Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 137: Something Real

Hailey

Josh is already waiting by the carousel, his brown curls slightly messy, coffee in hand, a lopsided grin on his face. The second he sees me, his eyes scan mine, as if checking that I’m okay.

"I take it you survived the Marcus Ambush of 38,000 feet?"

"Barely," I groan, pulling my carry-on behind me. "He monologued. He pontificated. He called me sharp. Like I’m a cheese."

Josh snorts. "A fine-aged Gouda?"

I smirk. "At least. Maybe a brie. Something with bite."

We fall into step, waiting for the belt to spit out our bags.

"He also offered me permanent position," I say.

"Really?" Josh asks.

I sigh. "Senior editor. Full creative control. Said Luxe needs me."

Josh whistles. "Wow. That’s big."

"It is big," I admit. "But if I take it... it’s going to be on my terms."

He nudges me again. "Now that’s the Hailey I know."

My suitcase finally rolls past and I yank it off the belt, wheels thudding.

Josh gestures toward the exit. "Ready to go home?"

I glance at the revolving door. At the skyline beyond it. At everything I thought I was running toward and everything I thought I’d left behind.

Then I square my shoulders.

"Let’s go."

~-~

The next day, I walk through reception with my head held high, heels clicking against polished floors.

The front desk assistant, Lila, looks up from her screen. "Hailey! Welcome back!"

"Thanks," I say with a small smile, trying not to look like I’m bracing for impact.

I go to my little work area and nearly gasp out loud when I see the display in front of me.

A huge bouquet of flowers was taking up most of my desk. They are not just any flowers. They’re loud, ostentatious, and absolutely impossible to ignore. White orchids, deep red roses, and a handful of peonies so pink they might be blushing from their own audacity.

A small cream-colored card sticks out from the arrangement.

"Let’s build something brilliant. Together."

—M

I stare at it for a full five seconds before I let out a sigh so deep it practically deflates me.

Of course he would.

Josh materializes beside me, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. His eyes flick from the flowers to my face. "Please tell me these are from your mom."

"Nope." I pluck the card from the bouquet and hand it to him.

He reads it, then makes a face. "Ugh. Of course they are. That man has the subtlety of a Chanel logo on a neck tattoo."

I snort, finally sitting down at my desk. "He really doesn’t get it. Grand gestures won’t make me want to sleep with him."

Josh’s eyes turn dark. "Please just let me talk to him once."

I glance over at Josh, his jaw tight, knuckles whitening slightly around his coffee cup. He’s not joking. Not this time.

"Josh..." I say gently, placing a hand on his arm. "I appreciate the knight-in-shining-designer-sneakers energy, but this? It’s not your fight."

His eyes meet mine, still stormy. "Are you sure about that? What kind of man would I be if I didn’t protect my lover?"

I giggle. "Your lover?" I raise my eyebrows.

He grins. "Yes, my lover."

His face turns serious again. "He is making you uncomfortable," he says quietly. "I’ve kept my mouth shut because I thought you needed time. But I’m done watching. If you want me to back off, say it. But don’t tell me this isn’t my fight when I wake up thinking about you and go to sleep wondering if you’re okay."

I don’t think. I just move.

One second, Josh is standing there, all earnest eyes and clenched jaw, and the next, I’m leaning in, closing the distance, brushing my lips against his in a kiss.

He freezes for a breath. Just one.

Then his free hand finds my waist as he kisses me back. It’s soft at first, then deeper.

When I pull back, my heart is thudding like I’ve run ten blocks in heels. Josh looks dazed. And a little smug.

"I’ll never get tired of this," he murmurs.

I laugh breathlessly. "Good, because neither will I."

~-~

The flowers wasn’t the only stunt Marcus pulled today.

By noon, he corners me in the break room.

"Hope you like the flowers, Hailey," he says smoothly, leaning against the counter like it was a photo shoot and not just a glorified kitchenette.

I reach for the coffee machine without looking at him. "What was it for?"

I stiffen as I feel his presence behind me.

He is close. A little too close.

"To congratulate you on your new position, of course," he says, his voice low.

"So you are still offering me the job even though I refused your advances?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

"Of course. I’m not as sleazy as you think of me," he says.

Marcus smiles like he’s trying to wear sincerity, but it doesn’t fit right. Like a tailored suit with the wrong buttons.

"Besides," he adds, "you didn’t really refuse. Not entirely."

I turn to face him fully, coffee forgotten. "You can’t be serious. I definitely refused."

He lifts his hands as if in surrender, but there’s that glint in his eye again—the one that says he still thinks he’s in control. "You didn’t say no to the job."

I cross my arms. "That doesn’t mean I said yes to you."

Marcus chuckles softly, as if I’m being adorable rather than setting a boundary. "Come on, Hailey. You and I both know we would make a great couple."

I scoff. "A couple? Don’t tell me you will give up your playboy life for the likes of me!"

Marcus’s smirk falters, just for a second. "What makes you think I won’t?"

"Because you are Marcus Winters. I’ve done some research on you and..."

"And?" He cuts me off. "You found out I go through women more than I go through designer clothes?"

"That’s exactly right," I say. "Am I wrong?"

He shrugs. "You aren’t."

Marcus leans in slightly, voice smooth as ever. "But maybe I’m ready for something different. Something real."

I tilt my head, giving him a dry, measured look. "And I’m supposed to believe I’m the woman who inspires you to change your entire personality?"

He chuckles, and this time, there’s something smug underneath it. "Why not? You’re smart, bold, impossible to ignore... Maybe I’m done playing games."

"Well, that’s great," I say, voice saccharine-sweet. "You can start by not cornering women in break rooms and pretending it’s romantic."

His expression sours, just a touch. "I’m trying here, Hailey. Most women would’ve said yes already."

I raise an eyebrow. "Then maybe you should go find most women. Because I’m not them. I’m not flattered by the attention, Marcus. I’m annoyed by it. And frankly? I’m disappointed."

That strikes a chord. His jaw tenses. "Disappointed?"

"Yes," I say, stepping forward. "You had a chance to offer me something based on my work. On my ideas. But instead, you used the job as a backdrop for your ego trip. So, let me be very clear—"

I lean in, mirroring his earlier move.

"I am not your next ’challenge.’ I am not your project. And I don’t care how many flowers you send or speeches you give—I’m not interested."

Silence hangs between us for a beat.

Then I grab my coffee, flash him a tight smile, and turn to walk out.

"Oh," I look at him again, "and if you really want to do something ’real’? Start by respecting when a woman says no."

I storm out without looking back.