I Signed A Marriage Contract With My Captain Boss To Survive

Four years ago….. Nora's POV The wine glasses clicked as we toasted ourselves to victory. That was always how it went whenever we won the game at the end of the season, after all the rough training sessions it took to get here. The difference tonight was the excess amount of alcohol we had consumed, and now I was tipsy. And horny. Members of the team had begun to leave one by one, most of them accompanied by some of the women on the female team. It was not a hidden fact that about eighty per cent of both teams shared their genitals with each other, and while it was against the rules, there were times we let them do what they wanted, as they were consenting adults. Instead, I wondered why Cheryl wasn't here, staking her claim on my boss as she always did. I set down my wine glass on the tray and decided it was time to retreat to my hotel room. The last thing I wanted was an audience to my sudden horniness, or to be stopped by my boss. Because in my drunken state I'm finally admitting the truth that somewhere along the past five years, I had found myself wanting my boss in every way possible. Except, Nathan Rothwell wasn't the one you gave your heart to. Overwhelmed by fighting the desperate urge to climb on my hot, ruggedly-handsome boss who was sprawled across the sofa, I stood up to make a hasty exit. Before I could take a step, he caught my hand, and my heart skipped a beat. “Where are you going?” he said, his voice low and rough, with a slight slur. So he was drunk too. Great. “My hotel room,” Then I added for context and a subtle reminder. “Sir.” His dark grey-coloured eyes, now even darker, bored right into me as he tightened his grip on my hand. Without warning, he tugged me towards him, and in a dizzy second, I was straddling his lap. His hands slid up beneath my skirt, pushing the wretched fabric higher above my thighs. His thick arousal pressed directly against my aching centre, and a soft moan escaped me before I could stop it. He was hard too. Damn it. “What are you doing?” I whispered breathlessly, as his hands traced slow, deliberate circles on my thighs, his fingers leaving a fresh trail of fire as they glided backwards to cup my buttocks. My palms were splayed against his chest, feeling the solid heat of him. He was all soft and hard beneath his shirt, just like I had imagined so many times. “I think you already know,” he muttered, his voice rough, as his fingertips brushed lightly against my breasts. My n*****s hardened into electrified knots beneath my bra. “Don’t you want to come?” “No,” I whispered, although my body betrayed me. I had wanted this for so long, but I knew I had to stop this. “Liar,” he growled, his tone dark, as he pressed a finger to my lips. “I can smell and feel how excited and wet you are,” His hot mouth found my neck, nipping, licking, sucking, and biting. I arched further into him, grinding my hot, wet c**t against the ever-growing bulge in his pants. We both groaned in pleasure, and in my drunken haze, I could feel my resolve melting, giving in to the growing flames of desire within me. My boss leaned in and brushed his lips softly against mine, and I took the invitation and slipped my hands through his smooth, silky hair. There was no going back now. He pulled my face firmly towards his, crashing his lips hungrily against mine. * It was a dull morning, and Los Angeles was uncharacteristically quiet - no traffic, few people loitering about, lower noise than usual, and closed stalls. It was the second day of the Thanksgiving holiday, but as Nathan Rothwell's personal assistant, every day was a workday. I arrived earlier than usual, at seven-thirty, and dropped into my chair, turning my undivided attention to the towering stack of folders on my desk. They needed to be reviewed and ready for submission the moment he walked into the office, for the last time. Yes, I was handing in my resignation letter today. My parents had wholeheartedly disapproved of my job from the start. With an MBA from Harvard, I was painfully overqualified for the role of a secretary when I had accepted the job five years ago. Unknown to my parents, the role was highly sought after, and I was well aware of what I was doing. Working for someone like Nathan, even to be associated with him for a period of time as a personal assistant, secretary or whatever job you had in Imperial Heights, was a secure gateway into the highest circles of big businesses. He was the heir to a powerful family empire founded in the 1970s. Their family's wealth had lasted three generations, and it showed no sign of decline so far. When the current CEO, Matthias Rothwell saw the future and invested in the world of football, the Imperial FC club was created, and it made one of the top teams that always represented the U.S. in world tournaments. The family was thrust into the spotlight globally and thus, everyone around them shared a bit of it too. I had managed to build a huge following on i********:. Nathan was a billionaire in his own right and was the first football star to become one. On the days when the season was over, he trained and worked on their family's corporate affairs, as they also dealt in Real Estate and lots of other sectors. He was a living legend, and I had planned to learn from him, build connections, and swim among the proverbial sharks. That was the plan. Somehow, ‘a short period of time’ had turned into ‘five years’, and it didn't take long for me to realise I would never be in his league. Work and women were Nathan’s world– he was too focused, too driven and a playboy at heart. People were like pawns or pieces in a puzzle to him, and he had to be the absolute best in everything he set out to do, and the ruthlessness he displayed while at it was something I was never going to understand. His public image was quite grey, as he had been sued several times over paternity tests, which, luckily for him, he had won in each case. I hated to admit it, but along the way, I had let my guard down. I developed feelings for him, losing sight of my own ambitions in the process. I wasn't even sure Nathan remembered that night between us. After our encounter, I had slipped back to my hotel room, doing the walk of shame, expecting some fallout. Maybe he would fire me. Or he would say something. But the next morning, he called for our usual work routine, acting as if nothing had happened. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into a month, and he remained as stone cold as ever, while I tried to focus on my job, my heart sinking more with each passing day. And now….. A set of familiar, stoic, heavy footsteps was approaching. I dabbed at my damp eyes with a handkerchief and quickly refocused on the open folder in front of me just as the door swung open. “Cancel my meeting at twelve,” Nathan said to me as he strode past my desk, headed for the massive automatic doors leading into his office. He was impeccably dressed in a well-cut charcoal grey suit, and looked clean-shaven with his dark hair, and even darker grey eyes, not hiding the icy coldness in them. “Tell Richard I want the revised version right now, no excuses.” “Yes, Mr Rothwell,” He paused, and I knew why. I had never addressed him with his surname. It had always been ‘sir’. Slowly, he turned and studied me, then glanced at his watch. “You are early.” “I'm always early,” “Good.” The doors slid open, and he disappeared into his office. I picked up the phone and dialled Richard to relay the message to him. In five minutes, I gathered up the folders in my hands and walked into his office, only to find him hurling his phone through the window blinds, before exhaling slowly in frustration. It was the latest iPhone 14 Pro Max. I rolled my eyes, arranged the folders neatly on his large mahogany desk, then pulled a notepad from my back pocket and scribbled down a reminder to order a new phone. He did this every time he found even the slightest fault with his devices. It was a stroke of luck that Imperial Heights was located in the heart of Los Angeles. “Nora,” he started, shutting the window and securing the latch. Then he turned to make his way back to his desk. “I’ve handled it, sir,” I said calmly, cutting him off before he could continue. “We’ll go with Samsung this time. I can guarantee services better suited for you .” “Good.” He said as he seated himself behind his huge desk, and reached out for a folder. I handed it to him, and his fingers slightly brushed mine. It was nothing. It had always meant nothing. “All these have been proofread and signed?” “Yes, sir.” “Anything else?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. My voice didn’t tremble, though everything inside me was screaming. “I’m resigning.” His head snapped up at my announcement, and his cold, grey eyes hardened as they locked onto mine. “Excuse me?” “I've submitted my notice,” I said, my voice still surprisingly steady. “We have won the game for this year's season. I have been here for five years…” He let out a soft laugh, as if I had just told him a joke. “You are required to give two weeks' notice for your resignation to take effect.” “I just did, sir,” I argued firmly. The colour of his eyes darkened into something I couldn't fathom– disappointment maybe? Nathan wasn't the type to get personal. “It's for personal reasons sir,” I added, hoping to smooth things over. “I absolutely cherish the experience I have gained while working for you,” For a moment, I thought he would ask me why. For once, showed that he cared about that night, that it wasn't a mistake, that it wasn't something he had deliberately ignored. He didn’t even look at me when he spoke. “Fine. You are dismissed.” “Thank you sir,” I managed to say, backing away from his desk as quickly as I could. “And now,” he continued, in a cool tone, stopping me in my tracks. “I need to ask you to marry me.”