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.

by ‘contract girlfriends‘?” I

plant seeds of doubt. She knows I

a

like ours.” His eyes remained fixed on the road. “I’ve had arrangements with 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. No

me,” I said

glanced at

I’m helping you secure your inheritance instead of just

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8:06 pm

Chapter 71

I respect you,” he countered. “The others

Contract girlfriends.

cut through

stopped outside

I mumbled, gathering my purse.

“Of course.”

+23

there for a moment, my hand on the door handle. I’d agreed to this arrangement. His past relationships, contractual or otherwise, didn’t matter. I would be his

Transactional. No emotions involved.

did those women’s

studying my face in the dim

with a forced smile. “Occupational hazard of being in marketing.

let Victoria’s friends get to you. That’s exactly

pushed

engine, and I

What are you doing?”

your door.” He was already out of the car, circling around to my

not necessary,” I protested weakly as he extended his

‘Humor me.”

night air felt cool against my skin after the warmth of his car. We walked in silence

acutely aware of how different our worlds were. His penthouse with its floor–to- ceiling windows and personal chef versus

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