Chapter Two ✷ Wedding Contract and Pr Arrangements

It had been about a week since the initial meeting, and Kaliyah's life had been nothing short of chaos.

The media storm was already brewing, with rumours swirling about her and Max Verstappen, though no official announcements had been made. She had barely had time to process the situation herself, let alone prepare for the whirlwind that was to come. But the worst part wasn't the media, the lawyers, or even her father's cold business logic—it was Max.

After the contract meeting, Kaliyah and Max had been encouraged—no, forced—by their teams to meet up privately to "get to know each other," as if this were some kind of romantic courtship instead of a corporate merger disguised as a marriage.

The idea was that they needed to be comfortable around each other before their engagement was made public, and they needed to look convincing when the cameras eventually turned their way.

But when they had met, it had gone nothing like she had hoped.

Kaliyah, still fuming from her father's high-handedness, had gone into the meeting with the expectation that Max would be on the same page—that they could at least talk things through like adults. Maybe they could figure out a way to manage the situation without making things worse for either of them. But Max, it seemed, had a completely different attitude.

He had arrived late, which had already set Kaliyah on edge. When he walked in, cool and collected, dressed in casual clothes that screamed indifference, she could feel the tension rise before they even exchanged words.

"Nice of you to finally show up," Kaliyah had snapped the moment he entered the café where they were meeting, crossing her arms defensively.

She hated the way his presence made her feel—on edge, like she was constantly bracing for a fight.

Max had raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed by her irritation. "I'm not exactly thrilled about this either, you know," he had replied, his voice calm but laced with something sharper.

"Let's just get this over with."

That set the tone for the rest of the meeting. What was supposed to be a chance for them to talk things through quickly devolved into a heated argument.

Kaliyah, with her temper still raw from the confrontation with her father, had found herself lashing out, accusing Max of being arrogant and cold. She couldn't believe he could be so calm, so detached about everything, when her life was being completely upended.

Max, in turn, hadn't taken kindly to her accusations. He had called her spoiled, accusing her of being out of touch with reality, and implying that she was nothing more than a pampered princess used to getting her way. The words had stung, but more than that, they had infuriated her. Who was he to judge her? He didn't know anything about her, about the work she had put into her career, or about how hard it had been to build something of her own under the weight of her family's name.

By the time the meeting ended, they were both fuming, and whatever chance they had at forming any kind of alliance had crumbled into ashes. Kaliyah had stormed out of the café, furious with Max, with the situation, and with herself for even thinking they could come to any kind of understanding. She had hoped that, at the very least, they could work together to make this nightmare more manageable.

But Max had proved to be just as insufferable as she had feared.

In the days that followed, Kaliyah couldn't stop replaying the argument in her head. Every time she thought about Max, her blood boiled. He had the nerve to act like he was above all of this, like he was the one making the real sacrifice, when in reality, they were both trapped. But the way he spoke to her, the way he had brushed off her concerns and dismissed her as nothing more than a spoiled brat—it infuriated her.

And yet, there was no escaping him.

Their paths were now intertwined, and no matter how much they disliked each other, they would have to put on a convincing act for the public. The engagement announcement was looming, and soon, they would have to stand side by side, smiling for the cameras, pretending that their lives weren't being controlled by forces outside their own making.

Max, for his part, was equally frustrated. After the argument with Kaliyah, he had found himself venting to Christian Horner about how impossible she was to deal with. He couldn't believe how entitled she was, acting like this whole situation was solely his fault. She had thrown a tantrum the moment he walked in, and nothing he said seemed to make any difference. Every word out of her mouth was another accusation, another complaint, as if she had no concept of the bigger picture.

He had wanted to get out of there as fast as possible, but the meeting had dragged on, each minute more unbearable than the last.

To Max, Kaliyah came off as a spoiled, bratty socialite who had never been told "no" in her life. She was used to getting her way, and the fact that she was being asked to do something for someone else—something that didn't revolve around her—seemed to be too much for her to handle. He had tried to be patient at first, but her constant jabs had worn him down, and by the end of it, he was just as angry as she was.

What irritated him the most was that they were stuck in this together. No amount of arguing would change the fact that they were both being forced into this arrangement. He didn't like it any more than she did, but at least he understood the necessity of it. Red Bull's performance had been slipping, and the partnership with TAG Heuer was crucial for maintaining sponsorships and securing his future. He didn't need Kaliyah to like him, but he needed her to at least cooperate.

But after their disastrous meeting, it seemed like that was going to be impossible. Now, all Max could think about was how he was going to survive pretending to be happily married to a woman who clearly despised him.

As the days ticked down toward the engagement announcement, both Kaliyah and Max found themselves dreading the inevitable. They had been thrust into this situation by forces beyond their control, and now they were stuck, bound by a contract that neither of them wanted. They would have to play the part, smiling for the cameras and attending events together, all while secretly resenting each other.

For Kaliyah, Max was nothing more than a rude, bossy, and cold person who had no empathy for what she was going through. For Max, Kaliyah was an entitled, spoiled brat who didn't understand the realities of the world beyond her family's wealth. And yet, despite their mutual disdain, they had no choice but to make this work.

Because failure wasn't an option—for either of them.

Kaliyah stared out the breathtaking view of Monaco from her office window, her mind racing with the chaos that had become her life. It had been over a week since the disastrous meeting with Max, and the wight of her situation hadn't—it had only grown heavier. Their second meeting had been no better. It had been civil enough , but before long, their conversation had developed into another argument.

Max was insufferable—rude, full of himself, and bossy, with zero regards for her feelings. And clearly, he thought the same of her. He'd made no secret of his opinion, calling her a spoiled brat who had no idea what real pressure was like.

The nerve of him.

She sighed, turning her attention back to the documents spread across her desk. The wedding contract—the legally binding terms of her arranged marriage to Max Verstappen—sat at the forefront, and her stomach twisted in knots just looking at it.

Every single part of her life was laid out in clinical, impersonal language. It wasn't just a marriage—it was for the rest of her life. A strategic alliance dressed up with white lace and carefully choreographed smiles.

Kaliyah skimmed through the endless clauses again. The contract detailed everything: how often they had to appear in public, the social media guidelines they had to follow, and even the "rules" governing their private interactions. They were to share the same address, and although there was no clause requiring intimacy—thank God for that, every move they made would be scrutinised by the press, fans, and investors.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was a message from her assistant, reminding her of the upcoming meeting. This time, it wasn't just the lawyers—Max, their legal teams, and public relations specialists would all be there to finalise the PR strategy for their engagement.

She groaned. Another meeting with Max. After their last encounter, she wasn't sure how she'd survive another round of bickering with him. They had walked away from that meeting practically despising each other—her thinking he was an arrogant, bossy control freak, and him calling her a spoiled, clueless brat.

With a resigned sigh, she gathered her things and headed to the PR's firm offices, where the meeting would take place.

As Kaliyah stepped out of her G-Wagon, she spotted Max by the entrance, leaning casually against the wall in his usual laid-back fashion. He was dressed in dark-washed wide-leg jeans, a black hoodie, his signature watch, and his typical pair of sunglasses. He was deep in conversation with his manager and didn't even glance in her direction as she walked past. Fine by her.

"Ready for another exciting day of contract negotiations?" Kaliyah muttered sarcastically as she approached him.

Max glanced at her, his mouth curving into a smirk. "I can hardly contain my enthusiasm."

She rolle her eyes but said nothing more as they walked into the building together. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

Once inside, the conference room was already buzzing with activity. Christian Horner, Red Bull Racing's team principal, sat alongside Kaliyah's father, Bernard Arnault, both of them looking like they were about to negotiate the most important deal of their careers—which, in a way, they were.

Max and Kaliyah took their seats across from each other, both of them tense but silent.

The head of the PR firm, Isabelle, stood at the front of the room, radiating polished efficiency.

"Good afternoon, everyone," she began with a professional smile. "We've made significant progress on the media strategy and contract terms. Today, we'll be reviewing the public rollout of your engagement and the social media guidelines that will be implemented immediately."

Isabelle clicked through a presentation, detailing how they were expected to behave in public—hand-holding, whispered affections, stolen glances. Kaliyah felt like she was going to be sick.

"You've both been trending heavily since the rumours started circulating," Isabelle continued. "We need to control the narrative, so we've prepared a detailed timeline of public appearances."

Max's jaw tightened. "So what exactly does 'public appearances' entail?" he asked, clearly irritated. "You want us to be paraded around like show ponies?"

Isabelle didn't miss a beat. "Not quite, but you will be attending several key events—together—leading up to the wedding. These include joined interviews, charity galas, fashion shows, and races where you'll be photographed arriving and leaving together."

Max shot a glance towards Kaliyah. "And how are we supposed 'sell' this when we can barely stand each other?"

"I've wondered the same thing," Kaliyah muttered under her breath.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "That's exactly why we're here today—to help you craft a believable relationship. Public perception is everything in situations like this. You don't have to be in love, but you have to make people believe you are."

Kaliyah's father, Bernard, cut in, his voice calm but firm. "Max, Kaliyah, this is a partnership. You don't have to be friends, but you do need to act in each other's best interests. You both stand to gain a lot from this arrangement."

Max leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "And what exactly do we do when people realise this whole thing is a sham?"

Isabelle remained composed. "They won't, if you follow the plan. You'll need to start posting about each other on social media—pictures, comments, anything that sells the idea of budding romance. We've prepared some example posts to get you started."

Kaliyah couldn't believe it. "You want us to fake a relationship online?"

"Exactly," Isabelle replied without hesitation. "Your engagement will be announced in a few months. Until then, you'll need to build anticipation. Posting candid comments, attending events together—it will create a buzz and make the eventual wedding a massive PR success."

Max let out a low chuckle, his eyes hardening. "So, basically we're playing characters in a soap opera now?"

Kaliyah glared at him. "Isn't that what you're used to? Playing roles for the cameras?"

He shot her a sharp look. " And what about you? Pretending to be the princess of Monaco while being spoon-fed everything by Daddy?"

Her father shot her a pointed look, silently urging her to let it go, but Kaliyah's temper flared. "Oh, shut up. I built Arnault & Co from the ground up. I don't need you or anyone else to validate me."

Max shrugged, unbothered. "Good for you. But that doesn't change the fact that we're stuck with each other for the rest of our lives."

Kaliyah clenched her fists under the table, fighting the urge to scream. She couldn't stand the sight of him. How was she supposed to fake being in love with this man?

The meeting dragged on, with more details about the upcoming PR rollout, the engagement photoshoot, and the wedding planning. Everything was meticulously designed to create a flawless image of a happy, powerful couple—completely oblivious to the fact that both Kaliyah and Max loathed every second of it.

When the meeting finally ended, Kaliyah gathered her things, eager to leave. Max walked beside her as they headed for the exit.

"Look," he said, his voice low, "I don't like this anymore than you do, but we're stuck. We might as well try to make it work."

Kaliyah shot him a sideways glance. "Make it work? You think this is something we can just force? I'm not about to become some puppet for the media's entertainment."

Max gave her a hard look. "Neither am I. But if we don't at least try, we're going to make this even harder on ourselves."

She hesitated. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. They were both trapped in this mess, and their constant fighting would only make things worse

With a frustrated sigh, Kaliyah nodded. " Fine. But don't expect to pretend I like you."

Max smirked. "The feelings's mutual."

And with that, they walked out of the building, two reluctant players in a twisted game neither of them had asked for.

The ride back to her office felt endless. Kaliyah stared out of the car window, the picturesque streets of Monaco blurring past as her mind raced. She couldn't shake the weight of everything that had just transpired in the meeting. The idea of faking a relationship with Max for the world to see—complete with staged smiles, romantic photoshoots, and public appearances—made her stomach churn.

But what choice did she have? They were both prisoners to the business deal her father and Christian Horner had concocted.

Max had been right about one thing: they were stuck, and pretending to be civil—let alone affectionate—was going to be an uphill battle.

As the car pulled up to her office building, Kaliyah stepped out and took a deep breath, trying to center herself. She had barely made it to her desk before her phone buzzed again. It was a message from her PR team.

𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗜𝗦𝗘 (𝗣𝗥 𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗠)
𝗠𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄. 𝗣𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸.

She groaned, rubbing her temples. It wasn't just the media circus they had to deal with now—it was the actual wedding, the lavish, over-the-top spectacle that would have to be staged for the world.

She could already see the headlines: Fashion Heiress marries 3-time F1 World champion in the Wedding of the Year.

It was all a farce.

Kaliyah's phone buzzed again, this time with a call from her personal assistant, Cindy. "Hey, Cindy. Please tell me you have good news."

"Well, that depends on how you feel about your wedding dresses," Cindy said with a hint of sympathy. "The design team has sent over some sketches of your gown. They're going for something classic but modern. And, of course, we need to figure out when you want to start dress fittings."

Kaliyah pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course. Let's schedule the fitting for next week, but can we please make sure it's low-key? I don't need the entire media knowing every detail."

Cindy's voice softened. "Understood. I'll keep it quiet."

After ending the call Kaliyah sat back in her chair and stared at the wedding contract still sitting on her desk. This was her reality now. A life reduced to legal terms, photo ops, and public scrutiny. Her entire future was mapped out by contracts and PR strategies, all while she was expected to stand by Max's side and smile for the cameras.

The next day, Kaliyah found herself at yet another meeting—this time with the wedding planner. It was supposed to be a joint session with Max, but he was running late, which didn't surprise her in the least.

"Hello, Ms. Arnault," the wedding planner, Evelyn, greeted her with a warm smile. "I've put together a few mood boards for the wedding based on your family's preferences and and the aesthetic we're aiming for. A modern fairy tale with and elegant, timeless twist."

Kaliyah offered a polite nod, though her heart wasn't in it. She wasn't the type of girl who had dreamt about her wedding day, and now here she was, planning one that didn't even mean anything.

Evelyn laid out the mood board on the table, showcasing stunning floral arrangements, luxurious table settings, and a venue that resembled something straight out of a royal fantasy. Kaliyah half-listened as Evelyn walked her through colour schemes and potential photographers. It was all too much, too overwhelming, and too fake.

Just as Evelyn started to discuss the guest list, the door swung open, and Max finally strolled in, looking as unbothered as ever. He glanced around the room before his eyes landed on Kaliyah.

"You're late," she said, her tone chipped.

He shrugged. "Traffic."

Evelyn, ever the professional, smiled as she welcomed Max and quickly brought him up to speed. Kaliyah sat swiftly beside him as Evelyn went over the different aspects of the wedding. Every detail was meticulously planned, from the music to the seating arrangements. The ceremony itself would take place in the French Riviera, a glamorous location that would guarantee the world's attention.

As Evelyn spoke, Kaliyah could feel Max's presence beside her, a constant reminder of just how trapped she was. The tension between them was palpable, and every time he shifted in his seat or muttered something under his breath, it grated on her nerves.

"This all seems... excessive," Max said, glancing over one of the mood boards that depicted a lavishly decorated ballroom. "Do we really need all of this?"

Kaliyah folded her arms. "It's what's expected. We're supposed to put on a show, remember?"

He turned to her, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses. "Yeah, but does the show have to be this ridiculous?"

Evelyn cleared her throat, sensing the tension. "We can scale back some of the details if you'd like. But given the nature of your relationship and the public interest, it's important to make a strong impression."

Kaliyah leaned back in her chair, glaring at Max. "It's all part of the contract. We both know this wedding isn't about us. It's about what it represents—our brands, our families, our businesses."

Max smirked. "Glad we're on the same page."

Evelyn continued with the planning, discussing potential dates for the ceremony, all while Kaliyah and Max exchanged veiled barbs and sarcastic remarks. When the meeting finally ended, Kaliyah couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

As she stepped into her penthouse apartment, she collapsed into the plush sofa, pulling our her phone to go over the "social media suggestions" Isabelle has sent over. Each one worse than the last—posts about how much she admired Max's dedication to his sport, candid photos of them together at various events, and a caption for an upcoming picture of them at a gala: "A night to remember with the best company."

Kaliyah grimaced. She tossed her phone onto the coffee table and buried her face in her hands.

How was this her life now?

A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts. She opened it to find her best friend, Maeline, standing there with a bottle of wine.

"I heard you had another meeting with Prince Charming," Maeline teased, stepping inside and placing the wine on the kitchen counter.

Kaliyah groaned. "Don't even get me started. It was worse than the last time. Now we have to post fake photos together, hold hands at events, and smile like we're madly in love. It's nauseating."

Maeline poured two glasses of wine, handing one to Kaliyah. "You got to be kidding me. This whole thing sounds like a bad reality show. What are you going to do?"

"I have no choice," Kaliyah said, taking a sip of her wine. "I'm stuck in this fucking charade for the rest of my life. Max and I can barely stand each other. I don't know how we're going to convince the world we're some kind of power couple."

Maeline smirked. "Well, if anyone can pull this off, it's you. Just think of it as a business deal—one big marketing campaign. Besides, Max isn't that bad to look at, right?"

Kaliyah rolled her eyes. "Looks aren't everything. He's rude, cocky, and completely full of himself."

Maeline raised her glass in a mock toast. "Sounds like a match made in PR heaven."

Kaliyah laughed despite herself. "I swear, if I have to spend one more minute listening to him talk about how much pressure he's under, I'm going to fucking loose it."

Maeline took a sip of her wine, her expression softening. "Look, I know this whole thing is a nightmare, but maybe it won't be as bad as you think. If you play your cards right, this could boost your brand even more than it already has."

Kaliyah sighed. "I guess you're right, I just hate the idea of pretending to be someone I'm not."

Maeline nodded sympathetically. "I get it. But you're strong, Liyah. You built Arnault & Co from nothing. If anyone can handle this, it's you."

Kaliyah smiled, grateful for the support. "Thanks, Mae. I just.. I don't know. I don't want to loose myself in all of this."

"You won't," Maeline assured her. " You'll come out of this stronger, just wait and see."