Chapter 15

Orana’s Point of View

“I want to talk to you.”

His voice was lower now, stripped of the formal tone he used in the meeting.

I shut off the tap, grabbed a paper towel, and dried my hands slowly. “We’re done, Callahan.”

I turned, moving to walk past him.

His arm came out, blocking my path, not aggressively, but firmly enough to stop me where I stood.

“You’re wrong.”

I stilled. Something in his tone made me look up.

“Because you’re still my wife,” he continued, his gaze locking onto mine unflinchingly. “In every way that matters.”

My chest tightened, confusion flashing before anger could take its place.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice was calm, yet I was fuming. How dare he think we can be anything more?

His jaw flexed slightly, as if he was bracing for my reaction.

“I never filed the divorce papers. We are still married, Orana.” He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “So, whatever you have with that asshole. Stop”

“We’re still married?” I repeated, shaking my head slowly. “That’s not how this works.”

His gaze stayed locked on me, as if he had already decided this truth, whether I accepted it or not.

“Oh, that’s how this works. You’re still my wife legally,” he smirked. For the first time since I met him, his eyes sparkled.

“Too bad,” I continued, my voice steadier now. “Because I’ll make sure you file them.”

I moved to push past him, but I didn’t get far.

His hand caught my arm, and before I could react, he turned me, pinning me lightly against the sink. The chilly edge pressed into my back, even as his body closed in, blocking any escape.

My breath hitched, heart pounding hard against my chest.

“Let me go,” I said, pressing my hands against his chest.

He didn’t move, but his grip shifted, his hand sliding to my thigh, not rough, but deliberate enough to make my body go still. My pulse spiked, my breath catching as his touch lingered just a second too long.

I hated it.

I hated the way my body reacted before my mind could shut it down, and how I let him touch me.

My fingers tightened against his shirt, pushing harder. “Stop.”

His gaze dropped, dark and intent, watching every reaction I tried to hide. Like he was proving something without saying it out loud, that I fucking belonged to him.

My body betrayed me in the smallest, most infuriating way, and fuck, I wanted him to push his hand further.

He knew exactly how to make my body respond, but that was all it had ever been. In all those years, in all those nights, he had taken me, but never truly seen me.

Never chosen me.

The thought snapped something back into place just as I shoved him hard.

“Don’t touch me!” I snapped, my voice shaking.

He stepped back half a step, but before I could move past him, his hand caught my wrist again, pulling me back. This time, when he kissed me, it wasn’t soft but demanding.

My lungs burned as I pushed against him, turning my face away, fighting the pull of his touch on my skin.

“Stop,” I gasped, shoving him harder than before. “Callahan, stop!”

His forehead nearly brushed mine, his breath uneven, his eyes dark and intense.

“You belong to me,” he said, his voice low. “I won’t stand by and watch someone like Vaughn Carson put his hands on what’s mine.”

Anger flared so fast it burned everything else away.

“I don’t belong to you,” I shot back, my voice rising, my hands pushing against him again, and this time he stepped back.

“You can keep telling yourself that,” he hissed. “But your body…” he trailed off, trying to touch me.

“Don’t,” I warned, my chest heaving.

“Keep lying to yourself, that’s your problem,” he continued. “I just proved what I needed to. Because you want me.” He smirked as if he proved me wrong.

I hated him. I hated how he made me feel things.

I didn’t stop walking until I was far enough down the hallway that I couldn’t feel him behind me anymore.

My hands trembled slightly as I pressed them against my sides, forcing myself to breathe through the tightness in my chest.

And for the first time since stepping into that building, I didn’t know how I was going to walk back into that room and survive it.

My pulse hadn’t settled since the bathroom. My skin still felt too aware.

I reached the door, but it opened before I could touch it. I stepped back in case someone was coming out, but it was Marissa who stepped out.

Her eyes landed on me; her gaze flicked over me as if she had been waiting for this moment.

I didn’t acknowledge her, just moved to walk past her, my hand already reaching for the door, but her fingers wrapped around my wrist.

I froze for half a second. Then I yanked my hand free.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice low but edged enough to cut. I took a step closer, meeting her gaze head-on. “Ever again.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Surprise? But it didn’t last. Her lips curved into a grin, tilting her head to her side as she gave me a once-over.

“You should stay away from Callahan,” she said, her tone sweet in a way that felt anything but that. “He belongs to me.”

I almost laughed. Hers? What was this? Mean girls? Fighting over a man?

I forced a smile, then stepped closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to keep looking at me.

“You can have him,” I mumbled. “I have no interest in a man like Callahan.”

But she didn’t believe me. I could see it in the way her expression tightened, in the way her eyes searched mine like she was looking for a crack.

“I don’t believe that,” she said. “Women like you don’t just walk away from men like him.”

My smile even grew more. She was really delusional. She thinks I would fall to my knees for Callahan.

“I have better things to worry about than Callahan.”

Her expression shifted, clearly irritated.

“Oh?” She tilted her head, her gaze dragging over me slowly. “Like warming your boss’s bed?”

I tilted my head slightly, studying her. “Like you did?” I asked, my voice was just as soft with a smile on my face.

Her hand lifted before I could blink, but it never reached me.

A hand caught her wrist mid-air. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was, but I did anyway, and there Vaughn stood beside me, his grip tight around her wrist, his expression darker than I had ever seen it. There was no calm in him now. No restraint is carefully hidden under control.

Just anger.

“Try that again,” he said, his voice low, steady in a way that made it more dangerous, “and I’ll make sure you don’t have a hand to use.”

For a second, it didn’t sound like he was talking. I have heard him get angry, but this person here wasn’t just angry; there was more to it.

Marissa stiffened, her confidence faltering for the first time. “Let go of me.”

Vaughn didn’t move, just held her wrist tight, her face turning red. Again.

“Let. Go.” Marissa seethed.

“Carson.”

Callahan’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and cold, “Let her go.”

Vaughn’s grip didn’t loosen, but he tilted his head in that dangerous way he always does when he is assessing a business rival.

“She tried to hit Orana,” he said, his tone flat, as if the explanation was enough.

Callahan stepped closer, his gaze flicking briefly to me before settling on Vaughn.

“There must be an explanation.”

My head whipped so fast towards Callahan, I knew that tone. I knew what it meant.

And somehow, after everything, after all these years, it still felt the same.

My chest tightened, something settling under my ribs. Of course, he would defend her. I was the problem; he never defended me. Yet today there was no explanation.

I let out a slow breath, forcing my expression back into calmness before anyone could see the crack.

This right here was exactly why I left.

“Let her go, Vaughn,” I whispered, and he did.