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 wanted a free

steering wheel. “Or maybe you’re curious about what it would be like to be Mrs.

my body still humming with unwanted attraction. “I’m only Miss Morgan. Not Mrs.

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Chapter 17

playing at the corners

suddenly felt too small,

tomorrow.” I said, reaching

voice was a caress in the

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

heels, letting them clatter against the wall. The red dress clung to my sweaty skin

to unzip the dress. It slid down my body, pooling at my feet like expensive liquid. I stepped out of it, scooped it up, and tossed

were finally free. I peeled off my damp panties and padded naked to my dresser, pulling out an oversized t-shirt

I flopped onto

I opened Emilia’s chat.

Me: You up?

three dots appeared, indicating

Emilia: Yeah, what’s up?

the screen, debating whether to tell her about Alexander’s

say? Probably that I was crazy for even considering it. Or maybe she’d tell me

couldn’t tell her. Not yet. This was too bizarre, too complicated. I needed

What are you

At Jake’s place. He’s in the shower. How are you holding up? Any more crying jags

bluntness. Emilia never

good, actually.

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

Me: EMILIA!

guys out there who’d kill

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