Mr Noah, Our Marriage is just a contract

RACHEL'S POV I stood outside Mr. Noah's office, my hands clutching my bag, my knuckles white with tension. My heart pounded in my throat as I took a shaky breath, trying to calm myself. I knew I had no business being here, no business asking him for this favour. But with my father lying in the hospital, his condition deteriorating with each passing day, I had no other choice. The thought sent shivers down my spine. I lifted my hand and knocked, barely able to hold it steady. "Enter." Mr. Noah's voice was composed, almost bored, coming from the other side of the door. I stepped inside, feeling the nerves twist in my stomach. Mr. Noah sat at his large, polished desk, surrounded by neat stacks of paperwork. He didn't glance up right away, but merely looked in my direction, almost as if I were an interruption to his day. "Mr. Noah," I began, my voice far quieter than it should have been. I cleared my throat, hoping to try again with a bit more courage. "I need a minute of your time." He didn’t even look up. "I assume this must be important if you’re interrupting me, Miss Rachel," he said in that cold, even tone he always used, one that was impossible to read. It made my stomach twist even tighter. "It is," I managed to say, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I... I need a loan. My father has been so ill lately, and he needs surgery. It costs a lot of money," I stammered. Finally, he looked up, eyes sharp, as if he were sizing me up. His face didn’t soften one bit. There was no indication of sympathy or warmth in his expression. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, and stared at me. "A loan?" he repeated, the word slow and testing on his tongue. "Can you tell me how exactly you plan on paying this back, Miss Rachel? I’m sure you are aware that we don’t loan to kitchen staff." The coolness in his words felt like a slap, but I pressed on. Pride was an emotion I just couldn’t afford right now. "I’ll work extra," I said, attempting to keep the desperation from my voice. "I can take on more tasks, work weekends. I’ll do whatever you need me to do." He said nothing. He just kept staring, his eyes making me feel smaller by the second. Then, as if on purpose, the corners of his lips began to rise. Not a warm or reassuring smile, either, it was a smile that made my skin crawl, an invitation to a race rather than any offer of aid. "Anything?" he said, his voice soft but sharp, almost taunting. "Do you think there’s anything you could do that would be worth the loan?" My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a glimmer of hope. "Yes, Mr. Noah, anything," I said a little too fast, the urgency nearly choking me. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk as he watched me carefully, his eyes never leaving mine. "Alright then. Let's test you. My family has been on my case; they are pressuring me to settle down. They want me to get married, to show some stability. Even when I don’t think I am ready, I just want them to stop disturbing me," he said, his lips curving slightly, almost mockingly. "If I give you this loan, Miss Rachel, I want you to marry me." I felt the words strike me as if they were physically thrown at me. "Marry... you?" "Yes. If you need me to pay off your father’s hospital bill, we have to get married," he replied without hesitation. "That is the only thing you have to do for me to get this loan. Also, this is a business arrangement; I want you to know, nothing more. Remember, you must not fall in love with me; this is not a real marriage, but a business marriage." His words were so devoid of emotion that I felt a cold wave cascade down my body. It wasn’t a proposal; it was an inanimate contract with no feelings attached. But there was an edge in his gaze, a silent dare. He was testing me, waiting for me to back down. I opened my mouth to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. My mind raced, trying to make sense of his offer. Marriage? To Mr. Noah? My boss, a practical stranger, was treating this whole thing as if it were just another business deal. I glanced down at my hands, tightly clenched and fingers shaking. Was it possible? I was in a relationship with someone else. "Miss Rachel," he said, his voice slicing through my reverie, "I need an answer. Now. If you can't do it, you can go out the same way you walked in. I have important things to attend to." My eyes flicked up, locking with his piercing stare. There was no mercy there, no hint of empathy, just cold impatience. But in the back of my mind, I saw my father lying weak and helpless in that hospital bed, with each passing moment of indecision on my part, he was further deteriorating, slipping away. "Why me?" I whispered the question, escaping before I could stop it. I really had to know why he would pick me for this strange setup. He leaned back, his eyes unreadable. "Because you’re handy. Nobody will question it if I marry an employee. And I need someone who won’t make this complicated." He stopped, his eyes narrowing a fraction. "Besides, I know you’re desperate enough to agree." And it stung, but I couldn’t deny that there was a certain amount of truth in that statement; I was desperate, stuck in circumstances beyond my control. I nodded slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Fine. I’ll marry you." A faint smile crossed his face, one that didn’t touch his eyes. He leaned forward, dropping his voice to a near whisper. "Good. We’ll have the papers ready by tomorrow. No one else will know about this, not your family, not my family. It’s just between us. Do you understand?" I nodded, feeling the full weight of my decision settle over me. This was now real. There was no turning back. He snapped back into his usual cold demeanour. "And another thing, Miss Rachel," he cut through the silence. "This is a business arrangement. Nothing more. You’re here to help me keep up appearances. I don’t want any misunderstandings." His words were harsh, as if I were nothing more to him than a pawn in some chess game he was playing. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "I understand." "Good." He looked at his watch, as if this whole conversation had been nothing but a minor nuisance. "You may leave now. I’ll contact you with the details." I got up very slowly, sapped of all strength in my legs. I headed for the door, reaching for the handle, but his voice stopped me one last time. All I could do was remember my main love, Elvis, who had always been there for me. I could have met him, but he wasn’t up to the standard of providing a lot of money. As I made my way to the kitchen, a thousand questions coursed through my mind. What had I just agreed to? What did this marriage start with? I was scared and uncertain. How would things turn out? I had a lot of questions but I couldn't ask them yet. I had somehow signed away part of myself, and I would never get it back. I just needed my father to be alive & I was willing to do anything.