Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You Chapter 136: Promises

Hailey

The last two days in Paris blur together in a flurry of final edits and portfolio reviews. Josh and I spent our final night walking through the streets, making plans for when we return back to New York. It feels surreal that this adventure is ending—that soon we’ll be back in NY.

"Flight 1422 to JFK is now boarding at Gate 37B."

I hoist my carry-on higher on my shoulder and scan my boarding pass at the gate. The flight attendant smiles brightly.

"Ms. Jason, you’ve been upgraded to first class. Enjoy your flight."

"What?" I blink in surprise. "I didn’t request an upgrade."

"Complints of Luxe Magazine," she says, handing a new boarding pass. "Seat 2A."

Josh raises an eyebrow. "What about ?"

The attendant checks her tablet. "I’m sorry, sir. You’re still in business class, seat 23C."

Josh and I exchange glances. "That’s weird," I mutter.

I give Josh an apologetic look. I would’ve preferred to sit next to him.

"It’s fine," he says, squeezing my hand. Enjoy the free champagne. I’ll see you in New York."

I make my way down the jet bridge, a nagging feeling growing in my stomach. Sothing about this doesn’t feel right.

When I reach first class, I spot my window seat and begin stowing my bag in the overhead compartnt. Then I hear it—that smooth, infuriatingly confident voice.

"Ah, Ms. Jason. What a pleasant surprise."

I freeze, my back still to the aisle, and close my eyes briefly. Of course. Of course this is happening.

I turn slowly to find Marcus sliding into the seat next to mine, already looking perfectly at ho in the plush leather chair.

"This is not a coincidence," I say flatly.

Marcus smiles, unbuttoning his suit jacket. "I thought we could use the ti to discuss your future with Luxe."

"My future?" I drop into my seat, not bothering to hide my annoyance. "You could have scheduled a eting. Or called. Or emailed."

"Where’s the fun in that?" He signals the flight attendant. "Champagne for both of us, please."

"Just water for ," I counter.

The flight attendant nods and moves away as I pull out my phone, frantically texting Josh: SOS. Marcus arranged to sit next to in first class. Kill now.

Josh’s reply cos seconds later: Want to cause a scene? I can fake a dical ergency.

I can’t help but giggle at that.

"What’s so funny?" Marcus asks, looking amused.

I turn my phone facedown, the smile slipping from my lips as I et Marcus’s gaze. "Nothing you’d appreciate."

He chuckles, clearly unbothered. "Still sharp, I see. That’s one of the reasons I pushed for Luxe to offer you a permanent role, you know. Talent is one thing. Backbone? That’s rare."

I arch a brow. "You think manipulating a seating arrangent is the way to win over?"

"I think a little face ti never hurts." He swirls the champagne flute the flight attendant sets in front of him. "You’re about to beco one of the most sought-after nas in fashion. Editorial shoots, brand campaigns, maybe even a cover. But opportunities like that require more than just a good portfolio."

I fold my arms. "They require sleeping with the creative director?"

His expression tightens, just for a second. Then he leans back and laughs softly. "Touché. Look, Hailey. I crossed a line. I admit that. But I’m still the best shot you have at turning this into sothing huge. We work well together—when we’re not arguing."

I stare at him, stunned by the gall of his charm offensive. He really thinks this is going to work.

Before I can fire back, my phone buzzes again.

Josh: Just say the word. I’ll co up there in full ltdown mode.

I smother a smile and quickly type:

: He’s trying to play nice. I think I’ll forget what he said. But I’ve got this.

Then I turn back to Marcus, my voice level but firm. "You don’t get to use this flight to rewrite history, Marcus. What you did was unprofessional and gross. I’m here because I worked for it. Not because you handed it to ."

He lifts his hands in mock surrender. "Noted. But I think you’ll find the industry has bigger sharks than ."

"Maybe," I say. "But I’m learning how to swim with them. And unlike you, I don’t need to corner people on flights to get what I want."

Marcus raises his glass in mock toast. "To ambition, then."

I don’t clink mine against his. I don’t even look at him again. I put in my earbuds, pull up a playlist, and lean toward the window.

Let him talk. Let him try.

I let the music drown him out.

Marcus may have orchestrated this little stunt thinking he could charm or pressure into submission, but he’s mistaken. I’m not the sa girl who walked into Luxe months ago wide-eyed and hopeful, desperate to prove myself.

I’m still angry.

For the rest of the flight, I stay quiet. I answer him in clipped syllables when I absolutely have to, but mostly I keep to myself.

At so point mid-flight, my eyelids grow heavy.

When I stir awake, the first thing I notice is warmth against my cheek.

The second thing I notice is the rise and fall of Marcus’s breathing beneath .

My eyes snap open.

I’m leaning against his shoulder.

God. No.

I jolt upright with a sharp inhale, pulling away like I’ve been burned. My earbuds tangle in my hair as I sit up straight, mortified.

Marcus glances at , a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, well. If I knew you’d end up snuggling mid-flight, I wouldn’t have ordered champagne—I’d have gone straight for a pillow."

"Don’t flatter yourself," I mutter, brushing at my hair and adjusting my seat. "It was an accident."

"Sure," he says, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

I roll my eyes.

Marcus leans slightly toward , still wearing that maddening smirk. "Admit it, part of you likes the attention."

I turn my head sharply, leveling him with a glare. "You couldn’t be any more wrong."

He chuckles, unfazed, and sips his champagne.

I stare straight ahead, jaw clenched, refusing to give him any more of a reaction. If Marcus thinks this little stunt is going to go under my skin, he clearly does not realize who he’s dealing with.

And I’m not falling for his smooth lines or industry promises.