Chapter 11: Power Couple Meeting

Hailey's POV

The car pulled up to Ramsey Industries, and my stomach dropped.

Paparazzi lined the entrance, at least fifty of them, cameras raised, voices already shouting before we even opened the door.

"Ready?" Maxwell's hand found mine, his fingers lacing through with practiced ease.

"No." My voice was sharper than I wanted.

"Excellent. Fear keeps you sharp." His thumb stroked my knuckles once. "Stay close. Let me handle them."

The driver opened the door, and chaos erupted.

Flashes everywhere. Voices screamed over each other, a wall of sound that made my ear ring.

"Hailey! Is the boy really Maxwell's?"

"Mr. Kingston! How long have you been together?"

"Hailey! Did you marry him for the company?"

Maxwell's arm slid around my waist immediately, pulling me against his side as we moved forward. His body became a shield, blocking cameras, redirecting the crowd with just his presence.

"Mr. Kingston! One question..."

"No." His voice cut through the noise like a blade.

A reporter moved forward, putting the microphone in my face. "Hailey, how does it feel knowing everyone thinks you..."

Maxwell's hand shot out, pushing the microphone away with barely controlled violence. "Back off. Now."

The reporter stumbled backward.

We kept moving, Maxwell's grip on my waist was firm, his other hand up to block cameras. Security formed a barrier, but Maxwell's presence made them hesitate, something dangerous in his eyes that said push further and find out.

Inside the building, the noise cut off quickly.

I exhaled shakily. "That was..."

"Going to happen every time we're in public." His hand lingered on my waist for a second longer before dropping. "Get used to it."

Then his eyes dragged over my dress again, and his jaw tightened. "That neckline is still a problem."

"Your obsession with my clothing is becoming a problem," I shot back.

"My obsession is keeping every man in that building from forgetting you're married."

"To you." My chin lifted, but my chest felt stupidly tight. "It's fake married."

"Legally married." His voice dropped. "Which means they look, they remember I exist."

I raised an eyebrow. "How generous of you to allow them to look at all."

His mouth curved into something sharp. "I'm feeling merciful today."

The boardroom felt like entering a lion's den.

Twenty faces turned as we entered. Some curious, but most were hostile. Valeria and Simeon sat at far end, their expression cold. Denison was beside them, his eyes dropped to my dress before quickly jerking away.

"Let's begin." Maxwell's voice was smooth as we took our seats at the head of the table. His hand rested possessively on the back of my chair.

The meeting started with financial reports: quarterly earnings, projections, market analysis. I forced myself to focus despite feeling every hostile stare burning into me.

"The stock drop," Denison said suddenly, his eyes finding mine, "coincides directly with Ms. Ramsey's inheritance. The media attention, the scandal..."

"Mrs. Kingston,". Maxwell interrupted quietly. "She's Mrs. Kingston now. Use her correct title."

Denison's jaw tightened. "Mrs. Kingston, then. The point remains, her presence destabilizes the company."

"My presence," I said carefully, "is as CEO and majority shareholder. Whether you like it or not."

Valeria leaned forward, her smile sharp."A CEO with zero experience. No business degree. No track record. Just a very convenient marriage to someone who actually knows what he's doing."

Murmurs of agreement moved around the table.

"Which brings up an interesting question." Denison folded his hands. "How much of Ramsey Industries is actually being run by Mrs. Kingston versus her..... husband?"

My nails dug into my palms under the table.

"I'd be careful," Maxwell said softly, his voice dropping to something dangerous, "about how you phrase that."

"It's a legitimate concern...." Denison spoke.

"No." Maxwell leaned forward slightly, and the temperature dropped. "It's a poorly disguised accusation that my wife is incompetent. Which is not only inaccurate, it's disrespectful. And I have very little patience for disrespect."

"She inherited this company three weeks ago," Valeria spoke. "Surely you can understand our concerns..."

"What I understand," Maxwell's voice was cold, "is that you're threatened. That having someone young, capable, and unwilling to play your political games disrupts the comfortable corruption you've built here." His eyes swept the room. "She's learning. Faster than any of you did when you started. And in six months, she'll run circles around this entire board."

"That's assuming she lasts six months," Simeon muttered.

The sound of Maxwell's hand hitting the table cracked through the room like a gunshot.

Everyone flinched.

"Let me be crystal clear." His voice was deadly calm. "My wife is the CEO. The majority shareholder. Your employer. And if any of you, any of you, question her authority again, undermine her decisions, or show her anything less than complete respect, I will personally ensure your removal from this company." He paused, letting it sink in. "Permanently."

Simeon's face went red. Valeria's eyes narrowed dangerously. Denison looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.

But none of them spoke.

"Excellent." Maxwell leaned back, his hand returning to my chair, fingers brushing my shoulder. "Now. Shall we continue?"

The meeting continued in tense silence. Reports were given. Numbers discussed. But the energy had shifted completely.

And my heart wouldn't stop pounding.

Because Maxwell had just defended me. And the way he'd done it was absolutely terrifying, and I shouldn't have found it attractive.

But I did.

After the meeting, we walked to his new office, it was a corner suite, floor-to-ceiling windows, everything he'd earned.

The door closed, and I finally exhaled.

"You didn't have to do that." I rubbed my arms.

"Yes, I did." He moved to the bar, pouring two fingers of scotch. "They were disrespecting you. That reflects on me."

"Because of the contract." I crossed the room, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Because you're my wife." He took a drink, his eyes finding mine. "Contract or not, the title means something."

"The outfit worked then," I said, needing to break the tension. "It gave power couple vibes. Unstoppable."

His eyes darkened. "The outfit nearly got Denison fired."

"He barely looked at me." I snapped.

"Because he knew I'd destroy him if he did." Maxwell set his glass down. "That dress was a calculated risk. It paid off. But don't think I've forgotten how much I hated watching you walk around in it all day."

"Jealous much?" The word slipped out.

"Territorial." He said, like he was stating facts. "There's a difference."

"Seems the same to me." I narrowed my eyes, heartbeat picking up again.

"Jealousy is insecurity. Territory is ownership." He moved closer. "And right now, every person in this building knows you belong to me."

The possessiveness in his tone should have made me angry.

Instead, it made heat pool low in my belly.

"The board is terrified of you now," I managed.

"They should be." His eyes burned into mine. "Anyone who comes for you comes for me. And I don't lose."

"This is still just a contract?" I whispered, needing to hear him confirm it.

"Yes," he said finally, stepping back. "It is."

But the way he looked at me said otherwise.

And the way my body responded to him being close, his protection, his absolute refusal to let anyone bring me down.

That had nothing to do with contracts.