Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You

Chapter 130: Tense

Chapter 130: TenseHailey

Marcus closes the door behind us, and for a moment, just studies me.

"You handled today well," he says finally, leaning against the edge of his desk. "Better than some seasoned professionals would’ve."

"Thank you," I say, caught off guard by the rare praise.

"Don’t let it go to your head." A wry smile flickers at the edge of his mouth. "Paris is going to be ten times harder. More pressure, higher stakes, tighter deadlines. The client is demanding and used to getting what they want."

"I can handle it," I reply, more confidently than I feel.

"I believe you can. That’s why I pushed for you." Marcus straightens, his tone shifting.

"Thank you," I say.

Marcus nods, then walks around his desk and begins gathering a few documents. The pause stretches, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken.

"There’s one more thing," he says, not looking up. "About Josh."

My breath catches.

He continues, voice even. "The client specifically asked for him after seeing the test shots. They think he’s the ’face’ they’ve been missing. Which means... he’s not just your model anymore. He’s the centerpiece."

I nod slowly, absorbing the implication.

"If something happens. If he walks, or if there’s more drama, this entire expansion could fall apart."

"I understand."

Marcus finally looks up, his gaze sharp. "Make sure he understands too. You brought him in. If this works, you both rise. If it doesn’t..."

"We fall," I finish quietly.

He softens, just a fraction. "I’m rooting for you, Hailey. You’ve got the eye. But vision only gets you halfway there. The rest is discipline."

"I won’t let you down."

He hands me a slim folder. "Flight details. It’s real now."

As I leave the office, the weight of it all settles on my shoulders—not fear, exactly, but the sense that everything is shifting beneath my feet. Josh and I had started as something impulsive, passionate, uncertain. But now?

Now the world was watching.

~-~

Josh is waiting by the exit, leaning against the brick wall with his hands in his pockets. The golden light of sunset streaks across his face, catching the faint shadows beneath his eyes. He straightens when he sees me, that familiar half-smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

"Everything okay?" he asks, nodding toward the folder in my hands.

I hesitate, then hand it to him. "Flight details. We leave in ten days."

He flips it open, brows lifting slightly. "Business class? Look at us."

I smile faintly but don’t laugh. Not this time.

"Marcus talked to me," I say. "About you."

Josh tilts his head. "Let me guess—he told you to keep me in line?"

"Something like that." I pause. "He said you’re the centerpiece of the Paris campaign. The client asked for you specifically."

Josh’s expression shifts—part pride, part surprise. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. You impressed them."

His smile fades into something quieter. "And now the pressure’s on."

I nod. "For both of us."

He studies me for a moment, the teasing gone from his eyes. "Are you worried I’ll screw this up?"

"No." The answer comes out sharper than I expect. "But if things go wrong, it won’t just be your name on the line. I fought for you, Josh. This is my shot too."

He steps closer, gently taking the folder from my hands and tucking it under his arm. "I’m not going anywhere, Hailey."

I look up at him,

I smirk. "Don’t flatter yourself."

He winks. "Too late."

He disappears into his room with his duffel, and I’m left standing in the quiet apartment with the buzz of Paris just beyond the windows and the memory of that night looping far too clearly in my mind.

My phone buzzes so I look down. A text from Tammy.

Tammy: We are taking it easy tonight. Take a nice nap and be ready for the shoot tomorrow.

From behind his door, I hear the soft creak of a suitcase unzipping, followed by a muffled curse that makes me smile. I’m supposed to be focusing on lighting angles, mood boards, client preferences—not on the fact that I’ve seen that man shirtless in more than just a professional setting.

I toss my phone onto the cushion beside me and stand, pacing toward the window.

Josh comes out a few minutes later in sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, hair slightly damp, probably from splashing water on his face. He freezes when he sees me by the window.

"You okay?" he asks.

I nod, not turning. "Yeah. Just... processing."

"Want me to shut up and give you space?"

"Actually," I say, glancing at him over my shoulder, "I think if you left me alone with my thoughts right now, I’d start rearranging the shoot schedule in alphabetical order."

He laughs softly, padding over. "So what’s the plan then? Power nap? Wine and people-watching? Existential crisis over room-service crepes?"

I give him a look. "All tempting options."

Josh leans against the window beside me. "We’re here, Hailey. You made it happen. Just... breathe for a sec, okay?"

I do. Inhale. Exhale. The pressure doesn’t disappear, but it settles—just a little.

Then he adds, with a teasing glint, "Plus, if you short-circuit from overthinking tonight, who’s going to yell at me on set tomorrow?"

"Oh don’t worry," I say, grinning. "I’ll have enough energy left to boss you around."

His eyes flick to mine, warm and knowing. "Can’t wait" he says and I feel his hand sliding over my waist.

I gasp softly as he lifts me effortlessly, like I weigh nothing at all and sets me gently on the wide window ledge.

The glass is cool against my back and his body warm against mine.

"Josh..." I breathe.

He rests his hands lightly on either side of me, caging me in. His head tilts, watching me.

"You are tense," he says quietly. "Let me relieve some of the tension for you."