29. Chapter Twenty-Nine Tristan
When I saw Carmen Orsini sitting in my father’s old settee, a surge of anger coursed through me. She was the last person I expected, or wanted, to see. But despite the confusion and adrenaline pumping through my veins, I held my tongue, keeping my arms crossed tightly over my chest as I sized her up.
“You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” I finally said, words measured but laced with enough venom to make their meaning crystal clear. Carmen simply shrugged, unaffected by my hostility.
“Really? After I helped you rescue my sister?” Carmen asked.
I held back the urge to tell her to get out. “This is Callahan business. You would do well to stay out of it.”
“Can it, Tristan. I’m here for Adriana,” she replied coolly. Her fiery hair seemed unnaturally bright against the somber backdrop of the downstairs study. I shot a glance at Kieran, his dark eyes giving away his own discomfort about our unexpected guest. Liam, on the other hand, seemed more amused than anything else.
“You could’ve called me,” Adriana said.
Carmen shook her head. “Yeah, I have a feeling you would’ve tried to talk to me out of it. Are you okay?”
“I’ve had better weekends,” Adriana said. “Are you? Did you know?”
“I didn’t know he would go that far,” Carmen replied. “But there’s a lot I’ve been keeping from you and…I don’t know. I’m sorry, kid. I really am.”
My eyes flicked to Adriana, her face paling slightly as she tightened her grip on my hand. For a second, she looked like she was going to burst into tears.
“I didn’t need you busting in here like you own the place, Carmen,” I growled. I only vaguely knew her, and right now, her audacity was grating on my last nerve.
“Tristan...” Adriana began, but I held up a hand, silencing her.
“No, Adriana. She doesn’t get to just show up unannounced and expect us to roll out the red carpet for her,” I snapped. I knew my anger was misdirected - it wasn’t Carmen’s fault that our lives were suddenly spiraling out of control - but it felt good to have a tangible target for my frustrations.
Carmen raised an eyebrow at me, a slow smile seeping across her lips. “I don’t want your red carpet, Callahan,” she retorted sharply. “Like I said. I’m not here for you.”
In spite of my simmering anger, I forced myself to sit down after helping Adriana down. The last thing I needed was to make Ade more upset. I watched Carmen, her green eyes defiant and full of fire. A striking contrast against the dull blue of the family portrait hanging on the wall behind her - my father’s stern gaze seemed to bore into me.
“Then why are you here, Carmen?” I finally asked, keeping my voice steady. It was a simple question, but it hung heavy in the air between us.
“I’m here for my sister,” Carmen continued, shifting in her seat. She was wearing a fitted green dress that highlighted her red hair, making her stand out against the dark leather of the sofa. “For my niece or nephew,” she added with a pointed look at Adriana’s stomach. There was a beat of silence before she continued. “To make sure they get what they’re owed.”
Her words hung in the air like the unspoken threat they were. She might as well have slapped me; I felt my temper flare. Did she think I would abandon Adriana and our children? That I’d leave them with nothing?
“Is that what you think of me?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous.
“I don’t think about you at all, Tristan.”
My jaw tightened, grinding my teeth together. “Then you’re not paying enough attention,” I shot back, my temper flaring. Carmen simply offered me a cold smile, her green eyes flashing with defiance. Before I could say anything else, Adriana’s hand slipped into mine. Her touch was gentle, calming—but also a reminder that I probably shouldn’t lose my shit in front of her sister.
“Words are cheap, Callahan. My sister isn’t herself and she needs someone in her corner. We need to talk about wills, inheritances. Your children will be Callahans, and you keep delaying the wedding. You can understand how this looks from our perspective.”
The words sliced through the charged silence. Wills, inheritances...Carmen was right. This wasn’t a romance of candlelit dinners and stolen kisses. This was the cold, hard reality of our lives. The risks that came with my surname, the responsibilities that came with Adriana carrying it and our children bearing it.
I turned to look at Adriana, her face pale and tight with stress. Her eyes met mine, wide and fearful, echoing the same questions I had. “I can look after myself, Carmen,” Adriana said.
“You’ve done a spectacular job of that so far,” Carmen replied, sarcasm lacing her voice.
“That’s not fair, how was I supposed to know Dad was after me if you decided not to tell me?”
Carmen shook her head. “I had no idea he was going to do that,” she replied stiffly. “Listen. I’m not saying you wouldn’t normally be able to handle this. Right now, you need a little extra help. That’s why I’m here.”
Kieran cleared his throat beside me, drawing my attention away from Carmen’s heated words. “She’s not wrong, lad,” he said, his voice low and cautious. My gaze slid over to him, the betrayal stinging more than it should’ve. “I mean, she’s an asshole. But not wrong.”
My attention was torn and in this moment, I felt a vicious resentment towards Kieran for adding fuel to the fire. But he was right; Carmen was making some valid points. From the corner of my eye, I could see that Liam was trying not to laugh. Little bastard.
“Keeping Adriana and our children safe is my top priority,” I said, tearing my gaze away from Kieran to look at Carmen. “That goes without saying.”
“Oh? Because as of now, nothing’s been said. No one knows anything concrete, Tristan. You haven’t given us anything to hold on to. Just...promises,” Carmen spat the last word out like it was poison.
I glared at her. “Those babies will be Callahans. They will be legally recognized as mine, whether we’re married or not.”
Carmen’s eyes flicked from me to Adriana and back again, a flash of disbelief crossing her face. “And then what? You think that a last name is going to protect them?” she retorted, her voice sharp.
“Enough,” Adriana finally interjected, her voice coming out as little more than a whisper but cutting through the heavy air of the room like a knife. Her chest was heaving slightly as if taking breath was an effort. I immediately turned my attention to her, my anger temporarily forgotten.
“Are you alright?” I asked, shifting closer and taking her hand in mine. It felt cold and clammy under my touch, sending a chill down my spine.
“I just...” she began but trailed off, looking impossibly small sandwiched between Carmen and myself. “I need some air.”
Before anyone could react, she had pushed herself off the sofa and made her way out of the living room, her steps shaky. I rose instantly to follow her, ignoring Carmen and Kieran calling back to me. Maybe the lawyer too. I’d barely noticed him there, sipping on his coffee as he watched us all verbally spar.
I didn’t care if he was judging me.
Adriana’s fragile state sent a wave of protectiveness over me, eclipsing whatever fight Carmen wanted to start. The image of her scared face was burnt into my mind. She looked so frail that it jarred me out of the bitter web of words I had been tangled in mere moments before.
The heavy double doors shut behind us, and the quietness of the hallway felt like a balm on my frayed nerves. I watched as Adriana leaned against the wall, her back towards me, shoulders slumping under an invisible weight.
“When did I lose all of my agency? At which point during being pregnant did people think it was okay to stop talking to me and start talking at me? For me?” she muttered more to herself than to me, but I heard it nonetheless. Her voice broke mid-sentence, and my heart twisted painfully at the sound. “At what point did it become okay to kidnap me?”
“It was never okay to kidnap you,” I replied.
She looked at me, then laughed under her breath. “Tristan,” she said. “Look who’s talking.”
“I...” I began, but whatever I had been about to say died on my lips. I stayed silent and gave her a moment to regain her composure.
“I don’t need Carmen fighting my battles for me,” she continued, her voice growing steadier. “And I don’t need you or Kieran thinking you know what’s best for me without even asking. I mean, this probably started when you took me to your mom’s cabin, right? That was when you took all decision-making out of my hands.”
“But, Ade,” I protested weakly. Her words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of me. She turned to face me then, the raw pain in her eyes making my heart twist painfully. “You’re carrying our children. I’m just trying to protect you. All three of you.”
“I know,” she sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “And I appreciate that, I do. But sometimes...sometimes it feels like you forget that I’m more than just an incubator for the next Callahan heir.” Her words were soft, almost timid, yet they struck me harder than any gunshot ever could.
“I don’t...” I began, my voice barely audible as I scrambled for the right words—the right response. But they eluded me, much like the reassurance Adriana yearned for.
She turned to face me then, her dark eyes both pleading and defiant. “And what about after the baby’s are here? I know the girl might fare better, but are you going to expect the same thing from our son that your dad expected of you? When there are three of us to protect? Will you keep us locked away forever, Tristan? Can’t hide from the world—can’t hide from your world—forever.”
Her words rang through the stillness of the hallway, echoing off the high ceilings and vibrating through the very marrow of my being. I had always known that Adriana was strong. But I had never expected this.
Her voice barely raised above a whisper, but her words crashed into me like thunderous waves, shaking me to my core.
But she wasn’t right. “You earn money from this life, too,” I said. “You act like you don’t, but you do. This life means you get to have the lifestyle you want, doesn’t it? You’re still the actuary for the Orsini op.”
“I didn’t choose this life, it chose me,” she retorted, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. “And you’re wrong, Tristan. This life, this...lifestyle isn’t what I want.”
I scoffed. “You think I chose this?”
She watched me with those sharp, intelligent eyes, searching for something I wasn’t sure I could give. “No,” she sighed finally, a tired smile on her face. “But you steer it. You make choices, Tristan.”
“And so do you,” I countered, my voice more forceful than I’d intended. “Don’t pretend you’re just a victim here, Adriana. You’ve made your choices too.”
It was the wrong thing to say. I knew it the moment the words left my mouth. Her face hardened immediately, a familiar shuttered look pulling across her features as if she was withdrawing from me.
“Like falling in love with you.”
Her words hung between us in the silence of the hallway. She had slipped into that guarded stance I knew too well. Her arms wrapped around her midsection, cradling our unborn children and creating an invisible wall between us. The intensity in her gaze touched a deep part of me that I usually kept well guarded.
“Listen, Ade…”
“Don’t, Tristan,” she cut me off, but the quiver in her voice betrayed the calm she was trying to portray.
“I would do anything to protect you, Ade,” I said, stepping closer to her. Her eyes flickered away from mine, retreating again. The distance was more than just physical now; we were drifting apart emotionally too.
“When are you going to get it through your head? Protection isn’t love,” she replied. “You might not be like your father, but you’re turning out to be a lot like mine.”
I stood frozen, her words lashing out like a whip. I watched the turmoil in her eyes, the sadness, the frustration. The words echoed in the silent hallway, seeping into every crevice of my being.
Protection isn’t love.
It was a statement, an accusation that stripped me bare.
She was right. I hated it.
“I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you,” I said, stepping forward to close the space between us. “I’d die for you, Adriana. That’s not about protection. That’s about love.”
“Don’t die. If you die on me, I will never forgive you.”
Her voice was a whisper, barely audible in the stillness of the hallway. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, creating a perfect contrast to the hardened expression she wore. I could see every emotion she felt mirrored in her gaze: anger, fear, concern… and love—intense, passionate, undeniable love.
With each second that passed by, my heart sank deeper. The realization of how badly I had hurt her without intending to do so washed over me like a relentless tidal wave. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions; well, it seemed like I had been inadvertently laying the bricks all along.
“I won’t,” I assured her gently, the tone of my voice matching hers. “I’ll fight to stay alive for you and our children.”
I held her gaze, vowing silently that I would bridge the chasm growing between us, one I had helped create with my obsession for control. But before either of us could speak another word, the distant sound of breaking glass shattered the moment. Adriana flinched, turning her head toward the noise. Not towards the safety of the living room. Somewhere…nearby?
“Did you hear that?” I asked her.
She nodded. “It sounded like it was coming from upstairs.”
That’s where we went, to the study upstairs, somewhere that should have remained undisturbed.
Our eyes met one last time before we split—me towards the commotion, her following just a step behind. This was instinct, not choice; protection and love intertwined in a dance as old as time.
I moved through the darkened hallway with Adriana on my heels, her soft breaths sounding like thunder in my ears. The strain between us faded into the background as we were met with a new threat. The echo of shattered glass was still ringing, followed by a faint rustling of movement.
I knew these hallways like the back of my hand, but tonight they seemed alien to me, as if bathed in the shadows of our unresolved conflict. A cold dread coiled around my spine but I quashed it down. I had to keep my focus razor-sharp, for Adriana and for our unborn children.
The study door was ajar when we reached it. With one last look at Adriana, I pushed it open. The sight that greeted us knocked the breath out of me. The window had been smashed and the curtains billowed in the cold night wind, shards of glass glittering ominously on the polished floor. Papers from my father’s desk scattered everywhere, the beautiful mahogany bookshelf turned over, and books—old and new—strewn across the floor.
“Did someone just like, throw a brick inside?” Adriana asked as I took a step into the study.
“Stay behind me,” I ordered Adriana, my tone leaving no room for negotiation. She drew in a sharp breath but I saw her nod from the corner of my eyes. “Doesn’t look like it. Seems like someone smashed the windows to leave, not to come in.”
“So another person broke in,” Adriana said, her voice practically breaking.
“Right,” I said. “And I think we might be in serious danger.”