Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 123: Female Wrath

Marcus

Hailey Jameson intrigues me.

Not in the way most women do, of course. I’ve had plenty of those. The kind that look at me with wide eyes, hoping to catch my attention, dreaming of covers and center spreads. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Disposable ambitions, all of them.

But Hailey is different. There’s a rawness to her work that can’t be taught. A perspective that cuts through the glossy artifice most photographers hide behind. She sees things—really sees them.

I lean back in my chair, reviewing the security footage from last night. The camera sweeps across the empty studio, shadows stretching like fingers across the concrete floor. Nothing seems unusual. Yet someone was here, taking those photos, watching us all.

I pause the tape, focusing on a flicker of movement near the equipment room. There, a shadow moving where it shouldn’t be. I rewind, slow it down. The figure is careful, staying just out of the camera’s full view.

Amateur. If you’re going to break in somewhere, at least learn the blind spots first.

I snap a screenshot and zoom in, but the resolution blurs. All I can make out is a tall figure in dark clothing. Could be anyone—staff, cleaning crew, one of the models.

Or someone else entirely.

My phone buzzes with a message from Vivian.

"Client loves the preliminary shots. Especially the ones with the new male model. Who is he and where did you find him?"

I smirk. Josh Daniels. The wild card who showed up out of nowhere and somehow fit perfectly into our narrative. The chemistry between him and Hailey is undeniable—crackling through every frame. It’s rare to capture that kind of authentic tension.

Which makes the sabotage attempts all the more interesting.

Someone wants him gone badly enough to risk everything. But who? And why?

I scroll through the staff list, mentally crossing off names. Most of these people have worked with me for years. They know better than to mess with my shoots.

Unless it’s not about the shoot at all. Unless it’s something more personal.

The door opens without a knock, and I look up to see Tammy standing there, tablet in hand.

"You wanted the background checks?" she asks, her expression carefully neutral.

I nod. "All of them."

Her lips press into a thin line, but she nods. "Will there be anything else?"

"Yes. I want the security team doubled tonight. And I want eyes on Josh Daniels and Hailey Jameson at all times."

Tammy raises an eyebrow. "You think they are both in danger?"

I consider this. "I think someone’s playing a dangerous game. And I don’t like games I’m not controlling."

Tammy nods, though there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—concern, maybe. Or doubt. I can’t blame her. It’s not every day I go full paranoia and start issuing surveillance orders on my own staff.

Still, I didn’t get this far by being naïve.

"They won’t like it," she says carefully. "Hailey, especially."

"She doesn’t need to like it," I reply, cool and firm.

"Understood," Tammy says and turns.

"One more question," I ask, making her turn to me again. "What’s going on between Josh and Hailey?"

Tammy raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"What is the nature of their relationship? Is he her boyfriend?" I ask, unable to contain my curiosity.

Tammy groans. "Come on, Marcus. Don’t tell me you are considering Hailey as your next target."

I grin and lie back on my chair. "Why not?"

"Because she’s not like your other bimbos," she says simply.

I tilt my head, amused. "Different in what way?"

"She is sharp. Grounded. She’s here to work, not to play your games." Tammy crosses her arms. "She’ll make you bleed."

I chuckle under my breath. The idea of bleeding for a woman is ludicrous to me. I’ve just always made sure I come out of these... get-togethers unharmed. Nothing fatal. Nothing permanent.

But Hailey?

Hailey has the kind of edge that cuts before you even realize you’re bleeding. It’s in the way she looks at you...

I’ve built a reputation out of being untouchable, unshakeable. The puppeteer behind every lens, every smirk, every calculated move. I don’t get involved. I orchestrate. I command.

But something about Hailey disrupts the rhythm. And I don’t like being disrupted.

I stand, restless now, and pace toward the window.

A knock at the door.

I don’t answer. It opens anyway.

As soon as the door flies open, the scent of expensive perfume floats in. Floral. Too sweet.

"Marcus, you bastard!" comes the voice, high-pitched and angry.

I turn slowly, already bracing myself.

Standing in the doorway, stilettos planted like weapons, is Lena Vale.

Once the face of our fall campaign, Lena had the kind of beauty that sparked scandals and the kind of ego that lit them on fire. She’s dressed like she walked out of a fashion week finale, tight leather, oversized sunglasses, and a venomous pout.

"Lena," I say, voice flat. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Don’t act coy with me, Marcus. You know why I am here," she hisses.

"Actually, I don’t," I say.

"WHY DID YOU GHOST ME?" she cries.

I let out a short breath of amusement, though there’s no humor in it. "Ghost you? Really, Lena? You make it sound like we were dating."

Her jaw clenches. "We were something."

"No," I say, moving behind my desk and sitting, calm and slow. "We were convenient. For a time. Then you stopped being useful, and I stopped pretending."

The sting lands exactly where I intended it to. Her eyes narrow to slits, fury vibrating through every inch of her.

"You’re such a cold bastard," she spits. "I gave you everything, Marcus. My face. My body. My name. I made your campaign unforgettable!"

I lean back in my chair. "You posed. The photographer made it unforgettable. And you got what you wanted out of it. Money, fame, career. Not sure why you are acting like I used you."

Her nostrils flare, and for a moment I wonder if she’ll throw something. Her purse, maybe, or one of those spiked heels. Instead, she takes a slow step closer, teeth bared in a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

"You think you’re so clever, don’t you?" she says, voice dropping into a cold purr. "So untouchable. But even kings bleed when they get sloppy."

I arch an eyebrow, unmoved. "Is that a threat, Lena? Because if it is, it’s a weak one."

Her facial expression softens. "I am not trying to threaten you, Marcus. I simply want us to start over. I think we would make a power couple."

I stare at her, momentarily caught off guard by the shift. One second, she’s fire and claws ready to burn it all down, and the next, she’s purring proposals like we are characters in a glossy magazine spread.

"I told you this before, Lena. I don’t date and I don’t plan on dating or having any kind of relationships. Now if you will excuse me, I have another meeting in a few minutes," I say, offering her my most charming smile.

Her eyes flare with fury. "I’m not finished with you!"

"You’re wasting my time," I say, cutting her off.

She lets out an explosive laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. "You’re pathetic. You think you’re so clever, but all you’re doing is digging your own grave. You’ll see. I’m done with you."

Lena grabs her oversized sunglasses off the desk and slams them onto her face with exaggerated force. "Have fun pretending you’re still in control, Marcus. But mark my words, you’re not. I’ll be the one laughing when your empire crumbles."

She turns on her heel and storms out, the door slamming so hard it rattles the walls.

I stare at the door, still and unblinking. Not the first time I had to face a female’s wrath and won’t be the last.