Chapter 5

Alan's POV

Sasha often told me that if the girl hadn’t splashed her red wine over my face one hour through the date, I should consider it a huge accomplishment. According to her, I was the next bad thing after ghosting, that failed relationships.

I honestly couldn’t blame her and might as well agree with her on that note, because I had no serious dating experience as such to defend myself. I was a hardcore workaholic who never found time for romantic endeavors and serious commitments outside of work.

Of course, I had been with a fair share of women through high school and college but they weren’t very serious. I was a top student and that required a tremendous amount of time and attention to studies, and girls weren’t extremely patient to keep up with my preferences.

After getting a job , the intense training and work ethic demanded my full and exclusive attention and I was gladly letting it. It’s a common misconception that people in my field generally feel like they have no time to spare for personal life, but that was not the case in my life. I wasn’t obligated to all of that, I welcomed that lifestyle.

I strived to be busy, hardworking and dedicated at everything I was passionate about and relationships haven’t intrigued me that way. Anything that didn’t challenge me did not attract me and I found relationships falling precisely under that category.

Rachel was no different. She was the epitome of the kind of girls I preferred for hook-ups but that fact didn’t add any extra advantage. Her prior interest in me hadn’t covered anything either, if anything, it only made my task multiple times harder.

First of all, I wasn’t interested in getting involved with somebody who had once liked me, since the possibility of that circumstance re-arising was likely, and I didn’t like leading women on like that, as it was both inappropriate and disrespectful. But ever since I had gotten involved with Douglas, my morals had to compromise. I found myself forced to look at the bigger picture.

Secondly, I hated the fact that I was competing for my chance with a woman who was absolutely powerless against me. It would’ve helped my guilt a great deal if I knew my partner was willing to get married to me. I was not giving Rachel a choice by pursuing her albeit knowing her father was going to force her into it.

The truth of it baffled me. I had always disliked that man for so many reasons and I remembered that mom wasn’t been fond of him either. He had more rivals than allies in his field of business, which was why he had to suck up to his superiors to ever rise up the ladder.

Dinner with my parents was a strange experience. Rachel was awfully quiet for the most part, and I highly doubted if it was due to shyness as Sasha had assumed. Her silence was accompanied by a hint of sadness and even disappointment, and I had a hard time placing where those emotions were directed.

If I had detected any hostility in her, I would’ve understood her behaviour but the lack of it only eliminated the chance that she was acting that way because she was mad at me. That puzzled me further, and even as she stepped out of my car later that night, I couldn’t stop looking at her with cluelessness.

“Are you alright?” I asked before she could shut the door. Pulling it further apart, she poked her head inside. “You seemed lost all day.”

“Yeah, it was nothing,” She said. “I’m sorry if I was a terrible company.”

She had such good control of her facial expressions that half of the time I couldn’t figure if she was being genuine or sarcastic.

“You weren’t. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

She scoffed, “Good night, Alan.” And then, she shut the door.

With a defeated sigh, I watched as she walked up the front door. I had managed to peel my eyes off her only after she’d disappeared from my view. All through the ride back home, I felt dazed. “This is not working,” I muttered to myself and pulled over.

Picking up my phone, I sent a quick text to my friend asking if I could come over to his hotel room for some drinks. His reply hadn’t taken a long while, and luckily he responded saying yes.

Bruce and I were colleagues back in New York. We were also old pals and he was easily my best friend. We’d both flown here together after Douglas had dropped a bombshell on me.

“Did you really tell her that? Seriously?" Bruce asked me with a bewildered expression.

The beer bottles that the two of us already emptied sat idly on the bar counter adjacent to where our tense forearms were residing.

“Only because I didn’t imagine I’d actually end up getting married to her one day,” Taking a long sip, I turned to look at my best friend’s face in annoyance. “Don’t give me that look.”

Rolling his eyes, he merely leaned forward onto the counter and looked at me from the corner of his eye, “Do your parents approve?”

“Mum loves her,” I admitted honestly. “And Dad likes her too, not to mention Sasha. I’ve just taken her to dinner at my parent’s house and she managed to impress everybody, somehow. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t her intention but she still managed it. Mum actually thinks she’s perfect for me, and that if the situation hadn’t demanded it, she would have still insisted me on marrying her.”

“Wow, that’s a strong first impression.”

“You think? I was taken aback too. But I also get why Mum would like her. They’re both sort of similar in many aspects. They’re highly balanced and introverted. I really admire how she carries herself too. Plus she’s highly educated, did I mention she’s a surgeon?”

“Impressive,” He nodded appreciatively. “How do you even know her? She isn’t even your age.”

“She’s just a few years younger than me.” I felt the need to clarify that fact. I didn’t need to feel like I was trapping a young woman into this. Sasha had already accused me of it and I didn’t fancy that reminder. “Yeah, to answer your question, her father works for my mother. Due to their acquaintance, Rachel and I met at parties. I didn’t attend a lot hence why I’m not one of her friends, I suppose. Merely acquaintances. But Sasha believes there was a time when she apparently fancied me.”

“Are you serious?” He scoffed, “Was she in love or something?”

“Not really. I mean, she never gave that away. It’s just Sasha’s assumption, could be false too so I wouldn’t worry about it. She was just good to hang around with.”

“You’d be exploiting her feelings for you if she had it serious for you. That’s not a good thing.”

“I know. That fucking blows. She’s going to be so innocently getting trapped here.”

“Do you think there’s no other shot? I mean, can’t you get yourself a fake wife or something? Like, sign a contract? There are plenty of them interested in it.”

“That’s too risky. They’d be running for their life should things get nasty. A permanent fix is the only solution.”

“You’re making sure she can’t leave your side if things start to go south for you? Given any other situation, I would have been impressed with your cunning mind.”

“It was Dad’s idea.” And I absolutely hated it. It sounded so wrong that just the thought of it was seeming to be gut-wrenching for me. “Plus, I’d get into deeper trouble if someone catches a hint of the contract. It’s too dangerous. Not just for my life, but yeah, it might eventually blow our mission.”

Just then, I felt my cellphone vibrate against my palm upon the arrival of a notification. Instinctively, I looked up to check who it was but surprisingly, it was from Rachel.

‘I had just been convinced to go out with Sasha for shopping tomorrow. She implied that you were to pick me up again, but there’s no need for that. I just wanted to know when and where I should be meeting you.’

“Who is it?” Bruce asked once he caught sight of my tired face.

“It’s her,” I mumbled lowly.

“Marla?”

“No, Rachel,” I said before my fingers started typing a reply.

‘Mom and I are supposed to finalise the venue by 10 am tomorrow. Suppose I’ll pick you at 11?’

‘I’d be coming on my own. Just give me the address.’

‘I insist.’

She’d read the message but the three dots that I’d hoped to see beside her profile photo didn’t appear. Realising that she wasn’t going to reply, I ended the conversation with another text,

‘Be ready by 11.’