The CEO's Contractual Wife

Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Olivia

I took another sip of wine, letting the rich flavor coat my tongue. “This food is incredible. I can’t believe Giorgio’s made this

for takeout.”

“I told you, they make exceptions for me.” Alexander reached for his wine glass, his fingers brushing mine in the process. “I find most establishments are willing to bend their rules for the right incentive.”

“Is that how you approach everything in life? Throwing money at problems until they go away?”

“Not everything. Some problems require a more… hands–on approach.”

The way he said “hands–on” made my skin tingle. I cleared my throat and reached for the tiramisu container, needing a distraction.

“Dessert?” I offered, prying open the lid.

“Always.” His eyes held mine, making it clear we weren’t just talking about food.

I broke eye contact first, focusing on dividing the tiramisu onto two plates. My hands weren’t quite steady, and I silently cursed myself for reacting so strongly to him.

“This looks amazing,” Lsaid, passing him a plate and deliberately avoiding his fingers this time.

“Giorgio’s pastry chef trained in Florence,” Alexander replied, accepting the dessert. “He refuses to share his tiramisu recipe, even with me.”

“Even with the great Alexander Carter?” I teased, taking a bite and closing my eyes at the perfect balance of coffee, mascarpone, and cocoa. “God, that’s good.”

When I opened my eyes, Alexander was watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle with awareness.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self–conscious.

“You make the most fascinating expressions when you eat.” His voice had dropped lower. “It’s… distracting.”

just enjoying my food like a normal

way your lips part when you take a bite.” He

don’t make

leaned closer. “I wonder if you make similar

my

corrected, taking a

between us had shifted,

name.

asked, desperate to

1/3

taste of mine?” Before I could answer, he held out

leaned forward and accepted the bite anyway. Our eyes locked as my

his voice rougher than

unable to form words for

better this way,” he

our dessert, the silence punctuated only by the clink of forks against plates

acutely aware of every movement Alexander made, the way his throat worked when he swallowed, how his fingers curled around

plate down, his hand came to rest on my knee, a casual touch

said, setting my own plate aside.

he replied, his thumb making small circles

him but

a contract

agreeing to marry you.

my thigh. “In public, you’re mine. In private…” He paused, his eyes dropping to my lips. “Well, that’s

against my ribs. “I

patterns on my thigh, each touch sending sparks through

then?”

shot back,

here,” he said suddenly,

at him. “Excuse

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