Chapter 9

Orana’s Point of View

My fingers tightened slightly in Vaughn’s hand, but I didn’t turn right away. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t ready to give that moment or that power.

For a second, everything else blurred, the music, the voices, the soft glow of chandeliers overhead. My gaze locked onto him like it had been trained to, like muscle memory refusing to fade. He looked the same. The kind of man who never lets anything slip.

But his eyes weren’t calm; something dark flickered, they narrowed, staring hard at me.

They moved over me slowly, deliberately, starting at my face before dragging down the length of my body. The black dress suddenly felt heavier under his gaze.

His eyes drifted from me to where Vaughn’s hand rested against my bare back, and his other hand was holding my hand. For anyone else, it looked like we were a couple, but I knew better.

His eyes traveled to Vaughn’s face, who was just holding my hand. He looked calm, but I saw something flicker in his eyes. Jealousy? Anger? I saw it in the tightening of his jaw, the way his shoulders squared like he was bracing for something.

He moved toward us without even looking at Marissa while she was standing there.

Each step was slow and measured, but there was nothing casual about it. People shifted out of his way without realizing why, like instinct told them not to stand between him and whatever he wanted.

“Orana.” He breathed

My name sounded different in his voice than it used to. Rougher. Like it had been dragged through something sharp before it reached his lips.

I didn’t step back, and I didn’t lean into Vaughn either. I wondered how this would go down. The day I finally met him, I never expected to hear my name from his lips.

I just stood there, lifting my chin slightly as he stopped in front of us, a smile curving up on my lips.

“Callahan,” I replied, my tone calmer than what was coursing through my veins.

His eyes narrowed just slightly at that. Like he’d expected something else, something softer.

He didn’t acknowledge Vaughn at first. His attention stayed fixed on me like Vaughn wasn’t even there, like the hand at my back didn’t exist, like the last five years hadn’t happened.

“London,” he said, voice low and calm. “You’ve been there this entire time?”

He realized that. Was Vaughn the reason why he guessed London?

I let a small pause settle between us, just long enough to make it clear I wasn’t rushing to answer him anymore.

“Yes,” I said simply.

His gaze sharpened. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

The words almost made me laugh.

Instead, I let my expression remain calm, my hand getting sweaty, and Vaughn just squeezed it.

“I didn’t realize I was required to report my whereabouts, Mr. Fitzgerald,” I replied.

The air between us tightened, his gaze tense as he looked at the hand on the table, how it was gripping mine.

Vaughn’s hand shifted slightly against my back, not pulling me away, not stepping in, but there.

Callahan’s eyes flickered down to it again.

“Your hands are on my wife, Carson,” Callahan said, his voice rough, and I almost laughed, glancing at Vaughn, who kept a straight face, looking at Callahan like he was nothing.

 I chuckled softly, “I’m not your wife, Mr. Fitzgerald,”  I corrected him

“No hello? Oh, Callahan,” Vaughn tsked, his thumb brushing my back gently. I don’t know, there was something about the way he held me, like I was his.

“Five years. And that’s how you talk to me?” Callahan asked, ignoring Vaughn, and I smiled, tilting my head.

“Did you expect me to fall to my feet? Oh, please, Callahan,” I rolled my eyes even though I wasn’t that calm.

“I looked for you.”

“Callahan, if I may…”

“You may not,” Callahan snapped at Vaughn. “I’m speaking to my wife.”

“Ex-wife. And no. I don’t want to speak to you,” I corrected him, and something in Callahan snapped.

I could see it in the way his fingers curled at his side, like he was restraining himself from physically removing Vaughn’s hand.

I needed to move from Vaughn, who was brushing my back, making me feel things I shouldn’t, but I didn’t want to cause a scene.

“Excuse me. Need to use the bathroom,” I said, my voice smooth, cutting through the tension before it could get out of hand.

I needed to breathe.

Vaughn’s hand loosened, and I slipped out of his hand and turned, walking away before either of them could stop me.

I could feel Callahan’s gaze burning into my back the entire way to the bathroom.

 I exhaled as soon as I turned the corner, my steps quickening. My pulse was uneven; my thoughts were louder than I wanted them to be.

Five years, and he still made my heart race like this. Or was it the man who was holding me like I was his? Fuck. This was fucking confusing.

I was still in deep thought when A hand slammed against the wall beside me.

I barely had time to react before I was turned, my back pressing against the cold surface as Callahan stepped into me, closing every inch of space between us.

My breath caught, lips parting as I looked at him, ready to leave, but His body blocked the exit, one arm braced beside my head, the other settling at my waist, not gentle, not rough, but firm enough to keep me exactly where he wanted me.

“Of all people,” he said, his voice low, edged with something sharp, “you had to choose Vaughn fucking Carson?”

My heart was pounding, but I forced my chin up, meeting his gaze head-on. He was closer than he’d ever been in moments like this before, close enough that I could see the tension in his jaw, the faint shift in his breathing.

“I didn’t choose anyone,” I replied.

His hand at my waist tightened.

“Don’t,” he murmured, leaning in just slightly. “Don’t lie to me.”

The words brushed against my lips, his breath hitting my nostrils.

My breath hitched, and down between my legs there was a throb. And I hated myself for feeling it.

“I don’t owe you the truth,” I shot back, but it came out softer than I intended.

His eyes darkened.

“You’re with him,” he said, like he didn’t quite believe them. “Walking in with him. Letting him touch you like that.”

“That’s none of your concern.” I smiled back at him, my hands pressing against the wall.

His forehead nearly brushed mine now, his presence overwhelming in a way that made my chest tighten.

“It is my concern,” he said quietly.

“Because you’re mine.” He growled, moving closer to me, his eyes lingering over mine. My hands shot out and placed them on his chest.

For a second, neither of us moved.

My pulse thundered in my ears, my hands pressing lightly against his chest, not pushing, not pulling, just there. I feel the steady, controlled rhythm beneath my palms.

“You don’t get to say that anymore. I am not yours.” I whispered.

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips before lifting again, slower this time, as if it pained him to look at me.

“You walked away,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t get to pretend that means something changed.”

My breath caught again, frustration and something dangerous tangling in my chest.

“Walked away? You threw me out of your life. ” I said, finally pushing against him just enough to create some space. “You treated me like I was nothing.”

His hand slid from my waist to my wrist, catching it before I could move past him.

“That was before. Now I want you,” he said.

“Callahan, you really are a piece of shit. You know that?”

He laughed. “Of course, but you know that already. So, let’s cut the bullshit. You are coming with me,” he tugged my hand towards the exit.

“Let me go,” I said through gritted teeth, holding his gaze.

“Are you with him?” he asked, his eyes locked on me, and I swallowed hard.

“You lost the right to ask me anything that day,” I yanked my hand from his grip and slipped past him.