Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 125: Caught

Josh

I recover before Hailey. "Matthew! Long time no see, buddy."

"Don’t call me buddy," he snaps, turning to Hailey. "What is he doing here?"

Hailey steps between us, her expression a mix of panic and determination. "Matthew, this isn’t the place—"

"Answer the question," he demands. "Why is Josh Daniels modeling for your shoot?"

The studio has gone quiet. Everyone is watching us now, including Marcus, whose calculating eyes flick between the three of us with undisguised interest.

"It’s complicated," Hailey says, her voice strained. "But he’s part of the shoot now."

"Part of the—" Matthew stops, the pieces clicking together. "This is why you’ve been acting strange. This is what you and Sarah were hiding."

"Matthew, please," Hailey hisses, glancing around at the now silent studio. "Not here."

Marcus steps forward, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps you should take this discussion somewhere more private." He gestures toward an empty conference room down the hall. "Feel free to use that space. Ms. Jameson, we’ll resume in fifteen minutes."

I watch as Hailey’s shoulders slump in defeat. She nods once, then leads the way toward the conference room, Matthew following close behind. I trail after them, my stomach tight with dread.

The door barely closes before Matthew rounds on me. "What the hell, Josh?"

"I didn’t do anything wrong," I protest. "Okay, technically I followed her here, but it wasn’t as creepy as it sounds."

"Oh really?" Matthew crosses his arms. "Enlighten me."

Hailey sighs, dropping into a chair. "Josh helped me make my flight when I was stuck in traffic. Then he... showed up here."

"And somehow ended up half-naked in front of your camera?" Matthew’s voice rises. "Come on, Hails. You expect me to believe this is all innocent?"

"It’s not innocent," I say before I can stop myself. Hailey’s eyes widen in alarm, and I quickly add, "I mean, the modeling part was an accident, but I did come here because I wanted to see Hailey again."

Matthew’s jaw tightens. "Of course you did. Because you can’t help yourself, can you? Always chasing after whatever catches your eye, never thinking about consequences."

"That’s not fair," Hailey interjects. "Josh has been nothing but helpful. He’s actually good at this."

Matthew scoffs, running a hand through his hair. "Good at what? Inserting himself where he doesn’t belong? That’s always been his specialty."

I step forward, my patience wearing thin. "Look, I get that you’re protective of your sister, but she’s a grown woman who can make her own decisions."

"And what exactly are your intentions with my sister?" Matthew demands, his voice dropping dangerously low.

Hailey throws her hands up. "I’m right here! Stop talking about me like I’m not in the room."

"Fine," Matthew says, turning to her. "Then you explain. What’s going on between you two?"

Hailey hesitates, her eyes darting to mine briefly before returning to her brother. "Nothing is ’going on.’ Josh is modeling for my shoot. We’re colleagues."

"Colleagues," Matthew repeats skeptically. "Is that why you’ve been hiding this from me? Because you’re just colleagues?"

The tension in the room is suffocating. I can see Hailey struggling, caught between her brother’s interrogation and whatever is growing between us.

"We’re... friends," she says finally. "And yes, I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d overreact. Like you’re doing right now."

Matthew’s expression softens slightly. "Hailey, I’m just worried about you. This is your big break, and I don’t want anything or anyone to mess it up for you."

"I can take care of myself," she insists. "And for the record, Josh has been nothing but supportive."

A knock at the door interrupts us. Tammy pokes her head in, looking apologetic. "Sorry to interrupt, but Marcus is asking for you both. The light is perfect right now, and he doesn’t want to lose it."

Hailey nods, visibly relieved by the interruption. "Tell him we’ll be right there."

As Tammy leaves, Matthew sighs heavily. "This conversation isn’t over."

"Yes, it is," Hailey says firmly. "At least for now. I have a job to do."

She turns to leave, but Matthew catches her arm gently. "I am going to get myself a hotel room and tonight, we are sitting down for dinner. All three of us."

Hailey groans. "Fine."

I follow her, but not before turning to Matthew and offering him a sheepish grin.

Matthew eyes me warily, clearly not ready to forgive me just yet, but he nods curtly before turning his attention back to Hailey. She walks out of the conference room, and I follow behind, a step or two behind her, trying to figure out how to navigate this mess without stepping on any more toes.

As we step back into the studio, the tension is palpable. The crew is still watching, but I can see their curiosity mixed with some discomfort. They are waiting for us to get back to work, but I know this situation isn’t going to die down so easily.

Marcus is standing near the backdrop, his arms crossed, eyes flicking between the two of us as if he’s trying to gauge whether we’ll be able to continue. "Everything alright?" he asks, his tone calm, but there’s an edge there, like he’s aware that something’s shifted.

Hailey glances at me, then back at Marcus, and sighs. "Yeah, we are good. Just a little... family drama." She gives me a pointed look, and I nod, trying to show her that I’m not about to make things worse.

Marcus doesn’t push it further. "Alright. Well, let’s make sure we’re all set up for the next shot." He looks at me for a moment, then nods toward the photographer’s assistant. "Get him ready again. We’re rolling in five."

As the assistant leads me toward the changing area, I can feel Hailey’s eyes on me, the weight of the moment hanging between us. I want to say something, anything to break the tension, but I don’t. I can tell she’s still processing everything that just happened.

The assistant hands me a new outfit. This time, a sleek, dark jacket and some tailored pants. I quickly change, trying to focus on the task at hand. When I step back into the studio, Hailey is busy adjusting the lighting, her brow furrowed as she calls instructions to the rest of the crew.

As I walk back onto the set, the mood shifts. Hailey’s professional demeanor takes over. She’s calm and collected now, focused on the work. I try my best to do the same, blocking out the memory of the confrontation with Matthew.

But as I stand there, under the bright lights, I can’t help but wonder: What’s going to happen next? I know Matthew won’t let things go. He’s protective, and this...whatever it is between Hailey and me, it’s bound to stir up more trouble.

I glance at her, and for a moment, our eyes meet across the room. She’s trying to hide it, but I can see the exhaustion in her expression. She’s carrying the weight of all of this on her shoulders, and it’s clear that she doesn’t want me to be a part of the drama—but here I am, whether she likes it or not.

The next few hours blur together. Shots, adjustments, more shots, more tense silences. Every time I catch Hailey’s eye, I can feel the distance between us grow a little bit more. She’s trying to keep it professional, but I can sense the cracks beneath the surface.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Marcus calls for a break. The crew disperses, and Hailey turns to me, her face unreadable.

"I think that’s enough for today," she says quietly, her voice carrying a hint of finality. "Great Job."

I nod.

As the crew starts packing up, I step closer to Hailey, trying to bridge the gap. "What do you think he will say at the dinner tonight?"

Hailey groans. "Oh, god. I am not looking forward to it."

"Well," I say, trying to lighten the mood, "at least you won’t have to deal with it alone."

She shoots me a tired smile. "Yeah, lucky me. I just hope you are good at defending yourself if Matthew decides to tackle you to the ground during dinner."

"I’ll bring a fork for self-defense," I joke.

Hailey’s fingers brush against mine briefly, a touch so light I almost think I imagined it. "This isn’t how I wanted things to go," she admits quietly.

"Me neither," I say. "But hey, at least your brother didn’t actually try to murder me. Yet."

"The night is young," she mutters, glancing toward the door where Matthew had disappeared.

As we gather our things, I notice Marcus watching us from across the studio, his expression calculating. There’s something in his gaze that makes me uneasy—like he’s cataloging our every interaction for future reference.

"Your brother seems... protective," he comments when we pass him on our way out.

Hailey sighs. "That’s one word for it."

"Family can be complicated," Marcus says smoothly. "Especially when they think they know what’s best for us." He glances between us, and I get the distinct feeling he’s enjoying this drama. "I look forward to seeing how this plays out."

"It’s not a reality show, Marcus," Hailey snaps.

He just smiles. "Everything is content, Ms. Jameson. Remember that."

Outside the studio, the evening air feels refreshingly cool after the hot lights. Hailey checks her phone, scrolling through messages.

"Matthew’s booked a table at Lucien for eight," she says, sounding resigned.

"Fancy," I observe. "Is he trying to impress us or intimidate us?"

"Both, probably." She runs a hand through her hair, looking suddenly exhausted. "I need to shower and change before dinner. You should too."

I nod, fighting the urge to reach for her hand.

At the brownstone, we move around each other carefully, like dancers avoiding collision. I hear the shower running in her bathroom as I change into fresh clothes, my mind racing with all the things I want to say to her.

When she emerges from her room, she takes my breath away. She’s wearing a simple black dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, her hair loose around her shoulders. There’s something vulnerable in her eyes that makes my chest ache.

"You look beautiful," I say softly.

A hint of color rises in her cheeks. "Thanks."

The taxi ride to the restaurant is quiet, both of us lost in our thoughts. When we arrive, Matthew is already there, nursing a glass of bourbon at the bar. His expression darkens when he sees us enter together.

"Right on time," he says, setting his glass down. "Our table’s ready."

We follow him to a corner booth, secluded and private. The perfect spot to quietly murder me.