey burned, but he needed the edge.

“I need time,” he said finally, turning back to her. “If I play this wrong, people get hurt.”

“Play it right,” Milanna said, approaching him once more. “And I’ll make sure you’re rewarded. In all the ways you remember.”

She reached up, fingers trailing along his chest. Her perfume was intoxicating, familiar. For a second, a flicker of their past threatened to cloud his focus. But he blinked it away.

Still, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He let her lean in… close enough that her breath touched his lips. Her dress shifted as she stood on her toes.

The scene faded as the lights dimmed from the rooftop lounge. Outside, the city buzzed on, unaware.