The CEO's Contractual Wife

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Olivia

Alexander got in and started the car. “You’re quiet,” he observed as he pulled into traffic.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how fucking insane this whole situation is,” I said, turning to look at him. “You’re my boss. You’ve offered me a marriage contract worth millions of dollars. And now we just had dinner at your penthouse, where you cooked for me-”

“My chef cooked for us,” he corrected.

“Whatever. The point is, none of this is normal.”

“Normal is overrated,” Alexander said, his eyes locked on mine as he navigated through the quiet streets of LA.

“So is being cryptic,” I shot back. “Yet here you are, mastering the art.”

His lips quirked up at the corner. “You think I’m being cryptic? I’m the most straightforward man you’ll ever meet.”

“Right. Because normal men propose marriage contracts to women they barely know.”

“I never claimed to be normal.” He glanced over before returning to the road. “And I think you’re less normal than you pretend to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, turning onto my street, “that a normal woman wouldn’t be considering my offer. She’d have slapped me and walked out.”

“Who says I’m considering it?”

“The fact that you’re sitting in my car right now.” He pulled up to the curb outside my building and cut the engine. “The fact that you wore that dress.”

I just

one arm draped over the steering wheel. “Or maybe

my body still humming with unwanted attraction. “I’m

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Chapter 17

He shrugged, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “The offer stands. I need your an- swer

felt too

you tomorrow.” I said, reaching

His voice was a caress

stepped out of the car, feeling his eyes on my ass as I

my heels, letting them clatter against the wall. The red dress clung to my sweaty skin as I moved through the darkened

body, pooling at my feet like expensive liquid. I stepped out of it, scooped it

I peeled off my damp panties and padded naked to my dresser, pulling

I flopped onto my bed, grabbing

I opened Emilia’s chat.

Me: You up?

dots appeared, indicating she

Emilia: Yeah, what’s up?

screen, debating whether to tell her about

the keyboard. What would she say? Probably that I was crazy for even considering it. Or

too complicated. I needed to make

major. What are you

in the shower. How are you holding up? Any more crying jags over dickhead

bluntness. Emilia never

good,

my girl! You know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. You

Me: EMILIA!

of hot guys out there who’d kill to

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