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.”

not afraid,” I protested. “I’m

“Of what? Me?”

“It’s too easy to blur

smile. “Maybe the lines

“Alexander-”

Olivia,” he cut me off. “Nothing

us, charged and tempting.

1/3

tonight,” I said finally. “I need

decision with unexpected grace. “I’ll take you

his lips lingering near the corner of my mouth. It

Olivia,” he murmured, his breath warm against

“Goodnight, Alexander.”

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

then what happens when the year is up? When he decides he’s

pushed off the door and kicked off my heels, wincing as they clattered against the

No excuses. Meet us

what I needed to clear my head of thoughts of Alexander Carter

club was packed, bodies pressed together on the dance floor, the bar three deep with people vying

a

is!” Emilia shouted over the music, waving frantically. “The woman of

accepting the glass of wine Claire pushed toward me.

nodding toward the

yes.” I took a generous

sparkling with mischief.

I’ve had enough

fine,” Claire raised her hands in

you,” I said, relaxing