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One hundred and forty one
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2025-05-11 22:26:17
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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
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and forty one
~Fallon~“You’re glowing.”Mia didn’t even bother with hello. She just said it as soon as I walked into her apartment, arms crossed and a smug smile plastered across her face like she already knew every secret I wasn’t ready to admit.I rolled my eyes, dropping my bag on the nearest chair. “Hi, Mia. Lovely to see you too.”She waved a manicured hand. “Cut the small talk. Sit. Spill.”I made a show of sighing before collapsing onto her couch, tugging one of the throw pillows into my lap like it might protect me from whatever wild theories she’d cooked up.“I’m not glowing,” I said, shaking my head in disagreement even when I had seen it in the mirror too.She squinted at me. “Fallon. Your skin is clearer than a filtered selfie, your lips are literally plumper, and you walked in here humming. Humming. You never hum.”I blinked. “Maybe I’m just…happy.”“Uh-huh.” She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Or maybe you’ve been thoroughly and repeatedly—”“Okay!” I held up a hand, laughing despit
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and forty
~Fallon~It was just dinner.That’s what I kept telling myself.But it wasn’t. Not really.Because everything had changed since that night in the garage. Since that first time—messy and hungry and drenched in tension we’d been holding back for years.Tonight was different.The dinner had been simple, private—just the two of us, a bottle of wine, the dining room too quiet, the air too charged. We’d barely touched the food. Not because it wasn’t good, but because we were both distracted.By what we weren’t saying.By what we were both thinking.He had looked at me like I was the only thing in the room. Like he was already imagining what he’d do to me the second the plates were cleared. And I had let him. I’d soaked in every second of it.I’d wanted it, too.But more than that—I wanted him.Which was new.And terrifying.Now, hours later, the soft rustle of fabric hit the floor as I stepped out of my dress. I was standing near the closet, reaching for a silk robe, pretending my hands wer
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and thirty nine
~Fallon~I woke slowly, as if my body wanted to stay in that dreamlike in-between. The kind where reality hadn’t fully returned yet. Where everything still felt soft and suspended.The first thing I registered was the warmth.Not from the sunlight filtering through the windows, although that was there too—golden and gentle, casting a glow across the sheets like we were in some curated moment from a romance ad.No, the warmth I noticed first came from Reid. Solid and real beside me.His chest pressed against my back. His arm slung over my waist, heavy and grounding. His breath steady, stirring the hair near my neck. And I lay there, completely still, like if I moved too fast, I might shatter whatever spell we were under.Last night hadn’t felt like a mistake.It had felt like gravity.Like we’d been circling each other for so long, it was inevitable we’d fall. And when we finally did, it wasn’t rushed or reckless—it was intense. Intentional. Slow and seismic.And it had changed everyth
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and thirty eight
~Fallon~The drive home was quiet—but not cold.The silence between us was thick, pulsing with tension that had been brewing for months. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t empty. It was dense with everything we hadn’t said, everything we hadn’t let ourselves feel.Reid’s hand rested on my thigh the entire time. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just there—warm, steady, grounding. His thumb moved slowly in small, lazy circles, brushing higher with each pass, testing the edge of propriety like he already knew it didn’t exist anymore. Every stroke sent heat curling through my stomach. Every glance he shot me from the driver’s seat made it harder to breathe.By the time we turned onto the private drive, I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. I was too far gone with want to think clearly. When we reached the house, he cut the engine, but neither of us moved. For a second, we just sat there, the soft tick of the cooling car the only sound.Then he looked over at me. His gaze was searing. “You’re sure?
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and thirty seven
~Fallon~He went offlineI stared at the screen like it might light back up with some rational follow-up, but no—Reid was already gone. The tone in his text had shifted right before he logged off the app and I could feel it . Not sharp. Not cold.Final.I knew that version of him. The one who didn’t need noise to move. Who didn’t yell when he was about to burn something down. That version went quiet, calculated—and dangerous.I didn’t change. Didn’t stop to grab flats or pull my hair out of its perfect twist. I was in the car with one hand on the wheel and the other on my phone, calling the Burns Industries front desk as I sped through the city.“Mrs. Prescott-Callahan,” the receptionist said quickly. “Yes, we saw your husband heading out just a minute ago. Security said—”I didn’t wait to hear the rest.I parked in the loading zone. Ignored the voice telling me I was being stupid, emotional, exposed.Because this wasn’t about optics.This was about stopping Reid from doing something
Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract One hundred and thirty six
~Reid~I wasn’t in the mood for distractions.I’d been on the phone all day—strategists, lawyers, international investors circling like sharks. The Valen acquisition was slipping into dangerous territory, and I was doing everything short of bloodletting to keep it on track.Then Mia texted. We finally got to exchange numbers when Fallon pulled me along to one of their hangouts and since then, she texted me every once in a while.Thought you’d want to see this. Fallon’s looking lethal tonight.I opened the image—and everything stopped.Fallon. Alone at the gala. Black velvet. That slit. A quiet storm in heels and diamonds, standing in a room full of cowards who wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like her if she let them try.And I wasn’t there.I stared at the photo too long. Long enough for the guilt to settle in my chest like concrete.She wasn’t supposed to be a real wife. This wasn’t supposed to matter. It was a deal. A name. A signature. An arrangement born out of necessity, po
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