Chapter 172

“What were you thinking?” Calen asked, slamming the door behind them. The lock clicked, sealing them inside their hotel suite. The room was elegant—modern furnishings, dim lighting, and a large window overlooking the city skyline. It was meant to be a restful retreat, a private escape from the crowd. Instead, they were here to argue.

Calen ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply before turning to Pamella. When she remained silent, he repeated, “What the hell were you thinking, Pamella?”

Pamella tossed her clutch onto the coffee table. “What do you mean, what was I thinking?”

Calen scoffed, stepping closer. “You know exactly what I mean. You planned that entire scene. You were so eager to open that door—so sure Izzy was inside. And now look,” he gestured toward the door, “you made a fool of yourself in front of half the event.” He added under his breath, “And why did you have to include me?”

Pamella folded her arms, tilting her chin up. “So what? It’s not my fault that woman looked exactly like her.”

Calen’s patience snapped. “You said her name, Pamella. Loud enough for everyone to hear. You weren’t making a mistake—you were trying to humiliate her.”

Pamella rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”

Calen’s fists clenched. “Why are you so obsessed with her? What do you even get out of this?”

Pamella’s expression flickered before she took a deep breath. Instead of answering, she walked to the minibar, grabbed a bottle of water, and opened it. “Why are you so concerned about her, Calen?” she asked casually. “She’s safe; nothing happened. Done.”

Calen narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Pamella leaned against the counter. “You’re acting like her knight in shining armor. Do you still love her?”

Calen’s jaw tightened. “That’s not the point—”

“Oh, but I think it is,” Pamella interrupted, her gaze sharp. “You’re always so quick to defend her, always so worked up when I mention her name.”

Calen clenched his teeth. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you and whatever the hell you’re trying to pull.”

Pamella smirked. “Funny. I don’t see anyone else losing their temper over Isabella Rossi. Just you.”

Calen let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re deflecting.”

Pamella stepped closer. “Am I? Or are you just mad that I’m pointing out something you don’t want to admit?”

Calen exhaled sharply. “This is ridiculous.”

Pamella watched him, her eyes narrowing. “Is this about your past? That’s it, isn’t it? You still feel guilty because you cheated on her. You think you owe her something. That’s why you keep defending her.”

Calen met her gaze, his patience wearing thin. “Izzy has moved on,” he said firmly. “She doesn’t even look at me the way she used to. And you know what? That’s fine. She’s happy. She’s with Horvath now.” He shook his head. “But you? You’re still stuck in whatever happened between Izzy and me, and this has nothing to do with you.” He added silently, "As much as I hate to admit it, Izzy seems happy with Liam."

Pamella’s expression darkened.

Calen continued, “Why are you still targeting her? Can’t you see? She’s already leaving the company.”

“Are you blaming me for her leaving your company?” Pamella raised her voice. “Is this why you’ve been angry the whole time?”

“You—” Calen began, recognizing her attempt at gaslighting. “I’m done talking to you.”

“Where are you going?” Pamella asked as Calen headed for the door. “Are you leaving me here? After what happened?”

“I came here to talk to the Blackwell family. You had to create something out of nothing! And now…” He’d seen the guests’ looks; they knew Pamella’s scheme had failed miserably.

Calen didn’t glance back as he strode to the door. “Follow me later,” he said. “I need to find the Blackwell Group’s representative.”

Pamella’s fists clenched as he left, the door shutting with a dull thud, leaving her alone in the quiet suite. Her jaw clenched. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

She inhaled sharply, grabbing her phone. She dialed a number and pressed it to her ear. The call rang once, twice, then went to voicemail. She redialed, but there was no answer. Her teeth ground together. Something had gone wrong; something had slipped through the cracks between setting up the scene and Izzy’s unexpected appearance. How the hell had Izzy figured it out?

Pamella exhaled slowly, needing answers, needing them now. With one last glance at the door, she redialed and waited.

“Aren’t you going to talk to the Blackwell representative, too?” Izzy leaned toward Liam.

“He looks occupied,” Liam glanced at the man, already speaking to others, then back to Izzy. “I’d rather stay with you.”

“Why do I think you aren’t even interested in talking to them?” Izzy asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know that representative?”

“Would it matter if I said yes?”

Izzy pursed her lips. So that’s how it is, she thought. Liam must have already spoken to the representative. She felt a surge of pride in her sharp husband.

Izzy smiled. “Thank you for helping me earlier.”

Liam’s expression was unreadable. “Hmm?”

Izzy tilted her head, her mind drifting back to the actor’s attempt to pull her into the restroom. His grip had been firm, his intent clear, but before she could react, Liam had intervened, his presence swift and decisive. The actor had instantly backed down. What happened next, only Liam and his people knew. She wanted to ask, but hesitated. She remembered Liam mentioning the actor would have no future career.

Izzy blinked, returning to the present as Liam leaned in, studying her. “Is that how you thank your knight in shining armor?”

Izzy gave a tight-lipped smile, leaned forward, and kissed him. The kiss was brief, soft, fleeting, ending as quickly as it began. Liam stilled, his eyes widening as she pulled back. Izzy settled back, crossing her legs as if nothing had happened. Liam blinked twice.