The CEO's Contractual Wife

Chapter 44

Olivia

I groaned and tossed my phone onto the couch cushion beside me. Why was he so damn stubborn? First, showing up at the hospital like some knight in an Armani suit, and now insisting on coming to my apartment in the middle of the night. What part of our contract covered midnight food delivery?

The thought of Alexander seeing my tiny apartment made me glance around with fresh eyes. It wasn’t messy, exactly, but it wasn’t CEO–of–a–multi–billion–dollar company ready either. The contrast between his sleek penthouse and my cozy apartment would be laughable.

With a resigned sigh, I pushed myself off the couch. If he was coming, I at least needed a shower. I’d spent all day in a hospital waiting room, and I probably smelled like anxiety and bad coffee..

The hot water felt heavenly against my tired muscles. I washed my hair quickly, then stood under the spray for an extra minute, letting the water cascade down my back. The thought of Alexander in my space sent a flutter through my stomach that I refused to acknowledge.

After drying off, I faced the closet dilemma. What exactly does one wear for a midnight visit from one’s fake fiancé? I settled on a pair of soft gray leggings and an oversized NYU sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder. Casual but not completely sloppy.

I applied a hint of tinted moisturizer and mascara to seem lively without appearing overly made–up. A quick brush through my damp hair, and I deemed myself presentable.

With fifteen minutes to spare, I did a quick sweep of the apartment. I gathered a bra that had been draped over a chair, stuffed a pile of mail into a drawer, and straightened the throw pillows on my couch. I decided to light a vanilla–scented candle; its soft glow and comforting aroma helped ease the tension in the room.

My laundry basket sat in the corner of my bedroom, a lacy red thong peeking over the edge. I quickly tucked it deeper into the pile, then paused, wondering why I cared if Alexander saw my underwear. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already commented on my “pretty pussy” during our contract negotiation—the memory still made my cheeks burn.

“Get it together, Olivia,” I muttered to myself, fluffing the pillows on my bed out of habit, then feeling ridiculous for doing so. It wasn’t like he was going to be in my bedroom.

Unless…

“Nope,” I said aloud, cutting off that dangerous train of thought. “Not happening.”

I checked my phone: 12:32 AM. Alexander should be arriving any minute. I unlocked my door as instructed, then settled back on the couch with a book I had no intention of reading, just to look casual when he arrived.

and confident. Three sharp raps that

a deep breath and opened

and a crisp button–up with rolled

“Dinner,” he announced, stepping past me into the

1/3

dryly, closing the door behind

furniture collected over the years, the

small,” I

countered, surprising

what’s ‘very me,” I pointed out,

set the food on my coffee table and turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “I know

wasn’t ready to explore. I gestured

and tiramisu.” He started unpacking

“Giorgio’s doesn’t

“They do for me.”

course, they did. Alexander Carter probably never heard

never been there,” admitted, eyeing the elegant packaging. “I hear it’s impossible

if we were actually dating as if this whole thing wasn’t an elaborate business

to the kitchen. “Cabinet

CEO was in my kitchen, serving me midnight pasta after spending hours at the hospital with my family. None of this

he commented, returning with two plates and forks. “Less

a shower can do,” I said, accepting the plate he handed me. “You