Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 142: Fire Her

Hailey

Two days later, I am back in the studio, trying to do another photoshoot with Riley. And unfortunately, that includes trying to get Riley to stop posing like she’s taking selfies at a music festival.

She’s standing in front of the camera, pouting dramatically with one hand on her hip and the other in her hair, like she’s about to promote a hair vitamin.

"Riley," I call, gently but firm, "we’re going for elegance, not... whatever that is."

She blinks at me, then tilts her head, still holding the pose. "Oh. I thought this was giving, like, luxury beachwear meets influencer chic?"

"It’s giving... confusion," I mutter under my breath.

I step forward, showing her the stance I want. Chin slightly tilted, shoulders relaxed, eyes focused—not vacant. "Try it like this. Think power. Think quiet confidence. Less... duck lips, more depth."

She mimics me half-heartedly, then throws a wink at me. "Like this?"

I close my eyes for half a second and breathe.

Patience.

She’s not a model. She’s just pretending to be one today. And somehow, she’s been handed a photoshoot she didn’t earn.

"Okay," I say slowly, keeping my tone light, "let’s reset."

She fluffs her hair again and sighs. "You know, Hailey, maybe I just have a different vibe. I’ve got 2.1 million followers. I know what works for me."

"And that’s great," I reply, managing a smile. "But here, you’re selling their vision. Not yours."

She pauses at that. For a moment, I think I see something flicker behind her eyes. Anger maybe.

"Marcus said I am doing great," she says finally, dropping her arms.

Of course, he did.

I keep my expression neutral, though inside, I’m screaming.

"Marcus isn’t the one behind the lens," I say calmly. "And he’s not the one who has to deliver the final shots to the client."

She crosses her arms, looking away like a teenager being scolded. "Well, maybe the client wants something new. Something fresh." freewёbnoνel.com

I walk toward the camera, pick up the tablet where the proofs are displayed, and turn it so she can see.

"They don’t," I say gently. "They want this." I swipe to a previous image—one of our professional models, striking a clean, confident pose with a look that sells the brand. "Not this." I swipe to one of Riley’s shots. She’s mid-pout, leaning too far forward, fingers awkward and face too posed.

Riley deflates just a little.

"I’m not trying to be mean," I add, softening my tone. "But this isn’t just about looking pretty. It’s about telling a story without saying a word."

She looks at me like she has swallowed something sour.

I sigh. "Let’s take a break."

Riley doesn’t argue. She steps offset without a word, heels clicking too loudly against the floor, frustration radiating from her in waves. I watch her disappear into the makeup area before rubbing my temples with both hands.

God, I need a minute.

Or rather, I need to talk to Marcus again.

I walk to his office, feeling determined. He has to listen to me and get rid of Riley. This isn’t working and he knows it.

I walk into his office without knocking. "Marcus. We need to talk," I declare.

Marcus looks up from his desk, leaning back in his leather chair with that lazy smirk he always wears like it’s a tailored suit. He laces his fingers behind his head and raises a brow, utterly unbothered.

"Well, if it isn’t the queen of the studio herself," he drawls. "What can I do for you, Hailey?"

I don’t sit. I don’t smile. I just cross my arms and plant my feet like I’m anchoring myself to the floor.

"We need to talk about Riley."

His eyes flicker with interest, maybe even amusement. "She’s giving you a hard time?"

"She’s giving the entire team a hard time," I snap. "She’s unprofessional, she doesn’t follow directions, and she has no idea what she’s doing."

Marcus shrugs. "She’s new."

"She’s not new," I say sharply. "She’s unqualified. She’s not here to work. She’s here to parade around and get more followers. And you know that."

Marcus taps a pen against his desk, slow and deliberate. "What do you want me to do?"

"Fire her," I say firmly. "Tell her you made a mistake."

He leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk, his voice dropping just a little. "I don’t make mistakes."

There it is. The wall. The power play.

I narrow my eyes. "Why? Why are you so determined to keep her in this shoot when it’s clearly not working?"

Marcus’s lips twist in a smirk again, but there’s steel behind it this time. "Because sometimes chaos is good for creativity. Shakes things up. Challenges people. And maybe... it gets you to show what you’re really made of."

My stomach tightens. "This isn’t about creativity," I say coldly. "You are trying to get a rise out of me because you can’t handle the fact that I am choosing Josh over you. You knew Riley was his ex-girlfriend, didn’t you?"

Marcus doesn’t flinch.

His expression remains maddeningly calm, and that ever-present smirk is stretching just a little wider as I’ve walked right into his trap.

"Smart girl," he says smoothly, as if we’re talking about the weather. "Why I like you."

"Cut the sweet talk, Marcus," I say, my voice low and sharp. "You need to fire Riley."

He leans back again, hands behind his head, eyes glittering with something unreadable. "I won’t do that. Unless you agree to make a deal with me."

I stiffen. "A deal?"

Marcus nods slowly, the smirk never leaving his face. "You want Riley gone? Fine. But you’ll owe me."

I cross my arms tighter, instinct screaming at me that whatever he’s about to propose, I won’t like it. "What kind of deal?"

He stands, circling the desk with the confidence of someone used to pulling strings and watching people dance.

"I’ll pull Riley from the shoot," he says. "But in return, you go out on dates with me."

My jaw clenches. "You can’t be serious."

Marcus stops just in front of me, close enough that I can smell his expensive cologne, see the smug glint in his eyes. "Dead serious," he says, voice low. "One dinner. Maybe two. Casual. Friendly. Call it... creative collaboration."

I step back, disgust rising in my throat. "You’re blackmailing me."

He lifts his hands like he’s innocent. "No, no. Just offering a professional exchange. You get what you want, Riley out. I get... what I want."

"And what is that exactly?" I ask, heat in my voice. "To sleep with me?"

He shrugs. "If it happens, it’ll happen."

I try to keep my anger under control. "I am not going out with you," I say through gritted teeth."

"Then she stays. Now go and take some great pictures," Marcus says lightly.

I stare at him, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. Not from embarrassment but pure, livid rage.

"You’re disgusting," I say quietly, my voice shaking with control. "Do you even hear yourself?"

Marcus simply smiles, unbothered. "It’s just business, Hailey. Compromise. You scratch my back—"

"I’d rather set myself on fire."

I turn sharply, my boots echoing against the floor as I storm out of his office.