Chapter 8: Kiss Your Bride

Hailey's POV

The dress was basically a weapon disguised as fashion. 

I stood in front of the floor-length mirror, staring at the girl I barely recognized. It clung and flowed in the right places. The neckline gave class without revealing too much, My hair was pinned up in some insane updo, diamond clips flashing like tiny spotlights every time I moved. My makeup looked clean and expensive.

I looked like a woman in love. 

I looked like a liar. 

"It's time, Ms. Ramsey." Maxwell's assistant appeared in the doorway. " The guests are seated." 

Three hundred guests. Celebrities. Business moguls. Every major player in our world, all gathered to witness the spectacle of the year.

Billionaire heiress marries her late father's protege in whirlwind romance.

The headlines had been writing themselves for three days.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the role.

I walked down the aisle alone. No father to give me away. Just me and three hundred witnesses watching my second marriage in six years.

Then I saw him.

Maxwell stood at the altar in a black tuxedo that looked custom-made. Sharp lines. Perfect tailoring. Dark hair swept back, highlighting his violent-blue eyes that tracked my steps.

He looked like sin wrapped in expensive suit.

And every eyes was on us.

Three rows back, I spotted them. Floyd. His wife, Kimberley, looking elegant in pale red. And besides them, Tiana, her expression pure hate.

They were furious. I could feel it from here. And I enjoyed it.

I reached the altar, and Maxwell extended his hand toward me.

"You're stunning," he murmured, low enough that only I could hear.

"You're paying me to be." I kept my smile perfect for the cameras.

"No," his eyes met mine. "I'm paying you to be convincing. The stunning part is a bonus." 

Heat flashed through me.

The officiant began, words washed over, I barely heard them. Too focused on Maxwell's thumb stroking circles on my hand, on the weight of three hundred stares, on Floyd's presence burning holes in my back.

"Do you, Hailey Ramsey, take this man..." 

"I do." The words came out fast and steady.

"And do you, Maxwell Kingston...." 

"I do." His voice was sharp and dark.

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife." The officiant smiled. "You may kiss your bride." 

This was it. The moment we'd planned. Maxwell's hand came up to cup my face, tilting my head back. His eyes met mine for second, before his mouth crashed down on mine.

The kiss started soft. Exactly what we'd planned. Then something shifted. 

His other hand slid to my waist, pulling me closer. His mouth moved over mine with more pressure, his tongue barely brushing my bottom lip in a way that made my knees weak.

This wasn't staged. This was...

A gasp rippled through the audience.

Maxwell deepened the kiss further, his hand tightening on my waist, and my body betrayed me completely. Heat flooded through me. My fingers curled into his jacket. A small sound escaped my throat.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark.

"For show," he murmured against my lips.

But the way he was still holding me said otherwise.

The audience burst into applause. Cameras flashed like lightning.

We turned to face our audience, and I caught Floyd's expression. 

Devastated and furious. Watching me in another man's arms, being kissed like that, while his wife sat beside him.

Something vicious and satisfied curled in my chest.

Outside, Reports lined the barriers, hundreds of them, cameras and microphones thrust forward.

"Is the boy here?" One shouted. "Why isn't he at his mother's wedding?" 

"Mr. Kinston!" A reporter broke through. "Is the boy yours? Is that why you married her so quickly?"

The crowd went silent. Every camera swung toward us. This was the moment to set the record straight.

Maxwell stopped. Turned toward the cameras. And smiled. 

"My family," he said slowly. "Is none of your business." 

"But the timeline..."

"Is irrelevant." His arm slid around my waist, pulling me against his side. "Hailey and I have known each other for years. The rest is private."

The reporters went feral. Questions exploding, cameras flashing.

But Maxwell was already turning me away, guiding me back toward the hall entrance where the reception waited.

We stepped back into the hall's entrance, the heavy doors muffling the chaos outside. The reception room waited beyond: more guests, more cameras, more performance.

But for now, we were alone in the marble hallway.

"What the hell was that?" I finally found my voice. "You just let them think..." 

"I let them whatever creates the narrative we needed." Maxwell adjusted his tie.

"But it's a lie..." I tried to point out.

"It's strategy." Maxwell turned to face me, backing me against the wall slowly. "And that kiss? Also strategy."

"That didn't feel like strategy." The words came out before I could stop them.

Something dark and dangerous flickered across his face. "No?" 

"No." My pulse hammered. "That felt like..." 

"Like what?" He was closer now. Close enough that I could smell his cologne, feel his heat. "Tell me, Hailey. What did the kiss feel like?" 

My mouth went dry. "Like you were trying to prove something."

"Maybe I was." His hand came up, fingers tracing my jaw with devastating gentleness. "Maybe I was proving to everyone, especially my dear brother, that you're mine now."

"This is just a contract...."

"This," he murmured, leaning closer, "is whatever we make it."