Chapter 8: After Party

Hailey's POV

The reception hall glittered like a fever dream: crystal, champagne, candlelight reflecting off mirrors that made the crowd seem endless. Three hundred guests or more in designer everything, all watching us.

Maxwell's hand never left my body.

At this champagne toast, his palm pressed against my lower back. During dinner, his fingers traced patterns on my thigh under the table. When we stood to greet guests, he kept me tucked against his side like I was on leash.

"Smile," he whispered in my ear as another board member approached.

I forced my mouth to curve, but kept my voice low. "I know how to smile."

"Then do it without looking like you want to run." He said, his voice low and controlled.

"Maybe I do want to run." I leaned into him slightly for show. "From you bossing me around every five seconds."

His hand tightened on my waist. "We're selling an illusion. That requires consistency."

"It requires you to chill." My nails dug slightly into his arm. "I'm not a puppet."

"No," His voice dropped. "You're my wife. Act like it."

The board member, Simeon, congratulated us with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Quite the whirlwind romance."

"Some things move fast when they're right." Maxwell's voice was smooth, but his grip on me was borderline bruising.

When Simeon left, I tried to step away. Maxwell's hand didn't budge.

"Let go for two seconds...." My voice was slightly irritated.

"No." He said without looking at me.

"Maxwell..."

"Touch my arm." He looked at me. "Now."

Something in his tone made my spine straighten, but I did it anyway. My hand slid up his muscles, and I felt him tense.

"Tilt your chin up." His lips curved into something sinister. "Look at me like you're obsessed."

"I'm not obsessed." My voice was starting to lose control. "I'm annoyed...."

"Then fake it better." His thumb stroked my waist. "They're watching for cracks."

And he was right, around us whispers were building.

"They look unreal together."

"Their chemistry is insane."

"Did you see that kiss earlier?"

That was perfect. Exactly what we needed, even though I wanted to strangle him.

The first dance was announced, and Maxwell led me to the center of the floor. The music started, something slow and romantic.

His hand settled on my waist. Mine on his shoulder.

Then he pulled me in, hard.

My body pressed flush against his, and I gasped. "What are you...."

"Follow my lead." His voice was low. "And try not to look like you hate me."

"Hard when you keep manhandling me..."

"Then stop fighting it." His hand spread across my lower back, holding me there."This works better when you cooperate."

We moved together and it shouldn't have felt this natural. But our bodies fitted perfectly, his hand guiding me effortlessly through the steps even as there was tension between us.

"You're enjoying this," I muttered.

"Extremely." His eyes held mine. "Watching you pretend to be in love, while simultaneously wanting to kill me? Entertaining as hell."

I rolled my eyes. "You're the worst."

His mouth curved. "And yet here you are. In my arms. Wearing my ring."

The music rose, and he spun me out, then pulled me back in even closer. My chest pressed against his, my face inches from his throat.

"Careful, princess." His voice was low. "You're starting to look convincing."

"That's the point, right?" I whispered. "To convince everyone?"

"Everyone?" His hand flexed on my back. "Or just him?"

Three tables away, Floyd sat still, champagne glass gripped too tight, his eyes locked on us with barely contained anger.

"Maybe both." I admitted.

Maxwell's mouth curved into something vicious again. Then he dipped me, low and dramatic, and when he pulled me back up, his lips brushed my ear.

"Then let's make it hurt."

An hour later, I escaped to the terrace.

I leaned against the railing, breathing cold air, trying to process everything. The performance. The touches. The way my kept betraying me around me.

"Running away already?"

The voice behind me made my blood run cold.

I turned. Floyd stood in the doorway, tuxedo disheveled, eyes too bright from too much champagne.

"I needed air." I kept my voice steady.

"I bet." He moved closer, and I smelled the alcohol. "Marrying my brother. Letting him claim my son. Playing perfect family while I..." He cut himself off, jaw tightening.

"You made your choice six years ago." I said, stepping back a little.

"I made a mistake." He closed the distance, backing me against the railing. "I should have..."

"Should have what?" My voice hardened. "Kept me as your backup plan?"

"You were pregnant." His hand shot out, gripping my arm. "You hid my son...."

"Let go." I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

"Not until you admit it. That he's mine." His voice was rough. "That this whole thing is just you trying to...."

"Is there a problem?"

The voice came from behind Floyd. It Maxwell, vibrating with barely controlled violence.

Floyd's hand loosened slightly. "This is between me and...."

"Take your hand off her." Maxwell's voice was surprisingly calm but deadly. "Now."

"Or what?" Floyd turned, swaying slightly. "You'll..."

Maxwell moved with brutal speed, ripping Floyd away from me and shoving him hard against the railing. Around us, guests poured into the terrace. Cameras appeared, sensing drama.

"Listen carefully." Maxwell's voice was cold and deadly. "Because I'm only saying this once. This woman is mine now. You don't look at her. You don't speak to her. You definitely don't put your goddamn hands on her."

"She was my wife...."

"She was a contract you couldn't wait to terminate." Maxwell leaned closer, his voice dropping. "And that boy you're suddenly so interested in? The one you never knew existed because she didn't think you deserved to? He's mine too now. So back off."

Floyd's face went red. "You can't just..."

"I can do whatever I want." Maxwell's smile was so sinister. "Because unlike you, I don't abandon what's mine. I don't discard people when something better comes along. And I sure as hell don't get to play devoted father after six years of radio silence."

"That child is my blood..."

"That child," Maxwell interrupted, his voice dropping into something terrifying, "doesn't know you exist. And if I have any say in it, he never will. Because the last thing he needs is a father who's only interested in him out of guilt and ego."

Cameras flashed around us, capturing everything.

Floyd looked at me, something broken in his eyes. "Hailey...."

"Go back to your wife." My voice was steady, even though my heart was racing. "The one you actually chose."

He flinched. Then his expression twisted into something ugly.

"This isn't over." He straightened his jacket. "That boy is mine. DNA doesn't lie."

"No." Maxwell stepped between us again. "But it doesn't make you a father. Now get the hell out of my sight before I forget we're technically family."

Floyd shoved past him, disappearing into the reception. Silence fell over the terrace.

Then Maxwell turned to me, his hands coming up to my arms, eyes scanning me.

"Did he hurt you?" His voice was rough and filled with anger.

"I'm fine...."

His thumb brushed over the forming bruise on my arm and something lethal flashed across his face.

"He shouldn't have touched you." his hands slid down to my shoulders, "you're my wife now. So no one touches you."