Dianna's POV
The wedding was over. The guests had gone. The cameras were off. And yet, somehow, my life had only just begun.
Theo was… impeccable. Publicly, at least. He followed the rules we had set perfectly. No touching. Check. Mind his own business. Check. No scandals. Double check.
But privately? That was another story entirely.
He respected my boundaries. Not even a brush of a hand when he passed by. Not even a casual lean when we shared a room. His restraint was maddening. Every time I caught him looking at me made my blood simmer in ways I refused to admit.
He minded his own business… in theory. He never questioned my work, never commented on my affairs, never tried to impose himself.
And yet, I knew what that meant. It also meant he would sometimes bring other women into the house.
I never said anything. Rule two was clear: mind your own business. So I didn't. I focused on my own projects, on my own life, and tried not to notice the laughter drifting from the living room when he entertained one of his… "guests."
At first, it was infuriating. I couldn't believe the audacity. The house we both technically lived in was being treated like a temporary playground.
And yet… in a weird, cruel way, that wasn't yet the worse.
As days passed, I began to notice the subtle ways he reminded me he existed. The sound of his voice in the hallway. The way his keys clicked against the marble counter when he returned late at night. The faint perfume that lingered long after he had left a room.
I hated it. And I hated that I couldn't stop noticing.
It was maddening. Sharing a home, yet living entirely separate lives. I tried to drown it in work. I tried to lose myself in meetings, in phone calls, in emails. But nothing erased the knowledge that he was there, always present, always Theo, always teasing the edges of my patience without ever breaking the rules.
Sometimes, I wondered if he was doing it on purpose. If every glance, every deliberate act of restraint, was meant to get under my skin.
Four weeks into our marriage, and I still hadn't gotten used to living with Theodore Callaghan even when he kept his distance perfectly.
Suddenly, Marla, my secretary, stepped into the office with a tablet in hand. She hesitated only for a moment when she saw Theo was lying on the couch, but her professionalism didn't falter.
"Mrs. Callaghan," she said smoothly, "I just received confirmation from Aurelia Designs. They're looking to partner with Beaumont Textiles this season."
I raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from Theo's quiet presence.
Why is he here? Well, for show. Or more like Mr. Callaghan demanded after finding out that we aren't really affectionate in public.
"A partnership?" I asked.
"Yes," Marla continued. "They specifically requested our Solara Collection. According to their analysis, our fabrics are among the very few high-end options capable of meeting their standards for the upcoming luxury line. They believe Beaumont Textiles is uniquely positioned to compete at that level."
I exhaled with excitement and relief. Finally, a project worthy of my focus, something to anchor my attention beyond the infuriating husband who was quietly staying across the room.
But then, Marla added. "But Mrs. Callaghan… there's an issue with the Solara Collection samples for Aurelia Designs."
I frowned, immediately setting the files aside. "Go on."
"Well," she continued, scrolling through her notes, "several of our fabrics have passed quality control, but we're short on models who fit the precise aesthetic Aurelia requested for their lookbook. They want experienced models who can convey both luxury and sophisticatio...and our current roster doesn't fully meet that standard."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Figures. After all the effort to perfect the textiles, now the presentation itself was a bottleneck. "So what do you suggest?" I asked. "We can't delay sending the initial lookbook, it'll push back the entire launch."
Before Marla could respond, Theo cut in.
"I might have a solution."
I glanced up. Theodore Callaghan was now leaning casually against the door with his hands in his pockets.
Theo was the last person I expected to actually offer help with a problem.
"You?" I asked flatly. "Do you even know anything about fashion modeling?"
He smirked. "More than you might think."
Marla looked intrigued but cautious. "If you have contacts, Mr. Callaghan…"
He glanced at her, then back at me. "I know a few models who've worked in high-end campaigns. Experienced. Photogenic. Familiar with luxury branding. I can call them, many of them are friends… or acquaintances."
My chest tightened slightly. Friends… acquaintances. I knew exactly what he meant. They were casual flings from his past. The thought hit me like a pinch, and it felt sharp and unwelcomed.
Theo caught my reaction and immediately felt smug.
I reminded myself that this was business. Focus on business.
"Fine," I said, carefully keeping my voice steady. "If this helps meet the client's requirements, go ahead."
He grinned, clearly enjoying the subtle pinch of discomfort he'd caused. "Consider it handled."
Marla whispered, "They'll respond well. High-end models with experience, it'll elevate the collection immediately."
I nodded, but inside… my mind was spinning. Amazed at his resourcefulness, yes. Impressed, definitely. But hearing the faint echo of his past flings in his casual, professional solution? That made my chest tighten in ways I wasn't ready to acknowledge.
Theo noticed the subtle change of my mood, of course. He walked towards me and raised a brow.
"You're thinking too much," he murmured.
I glanced at him sharply. "I'm thinking about the collection, thank you very much."
His smirk widened. "Sure, Mrs. Callaghan."
I turned back to Marla, trying to shove down the admiration and irritation twisting inside me. The collection had a solution. The client would be satisfied. But as I watched Theo walk away, casually placing calls to his contacts, I couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling inside me.
Rule one: no touching.
Rule two: mind your own business.
Rule three: no scandals.
I had followed them to the letter.
But my heart? Clearly, it had not. And I realized that.