The CEO's Contractual Wife

Olivia

Saturday morning brought a cloudy sky and a text from Alexander: “Car will pick you up at 5 PM. Wear something casual. Bringing you to my place first.”

I stared at the message, my stomach doing that annoying flip it always did when Alexander texted. Tonight was the night I’d meet his family. The Carters. The people who could potentially become my in–laws through this bizarre arrangement.

“Fuck,” I muttered, dropping my phone on the kitchen counter.

I spent the day in a state of controlled panic, cleaning my already tidy apartment and trying not to overthink the evening ahead. By four o’clock, I’d showered, blow–dried my hair into submission, and applied light makeup. The “casual” directive from Alexander left me standing in front of my closet, scowling at my options.

“Casual for normal people or casual for millionaires?” I asked my reflection, holding up a simple black dress against my body.

I finally settled on dark jeans, a silk camisole, and a blazer. They were elegant enough to look put–together but not like I was trying too hard. My buzzer rang precisely at five, and I grabbed my purse, taking one last look in the mirror.

“You can do this,” I told myself firmly. “It’s just dinner with your fake fiancé’s family. No big deal.”

The driver was waiting with the car door open when I stepped outside. The sleek black Bentley looked ridiculously out of place on my street, drawing curious stares from my neighbors.

“Ms. Morgan,” the driver nodded politely. “Mr. Carter is expecting you.”

The ride to Alexander’s penthouse was mercifully quick. I spent it watching the city blur past, rehearsing imaginary conversations with his family in my head. What would they ask? What should I say? How much did they know about me?

When we arrived, the doorman greeted me by name.

“Good evening, Ms. Morgan. Mr. Carter is waiting for you upstairs.”

The elevator whisked me up to the penthouse, its mirrored walls reflecting my anxious expression back at me. I took a deep breath as the doors slid open, revealing Alexander’s stunning apartment.

sprawling city below. The late afternoon sun

back,” he said into the phone, ending the call without waiting for

into his space. “You said casual, so I

eyes traveled over me, slow and deliberate. “Perfect. But we need to make a

of adjustment?” I asked, instantly

close enough that I could smell his cologne. “I’ve

happy with my outfit?” I gestured down

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Chapter 74

traveling over me in a way that made my

massive closet room I’d seen before. The space still overwhelmed me with its boutique- like organization and

to a garment bag hanging prominently on a rack. “This

emerald green dress. The fabric looked impossibly soft, catching the

breathed, reaching out to touch the

it on,” he urged, handing me

what had to be incredibly expensive fabric. The dress was clearly designer, with meticulous construction and details I couldn’t even

a matching set of lingerie. The deep emerald bra and panties were delicate lace, clearly designed to work perfectly with the

as he handed them

dress requires specific undergarments,” he said matter–of–factly. “The lines would

our fingers brushing. A jolt of electricity shot up my

outside,” he said,

surprising

the wall. I quickly shed my clothes, feeling

legs, the lace caressing my skin. The bra cupped my breasts perfectly, lifting them just enough to create enticing