I Signed A Marriage Contract With My Captain Boss To Survive

Chapter two

Still four years ago…..

Nathan’s POV

A month before the proposal….

“Mr Rothwell!”

“Congratulations on your father's retirement!”

“How does it feel knowing you’re next in line for CEO?”

“Is this some kind of publicity stunt?!”

“What’s it like, leaving your post of team captain?!”

The questions were relentless, and I made no effort to give answers to anyone. I made sure my expression was rigid and unreadable, giving the paparazzi nothing they could twist into one of their ridiculous headlines. People talked more freely when they thought they knew nothing, and I preferred it that way.

Truth was, I was just as shocked as they were.

We made our way through the hyperactive crowd with ease, finally approaching a sleek, black limousine waiting for us. Nora and I settled in and drove out of the premises, leaving behind an array of unsatisfied journalists.

As the limousine headed towards my family's Estate home, I leaned forward and clasped my hands together, my thoughts already racing ahead. The old man's announcement was reckless, and unnecessarily dramatic.

Retirement had been discussed vaguely this year, but this? He knew better than to disrupt my plans without notice. The soccer tournament (TST) was upon us in three months' time, and training was scheduled to begin in two. And I was the captain of the playing team, how was I going to get replaced on such short notice? I balled my fists in anger. I was unprepared for this sudden handover.

The limousine veered off the main road into the San Marino neighbourhood. San Marino was home to wealthy families and powerful business figures, and it has been the home of my family for three generations. The streets as I remembered it were always eerily quiet, shaded by tall, towering trees and bordered by large manicured lawns, private driveways, and massive gates.

As the limousine braked and turned into the familiar driveway made of cobblestone strips, I had an uncertain feeling welling up inside of me. Whatever motivation my father had for doing this, I knew it couldn't be good.

*

And I was right.

Everyone in the family knew that I was next in line. I was the eldest twin, and I had worked hard for this role through years of sacrifices, training and discipline. But my father decided to do what he did best: play games, pitting Lucas and me against each other and toying with us just for some sick, twisted fun. And that, he did, to my succession story.

“Currently, we have a mega deal worth billions of dollars on the table from Saudi Arabia,” He had started, that faint, amused smile playing on his lips. Then it disappeared as his expression turned serious. “It is your first assignment since I stepped down a few hours ago. But it comes with only one condition; you need to fix your reputation.”

“The lawsuits have been cleared,” I answered gruffly, realising that something much bigger was about to explode.

“That is not what I'm referring to.” He adjusted his glasses and looked at me steadily, his gaze solemn. “You have a promiscuous reputation that precedes you. And since you were chosen to be the face of this contract, that image becomes a problem.” His voice went lower and firmer. “For this deal to go through, it’s essential that you’re seen as a family man. It is a crucial requirement for me that you be married.”

I had nearly choked on my drink.

“Otherwise,” He continued, his amused smirk tugging faintly on his lips again, with a deadpanned tone that carried an air of finality. “Lucas takes over. And he's just as worthy as you are.”

Getting married? I had a wife named ‘work’!

By the end of the meeting, I could not work out a deal with my old man. For the first time, it was painfully clear that I could actually lose my position and inheritance if I did not comply. Lucas, of course, was the obvious alternative. He had already tied the knot with his high-school lover two years ago, and they both welcomed a son in the past year. And Lucas, being Lucas, wouldn't hesitate to step in and take over the family business, if the situation came down to it.

I was really in a dilemma, because I had not dated anyone seriously since I attended college. And once I made my first million dollars, relationships stopped mattering to me altogether. Regardless, I still needed a solution, and a fast one. Getting women was never a problem, but after a night of intimacy, none had caught my interest afterwards. After a series of failed link-ups, a friend of mine had introduced the idea of an arranged marriage.

I would find a suitable woman as a wife for a man in my position, someone whose family could offer a strategic, beneficial alliance just as much as companionship. We could live in a beautiful home, have beautiful children and a beautiful life, without me ever having to get too deeply involved with any of it.

It was the perfect plan.

I had already chosen her. Cheryl Donovan, a beautiful, smart, chic and the captain of our female football team, in addition to being my closest friend since childhood, was the ultimate choice. She fit in every requirement. However, just as I was about to announce our engagement to the press, she backed away at the very last minute. She mentioned something vague about love, as if that was supposed to mean something, and I had not been clear with my terms and intentions.

Frustrated, I arrived at the office earlier than usual the next morning. Nora was already there, seated behind her desk with a pen tucked behind her ear, completely engrossed in the laptop in front of her. I paused in the doorway, leaning against the open door, and she wasn't even aware I was there.

Her beauty was incomparable.

I had admitted that to myself on that tipsy night, after we had won the U.S.A. cup. That day, unlike her usual tight bun, she had let her red hair down in a mass of waves down her back to her hips, and revealed soft emerald-green eyes she had always hidden behind thick glasses.

I had hired her because of her professionalism and efficiency, and because she had piqued my interest from the start.

And now, I had tasted every inch of her lush lips, run my tongue along those plush breasts and exotic n*****s, and was filled with erotic memories of how she had arched her wide hips into mine, and the feeling of her walls clenching around me as I drove deep into her, her scent driving me wild. I was prepared to fire her after that drunken night, but she was too good at her job. Thus, I deliberately ignored it and pretended that I wasn't affected in any way by her actions.

That was when the idea struck me.

A contract marriage. I had immediately banished the thought, chiding myself for even considering something so absurd. For one, Nora came from a well-established, cultured Japanese family that had relocated to the States for business. Secondly, there was a huge possibility of her rejecting the proposal, as she actually had no reason to agree to it. I actually preferred people who had everything to lose. They were easier to manipulate.

For days, the thought resurfaced, and I began to gradually welcome it. As much as I hated it, I badly needed a bride, and my father gave me anything but time. I made up my mind to fire her and ask for her hand. Nora's rejection never scared me, I saw it as a challenge. After all, it was every woman’s dream to be a Rothwell.

Then, as if she could read my thoughts, she handed in her resignation today. I wasn’t about to waste that opening. She stood there with a blank, almost stupefied look on her face.

“No.”