The CEO's Contractual Wife

Chapter 11

I shut down my computer, stretching my arms above my head. The contract had been burning a hole in my bag all af ternoon, making it impossible to focus on anything productive.

My phone buzzed just as I was gathering my things. I grabbed it, heart jumping. Was it Ryan? Some pathetic attempt at reconciliation after I’d caught him balls-deep in my friend?

Or maybe Emilia was checking in. She’d been texting hourly updates since the party disaster, making sure I hadn’t drowned myself in wine or jumped off my balcony.

Unknown Number: Be ready at 8 p.m. Wear something nice, something sexy. I’ll pick you up for dinner.

I stared at the screen, mouth dropping open. Alexander fucking Carter. It had to be.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. How the hell did he get my personal number? Then again, the man had some- how known about my father’s medical needs and my brothers’ financial situations. Getting my phone number would be child’s play for someone with his resources.

Me: How did you get this number? And why dinner? I haven’t agreed to anything yet.

His response came immediately.

Unknown Number: Dinner is casual. No strings attached. Consider it an opportunity to get to know the man you might marry before signing anything. Be my girlfriend for the night. I promise to make it special.

I snorted. Special? What did that even mean? A five-star restaurant where the menu didn’t list prices? Some exclusive club where celebrities snorted coke off each other’s asses?

Me: Only for tonight. This doesn’t mean I’m saying yes to your proposal.

I hit send before I could think better of it. Why the fuck was I agreeing to this? The man had basically offered to buy me as a sex slave with a wedding ring, and here I was, agreeing to play girlfriend for the night.

But I knew why. Curiosity. That’s what I told myself, anyway. Not the way my pussy had clenched when he’d talked about making me come. Not the way my nipples had hardened under his gaze. Just simple curiosity about what kind of man would propose such an arrangement.

My bank account was crying for mercy after

phone into my purse and headed for the elevator, hoping to avoid further interrogation from my cowork- ers. No

tonight?” Nova appeared beside me, eyebrows waggling

-0.0%

16:43

“What? No.”

got

“What look?”

She grinned. “Is it the ex? Tell me you’re not going back to that cheating bastard.” “God, no.” I stabbed the elevator button harder than necessary. “I’d rather fuck

out?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, hoping my face

ate.”

already mentally cat- aloging my closet. Something nice. Something

phone. Should I text Emilia? Should I tell her about this

we pulled up to my

thirty

and keys on the counter and headed straight for the shower. The hot water pounded against my skin as I tried to make sense of what

fucking mind, Olivia,” I

I stood before my open closet. The contents looked pathetically inadequate for

a black dress, too funeral. A green jumpsuit, too

I muttered, checking the time.

chickened out of wearing it. The neckline dipped