Chapter 17: The Setup

The resort lounge welcomed Ariana with its elegant atmosphere, the scent of sea salt and expensive perfume drifting through the air like invisible threads of wealth and desire. Golden lights danced from the intricate crystal chandeliers above, refracting through her champagne glass and sparkling over the polished marble floors beneath her heels.

She moved with poise, each step measured, every tilt of her head intentional. Dressed in a deep sapphire gown that hugged her frame, she embodied cool elegance. Her calm expression belied the storm of calculation brewing behind her eyes.

Guests murmured in conversation, laughter mingling with the soothing hum of waves crashing just outside the open glass terrace. Live jazz floated from the far corner where a quartet played with soft mastery, blending into the sounds of luxury and indulgence. But Ariana was not here for indulgence.

She was here for war.

And she knew tonight’s battlefield had already been laid.

From across the lounge, Antony’s gaze trailed her every move like a hawk circling prey. He held a glass of brandy loosely in his hand, leaning against a column with a practiced ease that masked his true intention: surveillance.

He hadn’t approached her directly tonight. That alone told her enough. Antony never stayed silent unless he was setting a trap.

Her instincts were correct, Rachel’s malicious whispers had taken root in his mind, casting shadows of doubt on everything Ariana did. The rumors Rachel spread were designed to provoke a reaction, to test her behavior and see if she would break the image of loyalty she had carefully maintained.

So, when the man approached her tall, confident, with a warm smile hiding razor-edged charm she was already prepared.

A ‘coincidental’ encounter? Please.

Ariana saw through it instantly. Antony had planned this. She could almost admire the effort. The man’s grooming, demeanor, and timing were too perfect to be accidental. Antony had chosen well. A man with just enough charisma to tempt and just enough edge to unsettle. The kind of man Antony believed Ariana would fall for… if she truly were the shallow socialite Rachel claimed she was.

But Ariana was no longer that woman.

The man approached, timing his steps to catch her just as she reached a corner table with a view of the sea.

“Miss Cameloe,” he greeted smoothly, his tone a careful blend of reverence and flirtation. “I have heard a lot about you.”

Ariana turned her head slowly, lifting a sculpted brow in a display of controlled interest. “Is that so?”

The man extended a hand, his expression unreadable but undeniably charismatic. “Ethan Lang. I work with Antony on a few investment projects.”

There it was the connection. Antony wasn’t even subtle about it. Ethan was one of his business associates, a polished tool sent to test the waters.

Ariana accepted the handshake. Delicate. Polite. Nothing more.

“A pleasure,” she said coolly, letting her fingers slip away just before the contact could linger.

Ethan’s eyes flickered with a glint of intrigue. His next words were bait carefully designed, calculated for impact.

“Your personality doesn’t match the kind of woman I’d expect to be engaged to someone like Antony.”

A soft, almost musical chuckle escaped Ariana. She tilted her head. “Oh? And what kind of woman do you think I am, Mr. Lang?”

He stepped slightly closer, lowering his voice just enough to invite intimacy. “The type who deserves better.”

Smooth.

Too smooth.

Ariana held his gaze, her smile lingering only a second. She allowed herself to seem slightly intrigued but just slightly. She knew Antony would be watching for even the smallest sign that the rumors held truth.

“Flattery,” she mused aloud. “You must be quite popular with women.”

Ethan chuckled, undeterred. “Only the ones who appreciate honesty.”

His confidence never wavered. Ethan was no amateur; he’d been briefed, rehearsed. But he wasn’t nearly clever enough to fool her. This was not a conversation it was a performance. And she was the unwilling lead.

She took a sip of champagne, letting the bubbles sting her tongue before setting the glass down. Her fingers lingered on the rim. She decided to let him talk a little longer not because she was interested, but because she wanted Antony to suffer through every moment of her calm indifference.

From her peripheral vision, she caught Antony’s tightening jaw, the narrowing of his eyes. He was expecting either a scandalous flirtation or a meltdown. He got neither.

As Ethan leaned slightly forward, just beginning to suggest another line of charm, his phone vibrated loudly against the table. The sudden noise cracked his polished composure, just for a moment. Ariana caught the flicker of surprise in his eyes before he expertly smoothed it over.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, stepping aside with his phone in hand.

He brought the phone to his ear, voice shifting almost immediately into a tense murmur. Ariana didn’t need to hear the words.

She already knew.

Her gaze swept across the lounge, toward the bar. There, standing with casual authority, was the reason Ethan’s plan was falling apart.

Jesse Ren.

He wasn’t looking at her, yet she felt his awareness like a shadow pressed against her back. He didn’t need to intervene loudly. Jesse moved through the world with the quiet confidence of someone who never had to announce himself.

This wasn’t a coincidence. Jesse knew what Antony was up to. And more importantly he cared enough to interfere.

That realization stole the breath from her lungs for a brief second. There was no reason for Jesse to get involved. No business advantage. No gain.

And yet, here he was.

Ariana exhaled slowly, setting her champagne flute back on the marble tabletop. It didn’t escape her notice that Jesse’s timing was precise intervening just as Ethan was about to escalate. Just as the trap was about to be sprung.

Antony, across the room, was now visibly irritated. His lips pressed into a tight line. He had not anticipated outside interference.

The energy in the room shifted again as Ethan returned, wearing a professionally regretful expression.

“I have to take care of something urgent,” he said. “Duty calls.”

Ariana gave a nod of mock sympathy, her expression betraying nothing. “Of course. It was nice meeting you.”

Ethan offered a last fleeting smile before retreating.

As he disappeared from view, Ariana didn’t glance back at Antony. She didn’t need to.

He was fuming.

His plan had fallen apart before it could even begin. And worst of all, he hadn’t even been able to pinpoint why.

She turned back toward the view, letting her lips curl into a private smile. She could almost hear Rachel’s frustrated voice hissing in Antony’s ear, urging him to try again. They wouldn’t give up not so easily.

But neither would she.

This encounter was nothing more than the first ripple in a coming wave. Antony was playing a dangerous game, still treating her like the naïve fiancée he could manipulate with a handsome face and the right words.

He didn’t realize yet that she was no longer playing by his rules.

From across the room, Jesse took a slow sip of whiskey, his eyes unreadable. A silent guardian. Or perhaps something more. Ariana wasn’t sure what role he was choosing to play in her life but tonight, he had stepped in.

She wouldn’t forget it.

As the night wore on and conversations around her resumed their shallow rhythm, Ariana knew the test wasn’t over. Antony would strike again, and next time, he had be more careful.