Dianna's POV
And so that was how we got here.
Standing outside the grand double doors of an event hall filled with a crowd of wealthy guests, dressed in a wedding gown that probably cost more than most people's houses, waiting to marry a man I had officially met exactly three weeks ago.
A notorious playboy, no less.
I adjusted the edge of my veil and stared at the polished brass handles of the doors like they might suddenly offer an escape route.
Unfortunately, they appeared very committed to staying exactly where they were.
Behind those doors were cameras, politicians, reporters, socialites, and enough gossip columnists to keep the city entertained for at least a month.
And at the end of the aisle, waiting with what I could only assume was his usual smug expression, stood Theodore Callaghan.
My contract husband.
I exhaled slowly and smoothed my hands over the front of my gown. It was elegant, understated, and extremely impractical for running away in which, for the record, had crossed my mind.
Very briefly. Or not.
"You look beautiful."
I carefully glanced to my right. My grandmother handed me the bouquet and stood beside me with the same calm, knowing smile she had worn the day she first mentioned her "dying wish."
A request that had somehow escalated into a full wedding ceremony attended by half the city's political and financial elite.
"Beautiful and mildly trapped," I playfully replied.
She chuckled softly.
"Oh, darling. You're not trapped."
I raised an eyebrow.
"You're negotiating," she finished.
"Negotiations usually involve contracts and lawyers," I said dryly. "Not an aisle and a crowd of witnesses."
"Semantics," she said, patting my arm.
For a moment she studied me quietly, her eyes warm but thoughtful.
"You know," she said after a pause, "sometimes the most unexpected arrangements turn into the most meaningful ones."
I gave her a skeptical look.
"This isn't a romance novel, grandmother."
"Who said anything about romance?" she replied lightly, though the hint of mischief in her smile suggested otherwise. "All I'm saying is… you never know what might happen."
I sighed softly.
"He's a womanizer," I reminded her.
"Yes," she agreed calmly.
"And this is a contract marriage."
"Yes."
"And we've already agreed on three very clear rules."
She tilted her head slightly. "Rules can change."
I stared at her.
She smiled serenely, completely unbothered by my skepticism.
"Just saying," she continued, "people sometimes surprise each other. Even the stubborn ones."
I shook my head, though a small laugh escaped me.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"Of course not," she said, patting my arm again. "But who knows? During your marriage, feelings might develop."
I gave her a flat look.
"That seems extremely unlikely."
"Mm," she hummed thoughtfully. "So did this wedding three weeks ago."
I had absolutely no response to that.
On the other side of the doors, the orchestra began tuning their instruments. The soft murmur of the crowd drifted through the hallway, mixed with the occasional shuffle of chairs.
The guests were already seated.
Waiting.
Suddenly, a quiet knock sounded from the inside of the doors.
Probably the event coordinator giving the five-minute warning.
Five minutes until I walked down an aisle toward Theodore Callaghan, a man who had looked me in the eye three weeks ago and made it very clear he didn't want this marriage any more than I did.
Which, strangely enough, had made the arrangement easier.
Because from the beginning, we had agreed on three simple rules.
At least, that had been the plan.
Of course, the plan had not accounted for several things.
One: Theodore Callaghan's talent for being infuriatingly annoying..
Two: the media's obsession with turning our very fake marriage into the city's newest love story.
And three...
I glanced at the doors again, exhaling slowly.
Three was… complicated.
But that was a problem for another day.
Right now, the music inside the hall began to swell into a ceremonial tune.
"It's time," someone whispered down the hallway.
My grandmother squeezed my hand once before stepping aside.
"Well," she said lightly, "shall we begin?"
A small, calm smile settled on my face.
"Let's."
For reasons I still didn't fully understand…
The moment the doors opened, Theodore Callaghan smiled as soon as our eyes met.
Not his usual careless, charming grin he seemed to wear like a permanent accessory. This one was almost… genuine.
Which, frankly, was unsettling.
The hall revealed itself all at once. The long aisle, the sea of guests turning toward me, the orchestra's music swelling through the room.
And when everyone finally saw me fully revealed in a ridiculous amount of silk, lace, and accessories...
White and red rose petals began drifting down the aisle.
Someone must have signaled it. Guests along the rows tossed them gently, and the petals floated through the air like soft confetti, landing along the path ahead of me.
It was beautiful.
Dramatic.
And suddenly...
I couldn't move.
My feet stayed firmly planted behind the threshold of the open doors as a strange tightness crept into my chest.
I thought this was going to be easy.
Just a walk. Just a performance. Just a contract.
But now that I was actually here, standing at the entrance of a hall full of people, staring at the man I was about to marry...
I had the overwhelming urge to turn around and run.
Run down the hallway.
Run out of the building.
Run somewhere far away where no one was throwing flower petals at my life choices.
Through the thin veil, I could still see Theodore clearly at the altar.
He must have noticed.
Because the moment my hesitation stretched a second too long, his smile faded.
His posture shifted immediately, tension replacing the relaxed confidence he'd been carrying. He looked like he was about to step forward, actually step down from the altar.
But a hand stopped him.
Mr. Callaghan murmured something low to him, placing a firm hand on Theo's arm, probably reminding him something
Theo stilled.
But his eyes never left me.
Beside me, my grandmother gently squeezed my arm.
"Let's go, dear," she whispered softly.
Her voice was calm. The same tone she'd used my entire life whenever I stood on the edge of something frightening.
I took a slow breath.
Right.
This was happening.
I lifted my chin slightly and forced a small, polite smile, exactly as what was expected from a bride standing at the beginning of a very expensive aisle.
Then, finally...
I took a step forward.
Rose petals crunched softly beneath my heels as the music swelled again.
And just like that, there was no turning back.
A small, calm smile settled on my face.
"Let's."
Because apparently, the most ridiculous chapter of my life was about to begin with a walk down an aisle.
Toward a man who had told me very clearly not to expect anything from him.