The CEO's Contractual Wife

I watched him walk back to the elevator before letting myself into my apartment. As I closed the door behind me, I caught myself smiling like an idiot. Tonight had been unexpected in many ways, not least in how much I’d enjoyed Alexander’s

company.

This was dangerous territory. Our arrangement was supposed to be practical and businesslike. But the way he’d looked at me on that private deck, the way he’d held me while we danced… it felt like something more.

I reminded myself sternly that Alexander Carter was a businessman first and foremost. This marriage was a transaction for him, a means to secure his inheritance. Whatever charm or kindness he showed was simply part of making our arrangemen believable.

Still, as I carefully hung up the blue dress and prepared for bed, I couldn’t help wondering what tomorrow’s surprise would be and why I was so looking forward to finding out.

The next evening. I packed an overnight bag as instructed, opting for jeans and a soft cashmere sweater, as Alexander had suggested. At precisely seven, my doorbell rang.

Alexander stood there in dark jeans and a gray henley that hugged his broad shoulders, looking so different from the tuxedo–clad CEO of the previous night that I almost did a double–take.

“Ready?” he asked, taking my bag.

‘As I’ll ever be,” I replied, locking my door. “Will you tell me where we’re going now?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

We took the elevator down to the parking garage, where Alexander led me to a sleek black Range Rover instead of his usual

car.

“Different car tonight?” I asked as he held the passenger door for me.

This one’s better for where we’re headed,” he explained cryptically.

north along the coast. The sun was beginning to set, painting the ocean in shades of gold and pink. Alexander drove with one hand on the wheel, the

your father doing?” he asked

surprised by the question.

your mother?

exhausted but won’t admit it. My brothers and I are taking turns

need

interrupted gently. “But thank

After about an hour, Alexander turned onto a private drive that snaked up a hillside. At the top stood a modern

1/3

Chapter 58

is this place?” I

“Or, more accurately, my escape house. I come here when I

think. Or not think.”

taking

you

trunk and led me to the front door, which

my surprise. “Only a few people

open and airy with floor–to–ceiling windows showcasing the ocean view. The decor was minimalist

moonlight danced across the waves below, creating a

bags down. “Maybe once a month. Sometimes, when I need to think through a big decision or escape

of a plush sofa. Everything about the place felt expensive but not ostentatious, a refined taste that surprised me. “It

the kitchen area, which opened to

stomach answered with a growl

which was surprisingly well–stocked. “The housekeeper comes by