Marriage Contract With My Secretary

Sumayah Smith believed in routine and that was the only thing that had kept her sane through six years of rejection letters, unpaid internships, and nights where hunger felt louder than hope. Routine was why she arrived at Hills Ventures thirty minutes early every morning, why her desk was always well arranged and she was always organized. At 7:30 a.m. sharp, she stepped through the revolving glass doors, heels clicking softly against the marble floor and her expression neutral. The lobby was quiet, the cleaners were about to round up their morning duties. She rode the elevator alone to the top floor, clutching her tablet and some files to her chest like a shield. By the time the doors slid open, her face had settled into the calm professionalism she wore like armor. Executive floor. Omarion Hills’ domain, The man whose name opened doors and ruined reputations in the same breath. She moved quickly to her desk outside his office, setting down her bag, turning on her computer, and reviewing his schedule for the day. Three meetings with investors. One board call. A lunch date he probably wouldn’t attend. A charity gala in the evening he definitely must attend. Sumayah told herself she was immune to him now. After two years of working as his executive secretary, she’d learned the rules. Keep conversations short. Never ask personal questions. Never acknowledge the women who left his office looking disheveled and smug. Never, under any circumstances, allow yourself to imagine what it would be like to be chosen. Because Omarion Hills didn’t choose women, he consumed them. At exactly 8:00 a.m., the elevator door opened. She felt him walking towards her,she could feel his shadow right in front of her desk. “Goodmorning sir” she greeted knowing fully well he never responds. Tall, commanding, dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, Omarion Hills walked past her desk without a glance, phone pressed to his ear, voice low and decisive as he ended a call. Power followed him like a shadow that can be unquestionable. “Push the board meeting to tomorrow,” he said, stopping abruptly by the giant glass door of his office. “And cancel the lunch date .” Sumayah’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “Yes, sir.” “And Sumayah?” Her heart stuttered. He rarely spoke to her or call her name. “Yes, Mr. Hills?” she replied, eyes fixed firmly on the screen. “Cancel everything else for today.” She hesitated, finally looking up. That was unusual. “All of it?” she asked carefully. “Yes.” He stepped into his office, the door sealing him away, but not before she caught the tension in his shoulders. Omarion Hills never showed stress. Never canceled meetings without reason. Something was wrong. She finished adjusting his schedule and printed the updated copy, standing to deliver it like she always did. Professional. Composed. Invisible. She knocked twice, waiting to hear a response before entering. “Sir, your revised schedule.” “Close the door.” He said with a smirk on his face. The command was quiet. Firm. Sumayah obeyed, her pulse quickening as the door lock clicked into place behind her. She stood in front of his desk, Files in her hand, waiting. Omarion didn’t turn around immediately. He stood with his back to her, staring out at the city skyline as if daring it to challenge him, his shirt already rolled above his elbow. The silence stretched too long to be comfortable. Then he spoke, “Do you know why I hired you?” She hesitated, blinked and finally released her breath she had been holding since she stepped into his office. “Because I was qualified, sir?” A corner of his mouth twitched. “No, Because you’re invisible.” He replied. The word stung, even though she’d built her life around it. “You don’t gossip. You don’t flirt. You don’t ask questions that aren’t your business,” he continued. “You do your job. And you do it well.” “Thank you,” she said, unsure if it was a compliment or a warning. He turned, Dark eyes met hers, sharp, calculating, intense enough to make her breath catch. There was no humor in his expression. No arrogance. Just something heavy and unfamiliar. “I need you,” he said. Her grip tightened on the Files. “Of course, sir. What do you need?” He took a step toward her. Then another. Their body so close to almost touching eachother. “I need you to get married to me.” The words landed like a slap. For a moment, Sumayah thought she’d misheard him. Surely this was a joke. A test. Some strange, inappropriate attempt at humor. “I’m sorry?” she whispered. Omarion stopped an arm’s length away. Close enough that she could smell his cologne, expensive and dangerous. “I need a wife,” he repeated calmly. “And you’re the solution.” Her mind reeled. “Sir, this is…this isn’t funny.” “I’m not joking.” He voiced out, sounding frustrated. She laughed weakly, shaking her head. “I’m your secretary.” “And I’m offering you a contract,” he said. “A legal marriage. Temporary. Beneficial to you.” Fear crawled up her spine. “This is highly inappropriate. She stepped back. “Did you drink sir” the word came out of her mouth before she could control it. “I’ll make sure it isn’t,” he replied evenly. “And I am not drunk, Sumayah.” She took a step back again, putting distance between them, “You should ask someone else.” “I can’t.” “Why me?” she demanded. “Because you won’t fall in love,” he said without hesitation. The words cut deeper than she expected. “You don’t know that,” she said quietly. “I do,” he replied. “Because women who want me don’t look at me the way you do.” “And how is that?” “Like I’m a threat,” he said. “Not a fantasy.” Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to steady her breathing. “I can’t do it sir.” she said firmly. “I worked too hard for this job to ruin it with whatever this is.” Omarion studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. “You won’t lose your job,” he said. “But you should hear the offer before you refuse.” “I don’t need to, I just can’t..” Sumayah disagreed with a fake smile. “I’m running out of time,” he interrupted. Something in his voice, tight, controlled, the desperate tone made her pause. “I’ll explain, if you are not cool,” he continued, “you can walk away.” And in that moment, Sumayah Smith had no idea that her life carefully built on routine and survival was about to start unraveling. “I apologize sir, I can’t.” Sumayah said dropping the files on his desk while she walked out closing his door behind.