Bound to the cold hearted ceo

I was lying in bed, huddled beneath the covers, with my eyes fixed upon the ceiling, and was as wide awake as thorny fences. It was the squeaky sound of the fan rotating above that somehow drew my attention. I never had trouble sleeping. I never had a problem sleeping even after long and tiresome working hours. But tonight was different. I turned the pillow this side and that, but I could not get settled. I knew why. In my thoughts, I was still clung to all that had occurred yesterday. I kept on replaying it in my mind. It was the end of my shift in the five-star restaurant that I worked in. The phone ringing came when I was tired of my sore feet and body needed rest. The caller ID made me groan. It was my father. "Hey, Dad..." I muttered, half relieved. However, a woman was talking in the line instead of his voice. "Nora Whitfield?" "Yes?" I said cautiously, confused. "This is Doctor Mildred. Your father is in our care." My heart sank. "I'll be there right away." I got out of bed, put on my slippers and nearly ran to the hospital. There was no one in the lobby, and my strides were hastened on the tiles. I almost bumped into a nurse. "Sorry!" I panted, holding my hand up. She made me a little, sympathetic nod, and moved aside. I would like to see my father, Harold Whitfield, I said to the receptionist. She hastened me to his room, where she indicated the nurse I had just almost ran over. I looked outside the ward and saw my father quarrelling with the doctor. He appeared obstinate, nearly childish, and was waving his hands as the doctor attempted to talk with him. I opened the door softly, and when he discovered me his weary face was brightened. He smiled, that smile which made me feel pleased and anxious both together. I did not want to smile back, but it was hard. The physician, the man who had called me on, looked at me and smiled in a cordial professional manner. "He was lucky this time. We might have lost him indeed, I said to myself. I swallowed hard. I felt my words more than I had anticipated. I will see that he takes his medicine and sleeps, I said, attempting to sound confident which was not really the case as my heart was racing. I hope we may count on you, she said to herself. Your father is a very obstinate man. I chuckled nervously. She was not mistaken--he never heard anybody. The doctor got away shortly after and left me alone with my father. He looked up at me with his puppy-dog eyes, the expression he always employed to warm me. "Dad?" "Yes, sweetie?" His response was too soft to be natural on his part. Why take your life in such a manner? My voice was sharper than I meant. I asked. Ari, all this is a risk, everything, said he calmly. Even going to bed at night is dangerous. No one knows what tomorrow will bring. I frowned. "That's not the point. Why do you work so hard after all you have gone through? I must work, Nora, I must work, he said to himself. "No, Dad. That's for me to do." I didn't even hesitate. Since his small business collapsed, I had been taking care of him. I did not mind, as I had not had a proper job opportunity yet. He sighed, making an uncomfortable movement. It is more complicated than that. "Then tell me. What's wrong?" I asked, leaning in. I could read between the lines of his body language. "I... I got some money on loan, I confessed, not looking at me. "For what?" I asked, my pulse quickening. It was in the interest of the business, but you see, as you know, it did not succeed, he said in a shadow of shame. My hand was resting lightly upon his. "And you can't pay it back?" I asked softly. I do not believe I can make it on time, he said to himself. "How much do you owe?" He mumbled a word I did not hear. "Say that again?" I pressed. Five million, he said, and scarcely above a whisper. "Five million?" I echoed, shocked. I felt tightness in my chest and drew a shaking breath. We will make something out of it, I said, trying to get my thoughts to quiet down. "Maybe we can get a loan, or..." My mind raced for solutions. It is before next week, he said, and there is an element of despair in his voice. I froze. "Next week?" I whispered to myself. I was walking around the room, attempting to absorb the impossible figure and the impossible short time. He looked down, reluctant. There is... an offer on the table that may cancel out the debt altogether. I stopped pacing. "What kind of offer?" I hoped my heart had to skip a beat. His glance flicked toward mine, uncertain. I do not believe you can do it, he said to himself. "I want to hear it," I said firmly. He... he wants to marry you, he said at last. I laughed. It began with a little, timid laugh, and soon became more forceful. Surely he was joking. My father was dramatic at times. As I finally glanced at him, the sternness in his eyes paralysed me. This was no joke. "And you agreed to this?" I questioned, my nose twitching in indignation. "No, no. I should never oblige you, he quickly said. "I just... I wanted you to hear him out." This is crazy, dad... this is crazy, I said, shaking my head. He will call you, he said with a little almost secretive smile. "Who is this... mystery man?" I asked, my mind spinning. You will, you will, he said with a wink, and so left me even more than usual puzzled. I walked out of the hospital with a thousand thoughts in my mind. Each backward movement towards my apartment was heavier than the previous one. Sleep was impossible. I sat before the TV and allowed the screen to flicker with colors and voices which I hardly heard. At five in the morning, I felt like it was time to get ready to work. My shift was early and the restaurant was not busy at that time and this meant I had to work both morning and evening shifts. The evenings were tiresome, the mornings were worse still. I gazed at my image in the mirror. Dark circles were drawn under my eyes, evidence of my bad night. I was too tired to conceal them with make-up. I brushed my hair, which was thick and black, into a ponytail. I looked at my clothes: black jeans and a warm up polo which my father brought me on Valentine Day. It was a gift that I smiled a little at, but the recollection of the conversation of yesterday soon banished it. I pulled the jeans in my nervousness. They were tight, revealing a bit more than I was shy about, yet I had no time to think about it. I picked up my bag and gave a last look at the mirror. I took a great breath and shut the door after me and went out into the cool morning air. My heart was still racing. This was going to be a long day and I knew it. Questions were still turning around my head. Who was this fellow my father was talking about? But how might marriage clear off five million in debt? And why did it seem that my life was going to be different? Everyone had disappeared and I was walking fast towards the bus stop but my mind was heavier than my feet. I jumped in my heart when my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an unknown number. I stood there looking at the screen. Could this be him? The man, my father said, would call? I had a moment of hesitation, and replied, scarcely able to maintain my voice. "Hello?" A pause was made on the other end. Then a low, soothing voice called, "Is this Nora Whitfield? My stomach twisted. It was him. "Yes," I said cautiously. It is Damian Kingston, he said in a smooth voice. I think we have something to speak about. I stood still with a tightening of my bag. His voice was cold, measured, but there was something behind it which I could not place. "What... what do you mean?" I questioned, a little tremulous. After a silence, he said, Your father said you might be of help to him. I trust you are ready to listen to my suggestion. I took a shaky breath. "Proposal? What proposal?" There was another pause. I heard a weak tapping of a pen against a desk on the phone. "Marriage," he said finally. "I need you to marry me." My jaw dropped. I was as though the air had been vacuumed out of the room. I couldn't breathe. "Marry you?" I said to myself, my heart would not believe what I heard. "Yes. It would fix a lot of issues on both our families," he said as though it were the easiest thing in the world. I stumbled backwards a step, my hand against the wall. "I... I don't even know you." You will, said he in a kind of promise. But tell me first, will you at least hear me? My throat was parched, and I swallowed hard. My life was going out of control and I knew not how to put it to a stop. "...I guess," I whispered. "I will listen." The street was silent, and only the moaning of the city beyond was audible. I clutched my bag more firmly, and looked at nothing, my head whirling. Could I really consider this? Is it possible that my life will change so much in a single day? And what would you say... next... yes? My heart beat wildly, and my mind whirled in an agony of fear, perplexity, and something I could not identify. It was early in the morning, and already I had the impression that the world had moved underneath my feet. I sighed and told myself... could I trust this stranger with not only the debt of my father, but also my whole future? And more than that... would I be able to survive what was to come?