The CEO's Contractual Wife

Chapter 22

Olivia

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and I stepped inside, grateful to find it empty. As soon as the doors closed, I sagged against the wall, my legs suddenly weak.

“What the fuck did I just do?” I muttered, running my hands through my hair. “How am I going to explain this to Mom and Dad?”

My mother would be thrilled I was getting married-until she realized the timeline. Marriage in what, a few weeks? She’d have questions. Lots of them.

And my dad… he was old-fashioned. He’d want to know Alexander’s intentions, his family background, his five-year plan.

My brothers would be even worse. Nicholas would immediately be suspicious. He could always tell when I was ly- ing. And Ethan would Google the hell out of Alexander, digging up every tabloid story about his playboy past.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I banged my head against the elevator wall.

How was I going to explain this to everyone? My family still thought I’d never dated anyone. They didn’t even know about Ryan – I’d planned to introduce him after we got more serious. Now I’d have to tell them I was marrying my boss?

I could already hear Mom’s voice: “But honey, we didn’t even know you were dating!”

I’d have to lie. Tell them Alexander and I had a secret relationship before, broke up, and now we’re madly in love again. More lies. Always more lies.

“And what happens after?” I whispered to my reflection in the polished doors. “When the contract ends and we di- vorce? Then what?”

Would I ever be able to have normal relationships after being with someone like him?

The elevator dinged at my floor. I straightened up, adjusting my clothes.

“One problem at a time, Olivia,” I muttered. “One fucking problem at a time.”

wear campaign mockups. But my mind kept drifting to Alexan-

felt foreign, yet somehow intriguing. Would I get new business

forcing my

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To share his space, his bed? My nipples hardened at the thought

hissed, crossing my legs to ease the

a week ago. I shouldn’t be fantasizing about anyone, let alone my boss, who was

man who probably knew exact- ly how to

“physical relations,” but Alexander had said the timing was

water droplets trailing down his chest, a towel slung low on his hips. Would he drop it deliberately, letting me see what he was packing? Or would he stalk

cheeks. My pussy clenched at the thought of him sliding inside me, filling me

think like this. This was a

what if I needed sex? What if living with him, sleeping beside him night after night, made me desperate for his touch? Would I have to beg? The thought of

a strong sex drive. Would he expect me to drop to

I scolded myself,

practical. This was about money. About helping my family. Not about

what if the sex was incredible? What if he ruined me

voice cut through

knocking over my

now?” She leaned closer, studying my flushed face. “Wait, are you thinking about sex?

quickly.

convinced. “So you weren’t just sitting there imagining Alexander Carter bending

his desk?”

face flamed. Was I that

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