— I don’t know—and that’s exactly the problem, I say, dragging a hand through my hair. I’ve never been good at improvisation, Jane. I plan. I organize. I anticipate. That’s how I function.
— And yet you kissed me without it being on the schedule, she points out.
— That was a mistake.
The words come out harsher than I intend, and I hear her sharp intake of breath behind me.
— A mistake, she repeats flatly.
— No—not like that, I try to correct. I mean… I lost control. I acted on impulse without thinking about the consequences.
— And what terrible consequences would those be, Callum? she asks, anger creeping into her voice. That two people who like each other share a moment of intimacy? That our marriage of convenience turns out to be less artificial than expected?
— And then what? I shoot back. We have a contract with an expiration date. In a year, you’ll go back to Los Angeles—to your career. That’s what we agreed.
— Plans can change.
— Mine don’t, I say firmly—even as something inside me rebels against the words. I have responsibilities. Commitments. The family business?—
— Oh, of course, the family business, she cuts in, sharp with sarcasm. Wouldn’t want Callum McGregor putting feelings ahead of a balance sheet.
That stings more than it should—because there’s truth in it.
— I’m sorry, Jane. I can’t…
I get out of bed, unable to stay there another second without risking everything.
— Where are you going? she asks, her voice suddenly softer—almost vulnerable.
— I need to think. I’ll sleep in another room tonight.
— Callum…
— Good night, Jane.
I leave before she can say anything else. Before I can change my mind.
In the dark, silent hallway of the castle, I try to steady my racing thoughts.
What is happening to me?
How did I lose control like that?
My entire adult life, I’ve lived by rules. By plans. Carefully structured outcomes. I built my career, protected the family business—all while keeping a firm grip on my emotions.
And now an American actress with sharp wit and a disarming smile has shattered every certainty I had… in a matter of weeks.
The worst part?
I don’t regret the kiss.
I regret stopping.
And that is exactly what terrifies me the most.
Because if I give in to this—if I admit these feelings are real, and deep—then everything changes. Our arrangement becomes something real. With risks. Uncertainty. Vulnerability.
And I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
