The CEO's Contractual Wife

Chapter 71

Olivia

Alexander took a sharp turn, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Victoria’s feeding them information to manipulate

you.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Natasha was a woman I dated in Paris three years ago. It didn’t end well.”

“Define ‘didn’t end well.”

“She wanted more than I was willing to give.”

“Marriage?” I asked.

“Love,” he corrected, his voice flat.

The word hung between us, heavy with implication. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past.

“And the hidden room?”

Alexander’s mouth quirked up. “Not nearly as scandalous as they made it sound. It’s a private office where I keep sensitive business documents.”

“So not a sex dungeon filled with whips and chains?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Is that what you were imagining?”

My cheeks burned. “No!”

“Liar,” he said, but his tone was playful. “You’re disappointed it’s just boring paperwork, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” I muttered, fighting a smile.

We fell into comfortable silence as he navigated through downtown LA. The stain on my top had started to dry, turning sticky against my skin.

girlfriends‘?” I

of doubt. She knows I date

a

women in the past. Mutually beneficial relationships with clear expectations and endpoints. I prefer women who understand what they’re getting into. No false expectations.

I said

glanced at

helping you secure your inheritance instead of just

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8:06 pm

Chapter 71

countered. “The others were transactions.

to believe him, but Madison and Stella’s words kept replaying in my head. Contract girlfriends. A pattern. The hidden room. Natasha in Paris. It was too much

cut through

realizing we’d stopped outside my

mumbled, gathering my

“Of course.”

+23

this arrangement. His past relationships, contractual or otherwise, didn’t matter. I would be his wife on paper, get the money for my family, and after the

Transactional. No emotions

did those women’s words

studying my face in the dim light

replied with a forced smile. “Occupational hazard of

let Victoria’s friends get

I pushed open the

cut the engine,

What are you doing?”

out of the

not necessary,” I protested weakly as he extended his hand to help

‘Humor me.”

my skin after the warmth of his car. We

our worlds were. His penthouse with its floor–to- ceiling windows and personal chef

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