Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You
Chapter 167: Feelings For Her

Chapter 167: Feelings For Her

Marcus

A date with some guy named Kevin? What is she thinking!?

I am angry even though I have no right to be. Rebecca has the right to date other men if she wants to.

Except...the thought of another man touching her is making my blood boil. I want to tell her not to go out with that guy. But I know she won’t listen to me. I mean, why would she?

Maybe I should fly over there on Saturday and stop it myself. I may do just that. Oh, she will be pissed and it will be absolutely glorious.

I laugh out loud at my own devious plan.

"Um...Marcus?" I look up to find Hailey staring at me with a puzzled expression.

"Why are you just standing in the middle of the room and laughing like a maniac? You look like you were planning world domination just now," Hailey says.

"It is going to be a lot better than that," I reply.

"Better than the world domination? Okay then," she says, her face twisted.

I grin at her. "Is there anything I can do for you, Jameson?" I ask.

"Could you take a look at this portfolio? This is a new model from Argentina." Hailey says.

I take the folio from her and flip through it.

"Her nose is too big and her birthmark is on the wrong cheek," I say dryly and hand the file back to Hailey.

"Her birthmark is on the wrong cheek? What does that even mean?" Hailey raises an eyebrow

"It means she is obviously wrong for the campaign, Hailey. Find someone else," I say and wave my hand in dismissal.

"Um...alright then. Marcus, are you doing okay? You’ve been pacing your office a lot," she asks.

I look at her straight in the eyes for the first time. "Do you think I am a bad person?" I ask.

Hailey blinks. She wasn’t expecting that question.

"Whoa. Okay. Mood shift," she mutters, then tilts her head, studying me like I’ve turned into some rare, mildly dangerous animal. "What kind of bad are we talking about? Like, tax evasion bad? Or buries people in the woods bad?"

I don’t smile. Not really.

"I mean it. Do you think I’m the kind of man a woman regrets getting involved with?"

She frowns now, the sarcasm melting away. "You’re intense, Marcus. And a pain in the ass ninety percent of the time. But you’re not bad."

I laugh once. Short. Bitter.

"Even though I was inappropriate with you and tried to force you to sleep with me?" I ask.

She exhales, walking over to the edge of my desk and leaning on it. "Is this about Rebecca?"

I don’t answer, but the muscle ticking in my jaw is loud enough.

Hailey lets out a slow breath, like she’s carefully choosing her next words.

"Okay. Let’s just...unpack that."

I raise an eyebrow. "You’re going to psychoanalyze me now?"

"Someone has to," she shoots back. "Look, you crossed a line. But you didn’t force me. And you apologized. Eventually."

I don’t say anything. The silence stretches, heavy.

"But that’s not the point, is it?" she goes on. "You’re not worried about what I think. You’re worried Rebecca thinks you’re that guy. The kind of man she should regret."

My eyes flick to hers, sharp. She hit the bullseye.

Hailey holds my gaze, not flinching. "You shouldn’t be afraid to show your real feelings, Marcus."

"I’m not afraid," I say too fast, too hard.

She lifts an eyebrow. "Really?"

I rake a hand through my hair and let out a frustrated sigh. "You don’t understand."

"You obviously have some kind of feelings for her, don’t you?" Hailey asks.

I glance away, jaw tight. "I don’t do feelings."

"That’s not an answer," Hailey says calmly, like she’s talking to a spooked animal.

I want to snap at her. I want to tell her to leave me alone and that it’s none of her business. But the truth is—I don’t know what to call what I feel for Rebecca. All I know is, I can’t stop thinking about her. Wanting her. Needing her.

I finally say, "She makes me...feel things I’d rather not feel."

Hailey’s expression softens. "Sounds like more than just lust."

I can’t even deny it outright because she is right. "I have to go see her," I say.

"Then go see her. Everything is good to go at the studio. We can cover for you," Hailey says.

I look at her, surprised. "Just like that? You are fine with me chasing her?"

Hailey shrugs. "You are not exactly chasing her. She likes you already. Way more than she should."

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. "Did she tell you that?"

"She didn’t have to tell me anything. I can see it in her eyes when your name was brought up. And you gave her those ridiculously expensive broccoli earrings. My guess is you don’t do that kind of thing for just anyone."

"Thanks, Jameson," I say.

"Just don’t screw it up," she says, grabbing the portfolio off my desk.

I glance down at my desk, her words sitting heavy in my chest. There is a strange sensation—like someone has reached inside me, taken the writhing, hungry part of myself that I pretend not to notice, and set it throbbing in my hands.

For a moment, I resist the urge to look vulnerable in my own empty office. I stare at the folders and the neat grid of my calendar, at the untouched mug of coffee collecting skin on its surface, at the silent phone.

Hailey was honest. Blunt, even. She thinks I’m capable of being good for someone, or at least not actively bad.

If the world were simple, I’d call that absolution and get on with my miserable day. But the world is not simple, and my chest aches with wanting.

I pull the phone closer. Open the browser. I hesitate—because I am still, in many ways, a coward and then hammer out the flight details with the reckless urgency of a teenager about to do something extremely, gloriously stupid.

There’s a moment, right after I hit confirm, when I feel like the air’s been sucked out of me.

Just don’t screw it up, I can almost hear Hailey repeating.

I roll up my sleeves, then sit and stare out the window at the city, letting the adrenaline prickle under my skin. In forty-eight hours, I’ll be standing on Rebecca’s porch. I have no idea what I’m going to say. But I know I’m going.