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 finally asked,

of doubt. She knows I date casually. She’s twisting that into

had a

“I’ve had arrangements with women in the past. Mutually beneficial relationships with clear expectations and endpoints. I prefer women

me,” I

at me. “You’re

inheritance instead

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8:06 pm

Chapter 71

countered. “The others were transactions.

girlfriends. A pattern. The hidden room. Natasha in Paris. It was too much to process

voice cut through

realizing we’d stopped outside my

mumbled, gathering my purse. “Thanks for

“Of course.”

+23

on the door handle. I’d agreed to 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 contract ended, I’d start my new

Transactional. No emotions involved.

those women’s words sting

thinking too hard,” Alexander said, studying my face in the dim

smile.

friends get to you. That’s exactly what they

fine.” I pushed

cut the engine, and I

What are you doing?”

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

not necessary,” I protested weakly as he extended

‘Humor me.”

car. We walked

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

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