~Fallon~The world knew me in curated snapshots.Perfectly edited videos. Carefully written captions. A seamless blend of aspirational and relatable.To my audience, I was the effortlessly stylish, cool girl next door—the one who knew the best skincare tricks, the trendiest fashion finds, and the real behind-the-scenes of luxury living.But in reality, it was a full-time job.And today, I had work to do.I woke up to the soft chime of my alarm—an aesthetically pleasing, non-jarring sound I had chosen because brand consistency mattered.Before my feet even hit the floor, I grabbed my phone, snapped a quick shot of my sunlit sheets, and typed a caption:“Slow mornings & self-care ☀️✨ What’s one thing you do to start your day right?”Engagement was key. Questions kept my followers talking.I hit the post button and stretched, already calculating my to-do list for the day.Content. Emails. Brand collaborations. Editing.And, of course, making sure my audience believed every part of it wa
~Reid~The boardroom at Callahan Enterprises was silent, the kind of silence that carried weight—the calm before a high-stakes battle.I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled, surveying the executives seated around the long mahogany table. The Prescott merger had been months in the making, and now, we were at the point where every decision counted.And I didn’t lose.Not in business.Not in anything.I intended to keep it that way.Mark Kingston, my CFO, cleared his throat. “We’ve run another financial analysis. The Prescott company is stabilizing, but the long-term projections are still… questionable.”I arched a brow. “Define ‘questionable.’”Kingston hesitated. “The brand recognition is strong, and their market share is decent. But if we don’t make some aggressive restructuring moves, we’ll be inheriting dead weight.”Dead weight.I exhaled sharply, fingers drumming against the table.This was what I had anticipated—Daniel Prescott had built an empire, but he had let it run on
~Fallon~My phone buzzed just as I was setting up my next shoot, the familiar name flashing across the screen.Dad.I stared at it, tension coiling in my chest. I already knew this wasn’t going to be a social call.With a sigh, I picked up. “Hey, Dad.”“Fallon,” he said, his voice brisk as always. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”I winced. “I’ve been busy—”“I’m sure you have.” He cut me off like he always did. “But we have a problem.”Of course we did.I sank into the chair at my vanity. “What kind of problem?”He exhaled sharply. “Reid’s pushing through restructuring plans without consulting me. He’s sidelining my people, cutting departments without my approval—”I rubbed my temple. “Dad—”“I need you to talk to him,” he said, his voice firm. “Remind him this merger was supposed to be a partnership.”I bit back my frustration. “You know I don’t have any say in the business side of this.”“You’re his wife,” my dad snapped. “If anyone can get him to listen, it’s you.”A cold weight se
~Fallon~I wasn’t ready for my mom’s call.Not after the fight with Reid. Not when I was still replaying every sharp word, every cold look, over and over in my head, like a film on loop I couldn’t turn off. His voice, low and cutting. My own, rising in frustration. The sting of everything we’d said—and worse, the things we hadn’t.But my phone rang anyway—her name flashing across the screen like a warning.I stared at it, my thumb hovering over the decline button. I could let it go to voicemail. I could call her back later, when I wasn’t so raw. But I knew if I didn’t answer, she’d just keep calling—and worrying.So I sighed, bracing myself before I finally picked up.“Hi, Mamá.”“Mi vida,” she said, her voice warm and familiar. But there was an edge to it—one I recognized too well. Concern, wrapped in silk. “How are you? You sound tired.”“I’m fine,” I lied, curling my legs beneath me on the couch. “Just busy.”“Busy being married to a billionaire?” she teased. “It must be so exhaust
~Fallon~The dress arrived first.It was delivered in a sleek black garment bag, hung carefully on the door of my closet like it belonged there. Attached was a handwritten note in Reid’s sharp, familiar scrawl:Wear this. Be ready by seven. – RNo please. No would you mind? Just an order, wrapped in expensive packaging.Because of course it was.I stared at the bag, arms crossed, suspicion curling in my stomach. “Not happening.”But the shoes came next.Delicate, strappy heels in a soft champagne gold—designer, no doubt—and absolutely gorgeous. The kind of shoes you wore when you wanted to make an entrance.I ignored them.Then came the makeup artist.At precisely five o’clock, my intercom buzzed.“Mrs Callahan? Your glam team is here.”I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Of course they are,” I muttered, already regretting every decision that had led me to this point.An hour and a half later, I stood in front of my full-length mirror. And despite every ounce of irritat
~Fallon~Victoria’s smile was the kind designed to make women uncomfortable. Sharp. Knowing. The kind that said she thought she knew something I didn’t.And I hated it.I hated the way it made my skin prickle, hated the smug tilt of her head and the glint of satisfaction in her eyes. But most of all, I hated the fact that she was here.Because where Victoria went, trouble always followed. I wondered why she couldn’t stay away from us.“Reid,” she purred, ignoring me entirely. “It’s been quite a while.”Her voice was smooth as silk, but there was an edge beneath it — the kind of edge that cut if you weren’t careful.“Not long enough,” I muttered under my breath.Reid’s hand on my waist tightened—a subtle warning—and my pulse fluttered at the contact. Even through the haze of irritation, I was hyperaware of the way his fingers curved around me, warm and steady. Grounding.“Victoria,” he said coolly, his face impassive. “I’m really surprised to see you here.”She batted her lashes, the p
~Fallon~I woke up to chaos. I thought it would be over that morning after I chased Reid out of my room with my pillows constantly launched at him. I went back to sleep but the buzzing of my phone dragged me out of a restless sleep, and the second my eyes cracked open, I knew it was not over. The vibrations weren’t stopping—texts, notifications, mentions—piling up faster than I could even think about responding.I squinted at the screen and blinked at the flood of alerts. The numbers kept climbing.The kiss.Our kiss.It was everywhere.The Headline were still rolling out and it was crazy. The media had gone absolutely feral.“Fallon Callahan and Reid Callahan’s Sizzling Chemistry Steals the Spotlight!”“Inside the Billionaire Romance Everyone’s Obsessed With.”“When Business Meets Passion: Reid and Fallon’s Love Story Takes Center Stage.”I swallowed hard, my thumb freezing as I scrolled through picture after picture.Reid’s hand tangled in my hair, his fingers curled at the nap
~Reid~I should’ve known better than to agree to brunch.But my mother had called, and my father had insisted, and I’d caved—because years of experience had taught me that saying no to Evelyn Callahan only delayed the inevitable. And so here I was, seated at a too-fancy table in one of their favorite private clubs, already regretting every life choice that had led me here.The air smelled like fresh pastries and subtle wealth. Soft piano music played in the background. Everything was pristine, polished, and far too bright for a Sunday morning after the week I’d had.My mother, Evelyn Callahan, was practically glowing. “Oh, darling, married life suits you,” she said, beaming as she reached across the table to straighten my tie.I resisted the urge to sigh. “Good to know.”“And Fallon—oh, she’s just thriving,” my mom continued, her eyes sparkling. “That kiss at the gala—my heart!”My father, Charles, cleared his throat, looking like he very much wanted to be anywhere else. “Evelyn—”“Oh
~Fallon~It was already midday. I should have never checked my phone after reading the article that morning.That was my first mistake.The second was thinking I could control this.The screen glowed too bright in the darkness of my room, the notifications coming in so fast they blurred together—messages, alerts, missed calls, emails.My name was everywhere.I felt it before I saw it. That sinking, stomach-dropping sensation of something horribly wrong.I took a breath, steadied my hands, and started scrolling.News articles. Blog posts. Speculation threads.All dissecting my marriage.All questioning if Reid and I were real.At first, it was vague—whispers, theories. A few anonymous sources claiming something was off.But then I saw it.The leak.A direct quote from someone claiming to know the truth.“It’s a contract marriage. A business move. It was never about love.”My stomach flipped.My ears rang.I scrolled faster, my vision blurring as the internet did what it did best—picked
ReidI knew something was wrong the second my phone started vibrating at five in the morning.No one called me this early unless it was an emergency.I grabbed it off the nightstand, still half-asleep, and saw Carter’s name flashing across the screen.Not a good sign.“Yeah?” My voice was rough, low with exhaustion.Carter didn’t waste time. “We have a problem.”That woke me up.I sat up, rubbing a hand over my face. “What kind of problem?”“The kind that’s already trending.”A sharp chill ran through me. I swung my legs over the bed, already bracing myself for whatever was coming.“Check your email,” Carter said. “I forwarded the article.”I was already moving, grabbing my laptop and pulling it open. The moment my inbox loaded, my stomach dropped.EXCLUSIVE: INSIDE THE CALLAHANS’ MARRIAGE—THE CONTRACT THAT CHANGES EVERYTHINGI clicked it open, scanning fast.And that’s when the ground tilted beneath me.They knew.Not everything—but enough.The article was a full exposé, claiming Fal
~Reid~I kissed her.And now, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.The warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips.The way she had melted into me, just for a second, before pulling away.The soft hitch in her breath, the lingering taste of her on my lips.I should have let it go.I should have walked away, filed it under mistakes I won’t make again, and kept my distance.But I couldn’t.Because it didn’t feel like a mistake.It felt inevitable.And that—that was the part that terrified me the most.This was the problem with pretending. I wasn’t supposed to want her.This arrangement had been clean, structured—an unshakable foundation built on logic and necessity.We were business partners wrapped in a pretty package of public appearances and carefully curated affection.And I’d been fine with that.Until I wasn’t.Because somewhere between the forced smiles and the staged moments, the lines blurred.Somewhere between fighting her and defending her, between resenting her and needing her—I
~Fallon~It was just a kiss.Nothing more.Nothing less.I repeated the words in my head as I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling like it held the answers to my rapidly spiraling thoughts.A kiss meant nothing.Not when it was part of a bet.Not when it was Reid Callahan.And yet my pulse still skipped when I thought about it. He was messing with my head.The way he’d looked at me—sharp, heated, entirely too confident. The slow, deliberate way he’d closed the space between us, like he’d been waiting for an excuse. The brush of his lips—firm, steady, undeniable.It had been a game.So why the hell was I still thinking about it?I groaned, throwing an arm over my face.This was ridiculous. It was embarrassing too.I needed a distraction.Anything to pull me out of my own head before I did something stupid—like replay the moment in my mind for the hundredth time and analyze every single second.I rolled over, grabbing my phone from the nightstand.Bad idea.Because the first thing th
~Fallon~ The moment I lost, I knew I was in trouble. Reid didn’t gloat. He didn’t smirk, or throw out some arrogant remark. No. That would’ve been too easy. Instead, he just looked at me—calm, unreadable, with the kind of patience that sent my pulse into a full sprint. And then, in that low, even voice that always got under my skin, he said, “I believe I won.” I swallowed. “So it seems.” The air between us thickened. He leaned back against the couch, fingers tapping idly against the armrest like he had all the time in the world. “You remember what’s at stake?” Like I could forget. A kiss. Not just any kiss. A Reid Callahan kiss. And if the almost kiss from the other night was anything to go by, this was about to be a problem. For me. Because despite every warning, every reason I had to not feel things, my body had other ideas when it came to him. And now? Now, I had to face the consequences. I lifted my chin. “Fine.” Reid’s brows lifted slightl
~Fallon~It started as a joke.Well, technically, it started because I caught Reid answering emails again during breakfast, despite claiming he was taking the day off. And since I was no better—scrolling through my social media feed while pretending to sip my coffee—it spiraled into a full-blown challenge.“No work emails,” I declared, setting my phone down with a dramatic flourish. “And no social media.”Reid arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. “You do realize your entire career is built on social media, right?”“And your entire life is built on work,” I shot back. “Which is exactly why we need this. A full day of unplugging. No distractions, no notifications, no meetings. Just… existing like normal people.”He huffed, setting his coffee down. “And what’s in it for me?”I smirked. “If you win, you get to kiss me.”His expression didn’t change, but I felt the shift—the sharp attention in his gaze, the way his fingers drummed once against the table.“And if you win?” he asked, voice lo
~Fallon~I had no idea how I ended up here.Well, actually—I did.Reid had come home earlier than expected, looking ridiculously put-together despite what I knew had to be a brutal day at work. Meanwhile, I’d been lounging on the couch, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and no intention of doing anything productive when he casually dropped a question that sent my entire evening spiraling into enemy territory.“Do you play chess?”I blinked up at him. “Are you being serious?”His lips twitched. “I don’t joke about strategy, Fallon.”Of course he didn’t. I could already picture it—Reid Callahan, eleven years old, probably reading The Art of War between school exams and power plays on the playground.But I wasn’t about to let him think he had the upper hand.“Fine,” I said, stretching lazily before standing up. “But if we’re playing something, we’re making it interesting.”That’s how chess turned into a full-blown game night.And now here we were—an hour and three games deep, sitting cross
FallonIf the press wanted a spectacle, I’d give them one.Because I wasn’t about to let some random nobody run my name through the mud and get away with it.My phone buzzed again, the screen flashing with a name I’d been ignoring for the past half hour.Mom.I exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose before finally giving in and answering.“Fallon,” she said the second the call connected. “I assume you’ve seen the headlines.”“No, Mom. I just woke up and thought the entire internet was blowing up for fun.”She sighed, the exasperation practically vibrating through the phone. “I told you this would happen. People will always look for cracks in a marriage like yours. The only way to win is to ignore it.”I rolled my eyes. “That’s not winning. That’s surrendering.”“It’s strategic,” she corrected. “If you don’t acknowledge it, the story dies faster. Engaging gives it power.”I paced the room, jaw tightening. This was so like her. The constant need to present the perfect image, to
~Fallon~ I woke up to war. My phone was vibrating off the nightstand, the screen lighting up with notifications so fast I could barely process them. I grabbed it, groggy, scrolling through an endless flood of texts, missed calls, and push alerts. And then I saw it. “Billionaire Reid Callahan Spotted on an Intimate Dinner Date—Where Was His Wife?” My stomach dropped. The article was everywhere. Attached were pictures—Reid at a sleek, exclusive restaurant, seated across from a woman I didn’t recognize. She was gorgeous. Brunette, sophisticated, leaning in just close enough to make the photos look damning. The kind of woman the press would love to call his real match. I scrolled faster, my pulse hammering. “Reid Callahan and mystery woman share a private dinner—sources say Fallon Callahan was nowhere in sight!” “Trouble in paradise? Callahan marriage not as picture-perfect as they want you to believe.” “Who is the woman seen dining with L.A.’s most powerful billionaire?” Th