Chapter 64
Chapter 64
The morning passed in slow motion, each minute stretching like taffy as Ariana wandered through the penthouse alone. Callum had returned late the night before, and while he had done his best to explain everything—his trip, Milanna, the photographs—something inside her had shifted. Not entirely broken, but loosened. The unspoken question still dangled between them like a threat: What happens when he gets what he wants? What happens to me?
The question looped in her mind as she sat at the bay window sipping lukewarm coffee. She wasn’t angry. Not anymore. What she felt now was more dangerous—numbness.
She needed air. Autonomy. A sense of control over something, anything.
For the first time in weeks, Ariana put on something that felt like herself—a pair of fitted jeans, a plain tee, and a cardigan. She left the penthouse without alerting Elena or any of the staff, tucking her phone into her bag. She didn’t want to be followed, questioned, or consoled. She just wanted to feel like her again.
Her feet led her downtown without much thought. She passed the familiar coffee shop where she’d first met Callum and allowed herself a bittersweet smile. Life had changed so much, so fast. She wasn’t even sure who she was when she looked in the mirror anymore. Everything revolved around him.
For the next couple of hours, she simply wandered. Through the park, past flower stalls and bookstores, into shops she couldn’t afford a month ago. No one recognized her, no cameras followed. She was free, if only for a little while. And the silence in her mind was a welcome relief.
⸻
By early evening, Callum stepped into the penthouse, tension heavy in his shoulders. The house was quiet. Elena had mentioned Ariana had gone out alone, and while she returned safely, she hadn’t said much since. That silence scared him more than her rage ever could.
He found her in the kitchen, barefoot, prepping dinner as if everything were normal. The quiet clinks of utensils, the low hum of music from her phone, the way she didn’t immediately turn to him—all of it told him something was wrong.
“Ariana,” he said, setting his keys on the counter.
She looked up. Her smile was polite. Distant. “Hey. You’re home.”
His brows furrowed. “You okay?”
She nodded, too quickly. “Just thought I’d cook tonight. Something simple.”
He walked around the island and reached for her hand, stopping her slicing. “You’re not fine.”
She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it gently. “Callum, please.”
“No,” he said softly. “Talk to me.”
She paused, finally setting the knife down. “I just needed some air. Some space to think.”
“About what?”
“About everything that’s going on. I have a lot I need to figure out.”
He stiffened, jaw twitching. “Because of the photos?”
“That’s not all but it’s part of it.” she said. “But it’s more than that. You’re building an empire, Callum. You’re fighting off threats and negotiating power. Where do I fit in once it’s all settled?”
“You fit with me,” he said, his voice rough. “You are the thing that makes it all matter.”
Ariana blinked back the sudden burn in her eyes. “But you’ve never said that. Not really. I get half-truths, late nights, and danger I didn’t ask for.”
“I told you I’d protect you.”
“And I don’t want to be something you protect,” she said sharply. “I want to be something you choose. Over and over. Even when it’s messy. Even when it’s inconvenient.”
Silence fell between them like a blade.
Callum swallowed hard, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I’m trying, Ariana.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But trying isn’t always enough.”
He moved closer, his voice low. “Then let me prove it.”
His lips were on hers before she could stop him, and the kiss was nothing like before. It wasn’t soft or questioning. It was desperate, hungry—a plea buried in touch.
Her hands found his shoulders, his jaw. He backed her against the counter, lifting her onto it with ease as her thighs wrapped around his waist. Their bodies met like magnets—familiar and fiery. He groaned against her mouth, letting his fingers trail beneath her shirt, up her back.
Her breath hitched as he kissed down her jaw, neck, collarbone. She arched into him, needing to feel him, to forget for a moment how uncertain everything else was.
“Say you still want this,” he murmured against her skin.
“I do,” she gasped. “But I need more than this.”
Callum froze, forehead pressed against her sternum.
She slid down from the counter, adjusting her clothes. “I need time, Callum. Just a few days. To think. To feel like myself again.”
His eyes met hers, conflicted and aching. “You want to leave?”
“I want to stay at my old apartment for a little. Just… to breathe.”
“I can come with you if you just need a change of scenery to something more familiar .”
“No,” she said gently. “That’s the point. I need to know who I am when you’re not in the room. I just need to feel like my old self again.”
He took a long breath. “And if I say no?”
She tilted her head. “Then I’ll know your answer.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He wanted to fight it—fight her—but he also knew she was right. He couldn’t make her stay with promises he hadn’t fully figured out how to keep.
“Okay,” he said finally. “But promise me that you would come back to me.”
“I’ll try.” She said trying to hold back the tears already pooling in her eyes.
A beat of silence passed before her phone vibrated on the counter. She glanced at the screen. A message from a blocked number.
She read it—and paled.
Callum saw the shift in her expression. “What is it?”
She turned the screen toward him. A single text glared back:
“You should’ve stayed in Dallas, Ariana. You’re in too deep now.”
His eyes darkened. “Pack a bag. You’re not going anywhere alone.”
“But—”
“No.” His voice turned to steel. “This changes everything.”
“No I’m still going to leave. Please don’t try to stop me.” With that she left to her room to pack her bags.