Why are you with the boss

CHAPTER 32: WHY ARE YOU WITH THE BOSS?

RACHEL'S POV

The moment I step out of the car, I feel the weight of their eyes on me. A few of my colleagues are gathered near the entrance. I believe they just arrived a few minutes before us as they are yet to even settle down or compose themselves.

Their conversations come to a sudden halt as they notice me coming out of Noah’s sleek black car, which is behind me, heading towards the general parking lot. The unspoken question is written all over their faces, and before I can make a discreet escape, one of them, Claire by name, steps forward.

   "Rachel?" she says, her tone laced with curiosity. "That's suspicious. Did you just get out of that car? Our Boss's car?"

I school my expression into something neutral, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, yeah," I answer, shifting my purse on my shoulder. "Mr Noah happened to see me looking for a cab and offered a ride since we were heading in the same direction."

There's a moment of silence as they process my words. 

   "Really?"

   "What? Were you looking for a more technical dramatic answer?" 

   "Not really," they chuckled.

   "Our boss is a very nice man," 

    "Yeah. And even if he wasn't, in terms of relationship, I bet he won't stoop that low to go for someone below his standards." Sandra, a fair lady standing not quite far from where we were, chirps in. The whole place becomes silent instantly as the girls look at each other and then at me, possibly hoping for some kind of reaction against her words, but I give none.

   "Funny how you think you know his standards when it comes to women, so do you think you fit his standards?" one of the girls decides to clap back on my behalf, and Sandra sighs almost as if she is dealing with all these exhaustively.

  "Come now, don't decide to play dumb simply because you want to play the heroine. It is common sense that men like Noah won't go for women like us."

Pfft, I feel like bursting into laughter because it is nothing but a huge joke. Like, hello? His legally married wife, Rachel Sinclair, is standing right in front of you. My body itches so bad that I want to expose this, but doing such is nothing but irrationality, so I have to keep my cool.

  "I may or may not fit his standards. Moreover, I never claimed to fit them in the first place anyway. You just want to twist my words so you can have your way." Sandra adds and the girls just roll their eyes at her and focus on me instead.

   "By the way, that dress looks amazing on you!" she gushes. "Where did you get it?"

I glance down at the black dress Noah gave me, suddenly hyper-aware of how well it fits. "Oh, um, just something I had lying around."

  "Sis, you possibly can't have such an expensive gown lying around. Cause if that is the case, then you're super duper rich, and you are only lying to us about your financial condition."

  "Well, it suits you perfectly," Sophie continues, giving me an approving once-over before the conversation shifts.

  "Alright, girls, I have been able to settle our accommodation." Beatrice claps her hands to get our attention and then distributes the room keys to us. It is two persons per room. I am given a key, and Beatrice tells me that my other person will join me in the room, so I enter the mega hotel to find my room.

Upon getting there, I unlock it, and it looks so ethereal. I love it. But then, I notice something wrong. There is a luggage somewhere and a few clothes on the bed.

   "Has my roommate arrived?" I whisper and move closer, and that is when Noah comes out from the other room with a cup of coffee in his hand. He pauses, and I assume that he is surprised to see me. I am even confused.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask him.

  "I should be asking you that."

   "Well, this is my room..."

   "I think you are mistaken cause this is my room and I got here first. This is the VVIP section. How are you supposed to get this?"

I quickly head downstairs to make a complaint about the arrangement. Just when I think I’m in the clear, the issue of accommodations arises. A few of the hotel rooms seem to have been double-booked, leading to a mess of frustrated murmurs and hurried phone calls. I stand at the edge of the chaos, listening as the organizers try to sort it out. Some of the guests might have to share rooms. The thought alone makes me tense—especially if I’m one of them.

    "I am sorry, ma'am, but there are no other rooms available right now. You can share with someone or just try to come up with an arrangement with the other person. We apologize for the discomfort, please. It is all because of the event."

Welp, I'm getting ripped tonight - RIP to me.

NOAH'S POV

I step into the venue, scanning the room briefly before moving forward. The atmosphere is elegant yet crowded, filled with familiar faces and idle chatter. 

The welcome event has started and I am impressed that my staff have gotten to work already instantly. 

This is what makes me super proud of them.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Marianne standing near the bar, her gaze flickering toward me the moment I enter. I expect her to look away, to ignore me after the argument we had last time. But instead, she straightens her posture and offers a tight, polite smile.

I don’t want to do this.

But causing a scene in public is not an option.

So, when she approaches, I keep my expression relaxed, my tone effortlessly smooth. "Marianne."

   "Noah," she greets, her voice carefully controlled. "I wasn't expecting to see you here so soon."

I nod slightly, keeping my emotions in check. "Work keeps me busy, and that's a lie; my name was written boldly that it is my time to host the event."

She hums, tilting her glass slightly before taking a slow sip.

  "You are not attempting to make a scene here, are you?"

   "I respect your father too much to want to play such a trick...as long as you maintain your lane,"  I respond, and she chuckles.

To anyone watching, it might seem like a casual conversation—like we hadn’t fought bitterly just a week ago. I see a few people observing us, likely waiting for some sort of reaction, and it solidifies my decision to maintain the facade.

I don't trust her. I know better than that. But for now, I play the game.

Rachel’s presence lingers in the back of my mind, though I push the thought away. The last thing I need is for anyone to notice my distraction.

RACHEL'S POV

The event carries on into the evening, and while most of my colleagues are engaged in lively conversations, I find myself wandering away from the crowd, letting the voices fade into the background.

That’s when I heard it.

A hushed conversation, spoken in the kind of tone that people use when they think they’re being discreet.

   "The Calloway Family is as shady as fuck," a man says, his voice filled with disdain. "Politics, business, power—it’s all just a game to them."

   "I’ve heard things too," a woman adds. "There are rumors about how they handle threats. It’s not exactly... legal and they play dirty."

My stomach tightens.

    "And Noah? Do you think he is fully into politics?" 

   "I don't think that he is. Are you even aware that he now bears the name Noah Sinclair instead?" 

    "Yes, I wonder why." 

    "Maybe he has finally discovered how disgusting his family is and doesn't want to associate with them." 

    "That's the only logical explanation, I tell you." 

   "But to me, He’s no different. Cold, calculating. He doesn’t let anyone in unless it benefits him."

A bitter laugh follows. "Makes you wonder what kind of person willingly marries into that family — only a powerful family can get married into that family or else, or otherwise, such a person might break before he or she realizes it."

The words feel like a slap. My fingers curl at my sides, but I force myself to stay composed. I can’t let them see me. I can’t let them know I heard.

I turn on my heel and walk away, my heart pounding as their words repeat in my mind.

Evil political family? 

I know Noah isn’t the easiest person to understand, but...he wouldn't do such atrocities. He doesn't even play politics and I have seen him work himself to default just to make a name for himself. 

I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away.

I shouldn't care.

But yet, I do.