Chapter 12: Losing Control

Hailey's POV

The penthouse felt different when we got home.

It was quieter. More intimate. Like the walls were closing in with all the tension we'd been building all day.

Maxwell loosened his tie as we entered, heading straight for his study. "We need to talk about the custody hearing."

My stomach dropped. "When is it?"

"Thursday. Ten AM." He pulled out a thick folder from his desk. "Because the first one was postponed. Floyd's team had more time to build their case. Which means they're taking this seriously."

"How seriously?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

"Seriously enough to drag this out for months." He gestured to the couch. "Sit. We need to go over everything."

I sank onto the leather sofa, watching him move around the study with that controlled precision he always had. Suit jacket off now, sleeves rolled to his forearms, exposing strong hands and...

"This won't be quick," Maxwell said, spreading documents across the coffee table. "Custody battles are lengthy and brutal. They'll question everything, your fitness as a mother, your financial stability before the inheritance, your relationship history."

"My relationship with you." I added.

"Especially that." His eyes met mine. "They'll try to paint our marriage as a scheme. That you married me specifically to block Floyd's paternity claim."

I raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that exactly what we did?"

"Yes. But they can't prove that." He sat beside me, close enough that I caught his scent, that dark expensive cologne that made my head spin. "As far as the court's concerned, we're a happily married couple providing a stable home for Gio."

His hand reached for a document, and I watched those fingers: long, strong and capable. Suddenly my brain short-circuited.

Those hands had been on my waist today. Holding me possessively in front of cameras and colleagues.

How would they feel on bare skin? Trailing down my spine without fabric between us? Gripping my hips with that same controlled intensity...

"Hailey, are you listening?"

I jerk my eyes back to his face. "Yeah. Sorry. Had a long day."

His mouth curved slightly, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. "The hearing will focus on three main points: Gio's current living situation, your ability to provide stability, and Floyd's claim to parental rights."

"He has DNA..." I pointed out.

"DNA doesn't automatically grant custody." Maxwell leaned back, and I tried not to notice how his shirt pulled across his chest. "The court prioritizes the child's best interests. Gio doesn't know Floyd. Has never met him. Doesn't even know he exists beyond the father figure he's already chosen."

"They'll interview Gio?" I asked a bit worried.

"Eventually. But not in the first hearing. This one's preliminary, establishing facts, hearing arguments, setting timeline." His hand moved, reaching for another document, and I watched those fingers again.

The way they'd gripped the table in that boardroom when defending me...

What would they feel like tangled in my hair? Sliding along my throat? Pressing into my skin hard enough to leave marks...

"The key," Maxwell continued, bringing me back, "is presenting a united front. Stable marriage. Loving home. Gio thriving under our care."

"Our care." The words felt weighted.

"Yes." His eyes held mine. "You're not alone in this anymore. Whatever Floyd throws at you, I'm right there."

The certainty in his voice did dangerous things to my chest.

He shifted, reaching across me for another file, and suddenly he was close. His arm brushing mine, his body heat seeping through, those hands...

I needed to stop thinking about his hands.

"Your lawyer will ask about our relationship timeline," he said, probably unaware of my internal meltdown. "How we met, how long we've known each other, when things became romantic."

"What do we say?" I asked, trying to remain calm.

"The truth. Mostly." His fingers tapped against the document. "We've known each other for years through your father. Reconnected after his death. Relationship developed naturally from there."

"And Gio?" I asked.

"Is your son. Who I'm raising as my own. The paternity question is irrelevant because regardless of biology, I'm his father now. Legally and emotionally."

"You're really committed to this," I said quietly.

"I told you I don't abandon what's mine." His eyes found mine, and something dark flickered there. "That includes Gio. And you."

"You're different when you're not being..." I gestured vaguely.

"Obsessive? Possessive? Controlling?" His mouth curved.

"I was going to say intense. But those work too."

"I'm always intense." He leaned back. "I just direct it differently depending on the situation."

"And right now?" My mouth curved slightly.

"Right now," his voice dropped slightly, "I'm focused on making sure Floyd doesn't take what's mine."

There was that word again.

My eyes dropped to his hands resting on his thighs, strong, capable hands that had held Kai so gently last night, that had gripped my waist possessively today...

What would they feel like without the expensive suits between us? Without the cameras and audiences and carefully maintained distance?

"You're staring," Maxwell said quietly.

My eyes snapped to his face. "I'm tired. Brain's not working."

"Your brain seems to be working just fine." His gaze was knowing. "Just not on custody hearings."

My cheeks flushed red. "I'm listening..."

"Are you?" He leaned closer, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. "Because you've been staring at my hands for the past five minutes like you're thinking about something very specific."

"I haven't..." I choked on my words.

"You have." His voice was dark amusement and something else. "And now I'm curious what exactly you were imagining."

"Nothing," I said too quickly.

"Liar." His hand came up, fingers tracing my jaw slowly, deliberately, and my breath caught. "Was it something like this?"

His thumb brushed my bottom lip, and electricity shot straight through me.

"Max..."

"Or maybe," his voice dropped low, "you were thinking about earlier. In the boardroom. When I had my hands on your chair. Your shoulder."

His fingers slid to my neck, resting against my racing pulse.

"Maybe you were wondering what they'd feel like somewhere else."

I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything but stare at him while my body betrayed me completely.

"This is still fake," I managed.

"I know." But his hand didn't move. "Doesn't mean I can't wonder what you're thinking when you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you remembered i exist." His thumb stroked my throat once. "Like maybe the rules we set are getting harder to follow."

They were. God, they were.

"We should focus on the hearing," I whispered.

"We should." His hand dropped, and I immediately missed the contact. "But we're not going to."

"Why not?" The words came out low.

His eyes held mine, dark and intense and absolutely devastating.

"Because right now, all I can think about is the fact that you were imagining my hands on you. And that I was imagining the exact same thing."

"The contract..." I started.

"Says separate beds. No intimacy. I remember." He stood, putting distance between us. "But it doesn't say I can't think about it. And it definitely doesn't say you can't."

He moved toward the door, pausing at the doorknob.

"Get some sleep, Hailey. Thursday's going to be brutal."

He moved toward the door, pausing at the threshold without turning around.

"And next time you're thinking about my hands?" His voice was velvet over steel. "Don't hide it so poorly. I can read you better than you think."

Then he was gone. I sat there in the empty study, my face burning, my pulse hammering, completely unable to focus on custody hearings or legal strategy.

Because all I could think about was how right he was.

And I was in so much trouble.