The CEO's Contractual Wife

Chapter 7

Our director began the presentation, introducing the campaign and the team behind it. When my turn came, I stepped forward on shaky legs.

“Good morning,” I began, my voice steadier than I felt. “I’ll be walking you through our social media strategy for the new product line.”

I clicked on the first slide, focusing on the familiar material rather than the gray eyes I could feel watching me. As I spoke, my confidence grew. This was my territory. I knew these numbers, these platforms, these strategies inside and

out.

Halfway through my section, I dared to look directly at Alexander. His expression was unreadable as he studied me, head slightly tilted. When our eyes met, though, something seemed to change in his face.

I thought I saw recognition flicker in those steel-gray eyes. His lips parted just a bit, and for a fleeting moment, it al- most looked as if he was genuinely surprised, or maybe I just imagined it.

I faltered for just a second before pushing forward, explaining the projected engagement metrics for Instagram. When I glanced back at him, he leaned toward one of his assistants, saying something while still watching me.

I finished my section and handed it off to Vivian, returning to my seat with my heart pounding. Throughout the rest of the presentation, I could feel Alexander’s gaze returning to me, but I kept my eyes firmly on whoever was speaking.

When the presentation concluded, our director asked for questions. Alexander spoke for the first time.

“Impressive work,” he said, his deep voice instantly recognizable. “Particularly the social media strategy. Very inno- vative approach.”

My cheeks burned as several colleagues glanced my way. The director beamed, thanking him for his attendance and feedback.

As the room began to clear, I gathered my notes quickly, planning a strategic retreat. I’d almost made it to the door when I heard his voice behind me.

“Ms. Morgan, isn’t it?”

I turned slowly, finding Alexander standing just a few feet away, hands in his pockets. His expression was neutral, but his eyes held a glint of something I couldn’t identify.

“Yes, sir,” I managed. “Olivia Morgan.”

for a moment, and I wondered if he was comparing the professional, composed version with the one he had met that night. The woman in the little black dress with mascara streaks and a shattered heart versus the

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Chapter 7

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said finally, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “How are

wrong? It had been

something that might have been

around my ankles. His office? The mythical top-floor sanctuary that junior exec- utives whispered about but never visited? Before I could formulate a

clutched to her

I need you to-” She froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she registered Alexander standing there. “Oh! Mr. Carter. I’m sorry, I didn’t

wait.”

quickly I half-expected to see a Nova-shaped

suddenly aware of how dry my

walked toward the clevator, I gave myself a mental shake. Why was I so nervous? I hadn’t done anything wrong. So what if he’d seen me at my lowest moment? I’d caught my boyfriend cheating, been harassed by drunks, and Alexander had simply been a decent human being who offered us a ride. There

about.

closed with a soft chime, leaving us alone

I tried not to fidget as we ascended in

suddenly. “You

you,” I managed, surprised by the compliment. “It’s kind of my

never seen before. Unlike the bustling marketing department fifteen floors below, this space was hushed, with

woman with an impossibly tight bun looked up from behind a desk. “Mr. Carter, your three o’clock had called to

touch on my lower back that sent electricity shooting up

leather couches occupied another. A wet bar gleamed in the corner, and the views… dear God, the views. Los Angeles sprawled beneath us like a living map, the ocean

like something to drink?” he

of where to place myself