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One hundred and forty eight
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2025-05-15 17:30:17
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Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and fifty
~Fallon~I always thought returning from paradise would feel like waking up from a dream you didn’t want to end.But this?This felt like floating.Maybe it was the silk still lingering on my skin, or the sun that hadn’t quite faded from my body. Maybe it was the taste of last night still on my lips. Or maybe it was just him.Because Reid Callahan was stretched out in the seat beside me like sin made flesh — crisp white button-down undone at the collar, dark slacks hugging his legs, one ankle crossed over the other as if he didn’t just ruin me twice in twenty-four hours.His hand was warm on my thigh.Casual.Confident.Completely claiming.We were thirty minutes into the flight, somewhere over the Pacific, and I’d already forgotten what gravity felt like.I shifted in my seat, and Reid’s thumb brushed a circle against my skin. Barely there, but enough to make me exhale slowly.He noticed.Of course he did.His lips curved slightly, that barely-there smirk I’d grown to recognize as da
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and forty nine
~Fallon~I wasn’t planning to post it.Honestly, I hadn’t even planned to take the photo. But then I woke up before Reid — sunlight pouring in soft and slow through the terrace doors, the sea breeze curling through the linen curtains — and there he was beside me.Dead asleep. On his stomach. Hair a complete mess. Arm flung across my waist like his body already knew I belonged there, even if his brain hadn’t caught up yet.It was unfair how good he looked like that.The sheet was low on his hips, just barely preserving modesty, and I could see the golden light brushing across the expanse of his back, his shoulder blades, the faint tan line near his waist.He looked… real.Not the CEO. Not the cold strategist. Not the man who kept the world at arm’s length.Just mine.And for reasons I didn’t fully understand, I reached for my phone and snapped a photo.I took it quickly. Quietly. Just a single frame. No adjusting. No filter. Just the way it was.I stared at it for a long moment after.
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and forty eight
~Reid~I woke up to the scent of her before I opened my eyes—warm skin, salt air, traces of her perfume still clinging to the sheets.Fallon.She was draped across me, one leg tangled over mine, her hand resting just above my heart like she belonged there. Maybe she did.The villa was silent. Only the faint crash of waves beyond the terrace reminded me we weren’t in some dream.I didn’t move right away.We’d done this before—touched, tasted, taken—but this morning felt different. Slower. Heavier in the chest. Like something had shifted and neither of us had the language for it yet.Last night hadn’t been our first time. But something about the way she looked up at me now—bare-faced, lashes heavy with sleep, her expression soft and unguarded—made it feel like it mattered more than the ones that came before.She stirred, breath warm against my collarbone, and I kissed the top of her head before I could stop myself.“Morning,” I said quietly.Fallon blinked slowly, lifting her head just
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and forty seven
~Fallon~I knew the moment I walked back into the villa that something was different.The air felt warmer, heavier somehow, like the night was holding its breath. My skin was still dewy from the bath, wrapped in the soft sheen of the champagne-colored silk dress I’d pulled on—bare underneath, because I hadn’t expected to wear it long.And maybe I didn’t want to.Then I smelled it.Rich spices. Seared garlic. Fresh citrus. Something savory, simmering low and slow.And candlelight. Dozens of flickering flames lit the patio just off the villa’s open living room—tiny halos swaying in the ocean breeze, casting soft gold over a table set for two, right at the edge where sand met stone.I walked out barefoot.Reid was already there, standing with the sleeves of his black shirt rolled to his forearms, a wine bottle in one hand and two empty glasses waiting on the table beside him.He didn’t say anything when he saw me. He just stared.And I felt it everywhere.“What is all this?” I asked quie
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and forty six
~Fallon~The sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting the entire villa in a warm, golden glow. I stood at the edge of the infinity pool in a sleek, high-cut black swimsuit and a silk cover-up that barely counted as clothing.And Reid?Reid was watching me like he hadn’t seen a woman in years.He leaned lazily against one of the loungers, shirtless, a glass of something strong in his hand, sunglasses perched low on his nose like he had no intention of pretending he wasn’t checking me out.I turned slightly, letting the light catch the curve of my thigh, the open back of my swimsuit, the slow sway of my hips.“What?” I said innocently, adjusting my sunglasses. “You’re staring.”His smile was slow, wicked. “You wore that on purpose.”“Of course I did.” I tossed him a smirk. “Would’ve been a waste not to.”His eyes dropped to my legs, then climbed back up, slower this time. “You’re dangerous.”“I get that a lot.”I slipped into the water with a graceful slide, gasping softly at the per
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and forty five
~Fallon~I knew something was up the moment Reid walked into the room with that maddeningly unreadable expression—the one he wore when he was trying not to smirk, like the truth was sitting on his tongue and he was daring me to drag it out of him.It was the same expression he used to wear back when we were teenagers and he’d done something ridiculous, like “accidentally” steal my essay off my desk to beat me to submission in a class debate.Now, he stood just inside the doorway to my sitting room, dressed in a crisp white button-down and navy slacks, sleeves rolled to his elbows, arms folded.“Tell me you didn’t make any plans this week,” he said.I blinked up from my laptop, halfway through editing a proposal for a campaign deal. “Why?”“Because,” he said simply, “you won’t be here.”I paused. “Come again?”“Pack a bag.”I set the laptop aside slowly. “Reid…”He didn’t flinch. Didn’t twitch. Just stood there like he had all the time in the world to watch me figure it out.“Pack a ba
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and forty four
~Fallon~The cameras were rolling, the lighting was harsh, and my smile was professionally unshakeable.My makeup had been touched up twice. The crew had asked for a different shot angle once. I’d changed earrings mid-interview because the producer thought the lighting caught too much glare. None of it fazed me. This was my world—controlled chaos packaged into content, then tied up with a perfectly soundtracked bow for the internet to consume.This was my job. This was routine.But nothing about today felt routine.Not with the way my stomach twisted every time Reid’s name came up. Not with the way I hadn’t been able to shake the echo of his voice whispering my name last night when we were tangled in sheets and shadows.Not when I’d woken up to an empty bed and a single, folded note on my nightstand: Knock them dead today. I’ll be watching.Reid never left notes. He barely even texted full sentences. But he was starting to do both. And I didn’t know what that meant.Still, I showed up
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and forty three
~Reid~My father didn’t believe in distractions.He believed in outcomes. Timelines. Controlled leverage.So when his name lit up on my screen—Callahan, Sr.—while I was reviewing the final terms of our pending acquisition, I knew the clock had started ticking again.Not on the deal.On me.I let the phone ring twice before I answered. I needed a second to shut down the part of me that had just spent the past ten minutes staring at a photo of Fallon asleep in bed, her face tucked into the pillow, peaceful. She hadn’t known I took it.I couldn’t stop looking at it.“Dad.”“Reid.” His voice was a familiar blade—precise, unimpressed, sharp enough to draw blood if you leaned too close. “Update me. What’s the current temperature on Prescott’s board?”“They’re fractured,” I said, flipping through my notes. “Pressure is building on Daniel to sell. Two more shifts on the advisory panel and we’ll control the vote outright.”“And the paper trail?”“Clean. We’re keeping everything under holding c
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and forty two
~Reid~I wasn’t one for grand gestures.Never had been. I hated the performance of it all—the forced sentiment, the hollow extravagance. But this wasn’t about showing off. Not tonight.This was for Fallon.And Fallon? She was the exception to every rule I’d ever written for myself.I wanted to give her something real. Something quiet. Something that felt like us, before the world turned everything into strategy and survival.So I called in favors. Cleared the rooftop of one of our hotels—hers and mine, technically, though we never talked about our joint holdings. Had them set up a private dinner under the stars, away from the press, the boardroom, the whispers of socialites and schemers. Just us. Finally.Lanterns glowed against the night, flickering gold like they were holding their breath. Her favorite gardenias lined the table in a simple white arrangement. A record player hummed somewhere nearby, Billie Holiday crooning softly like the city below didn’t exist.I was already standi
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