The CEO's Contractual Wife

Olivia

I gathered my things, my stomach fluttering with nerves. Alexander had texted the address of a restaurant for tonight, along with instructions to “dress to impress.” I hadn’t agreed to stay at his penthouse yet, preferring the safety of my own apartment for now.

Over the next two weeks, Alexander and I fell into a rhythm. We’d meet for dinner at high–end restaurants, where photographers would conveniently appear, capturing images of us looking intimate but never quite showing my full face. He’d kiss my cheek, hold my hand, and place his arm possessively around my waist–always when cameras might be watching.

Each time, I wore dresses from his collection, each more stunning than the last. Each time, his eyes would darken when he saw me, his gaze lingering on my curves in a way that made my skin tingle.

“You’re a natural at this,” he said one night as we left a trendy rooftop bar, his hand resting on the small of my back.

“At what? Pretending to be your girlfriend?”

“At being desired,” he corrected, his voice low against my ear. “Every man in that room wanted you tonight.”

“But only you get to take me home,” I replied, playing along for the benefit of the paparazzi I’d spotted across the street.

Alexander’s fingers tightened slightly on my hip. “Exactly.”

In the car, he maintained the charade, his thumb tracing circles on my knee as his driver navigated the LA streets. It was becoming harder to remember this was all for the show, especially when he looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole.

“Will you stay tonight?” he asked as the car pulled up to his building.

I hesitated. We’d established a pattern: dinner, drinks, and a lingering goodbye at my apartment door. I hadn’t spent the night at his penthouse since that first day.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said carefully.

“Why not? The contract allows for it.”

“The contract allows for a lot of things,” I reminded him. “That doesn’t mean we have to do them all immediately.”

Alexander studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You’re afraid.”

afraid,” I protested.

“Of what? Me?”

between us. “It’s too easy to blur the

slow smile. “Maybe the lines should be

“Alexander-”

cut me off. “Nothing more. Unless

hung between us, charged and tempting. I swallowed

1/3

tonight,” I said finally.

accepting my decision with unexpected grace. “I’ll

lips lingering near the corner of my mouth. It was part of our routine now, this almost–kiss that left me

Olivia,” he murmured, his breath warm against my

“Goodnight, Alexander.”

exhaling slowly. My body hummed with a frustration I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. I could have called him back. Could have invited him in. The contract certainly allowed for it and even encouraged

what? One night of passion, and then what happens when the year is up? When he decides he’s fulfilled his obligation to his grandfather

door and kicked off my heels, wincing as they clattered against the hardwood floor. My phone buzzed in my purse. A text

Girls‘ night. No excuses. Meet us at

was exactly what I needed to clear my head of thoughts

music hitting me like a physical force. The club

spotted them at a booth

the music, waving frantically.

slid into the booth beside her, gratefully accepting the glass of

said, nodding toward the

yes.” I took a generous sip.

Claire leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “How’s life as

groaned. “Please, not you, too. I’ve had enough of

fine,” Claire raised her hands

I