Lahat ng Kabanata ng Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract: Kabanata 161 - Kabanata 170

~Fallon~It started with the coffee.More specifically—the smell of it.One second I was in the kitchen, barefoot, hair still wet from the shower, reaching for my favorite mug. The next, the scent hit me, and something inside my stomach lurched hard enough to stop me cold.I stared down at the counter, confused, one hand gripping the edge of the marble as the nausea rolled in. It wasn’t subtle. It was immediate. Violent.I poured the coffee down the sink and tried to breathe through it.Maybe it was something I ate. Maybe it was just too early.But then it happened again.Twice.The second time, I was in the middle of a shoot—a dreamy, golden-hour campaign for a clean perfume line that was supposed to be soft and effortless. And it was. Until someone uncapped a jasmine blend and I had to excuse myself mid-shot, clutching my stomach and faking a migraine.I blamed it on stress.That was the easy answer. The safe one.Things with Reid had been… tense.There’d been no blow-up. No huge fi

~Reid~I wasn’t looking for anything.Just waiting on a call. Pacing by the kitchen, phone in my hand, the screen dark. I hadn’t been able to focus all morning. My mind kept drifting—to Fallon, to the silence between us, to the things we weren’t saying.I heard Rosa moving around in the background. One of the newer housekeepers—sharp, efficient, quiet like the rest of the staff. But she hesitated when she saw me. That was the first red flag.“Mr. Callahan?” Her voice was careful, almost reluctant. “Do you want me to take out the bin in the guest bathroom?”I gave a distracted nod. “Yeah, that’s fine.”She lingered. Shifted her weight. “Actually… there’s something I think you might want to see first.”That made me look up.She didn’t say more—just turned and walked down the hall, her steps soft but deliberate. I followed without asking questions.The guest bathroom door was slightly ajar.She paused outside it, gave a short, respectful nod toward the wastebasket just inside the door, a

~Fallon~The house was still.Still in the way that made every sound louder. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of the breeze against the windows, every breath I took—too loud.I walked barefoot through the hall, trailing my fingers along the cool marble, letting my steps be slow and aimless. The robe I wore wasn’t even tied properly, just gathered lazily at the waist like I hadn’t bothered pretending I was trying to sleep.Because I wasn’t.I passed the kitchen. The dining room. The empty sitting area that still held the faintest scent of roses from the arrangement Rosa had changed yesterday.I could’ve turned around. Gone back to my room. Pretended this ache in my chest was just exhaustion.But I didn’t.Because I knew where he was.The light from his study bled into the hallway, a narrow slice of gold against the floor. The door was open a crack, just enough to let the warmth spill out like it was waiting for someone to step into it.I stood there longer than I should ha

~Fallon~I woke up warm.Not the kind of warmth that came from sunlight pouring through the windows—but the kind that came from being wrapped in someone.Reid’s arm was still slung over my waist, heavy and certain, pinning me to him like he hadn’t moved all night. His body molded against mine — chest to back, legs tangled together, breaths slow and even against the crown of my head.I stayed still for a long time.Listening.Feeling.Not wanting to break the spell.His bare skin was hot against mine where my camisole had ridden up. His hand rested low against my stomach, fingers curled possessively even in sleep. Every time he exhaled, I felt the slow rise and fall of his chest against my back, steady and grounding.I should’ve moved.Should’ve slipped out of bed while I still had the good sense to pretend this didn’t mean anything.But I didn’t.I stayed.Because I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this… safe.Or maybe the truth was simpler:I didn’t want to remember.I shifted

~Fallon~The house was immaculate, as always.Every candle on the side tables had been lit by the staff before they quietly disappeared. Every glass shone under the ambient light. The table was set — polished silverware, crystal glasses, flawless linen napkins — like we were hosting royalty instead of trying to remember how to sit across from each other without letting everything spill out.Someone had arranged fresh gardenias in a vase at the center of the table — my favorite — and that made my chest ache a little.Because Reid had noticed once, and maybe someone on the staff had noticed him noticing.Or maybe it was just coincidence.Either way, it felt like a memory waiting to happen, and I hated that it already hurt.I wasn’t pacing, not really — just moving around the dining room, adjusting the already perfect edges of the tablecloth, straightening a plate here, smoothing a napkin there.Waiting.Pretending like I wasn’t.When the front door finally clicked open, the tiny, ridicu