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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