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.

I finally

doubt. She knows I

had a contractual

remained fixed on the road. “I’ve had arrangements with women in the past. Mutually beneficial relationships with

me,” I

at

your inheritance

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8:06 pm

Chapter 71

respect you,” he countered. “The others were

wanted to believe him, but Madison and Stella’s words kept replaying in my head. Contract girlfriends. A pattern. The hidden

Alexander’s voice cut through

realizing we’d stopped outside

mumbled, gathering my purse.

“Of course.”

+23

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

Transactional. No emotions

why did those women’s words

too hard,” Alexander said, studying my face in

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

back. “Don’t let Victoria’s friends get to you. That’s exactly what

fine.” I pushed open the

cut the engine,

What are you doing?”

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

weakly as he extended his hand

‘Humor me.”

of his car. We walked in silence to the building entrance, our footsteps

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

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