The CEO's Contractual Wife

Chapter 170

Chapter 170

Victoria

The Lion’s Den was buzzing with its usual night crowd: young professionals winding down after work, clutching overpriced cocktails and laughing too loudly at jokes that weren’t funny. I nursed my gin and tonic. The ice had long melted, making the drink almost tasteless–just like my mood.

“You’re looking particularly murderous tonight,” Penelope said, sliding into the booth across from me. Her hair was perfect as always, not a strand out of place despite the humid evening. “Bad day at the office?”

“Bad week,” I corrected, watching as she signaled the waiter. “Bad month, Bad year, actually.”

“Vodka martini, extra dirty,” she ordered before turning back to me. “Let me guess, still stewing over your cousin and his little marketing wife?”

I shot her a withering look. “Your counteroffer idea was a complete waste, just as I suspected.”

“It was worth trying,” Penelope replied with a casual shrug, but I caught the flash of irritation in her eyes. She hated failing as much as I did.

The waiter returned with her martini, three olives pierced by a toothpick. Penelope plucked one off and popped it into her mouth before continuing.

“We’ve got so many options still on the table,” she said, leaning forward. “The Thompson account was just one approach. I have connections at several publications who’d love to run more stories about the gold–digging marketing exec who seduced her way to the top.”

“That angle might actually be working,” I admitted, swirling what remained of my drink. “I had lunch with my grandfather yesterday, and he mentioned seeing the article. He played it off, but I could tell it planted a seed of doubt.”

“Really?” Penelope brightened, taking a long sip of her martini. “Do tell.”

Olivia seemed at the last family dinner.” I smiled, remembering the moment.

think this marriage is fake anyway?” Penelope asked, her perfectly shaped eyebrows drawing together. “I mean, I want it to be fake because I want Alexander back, but

sharp in the noisy bar. “You really think my cousin, who’s never committed to a woman for longer than it takes milk to expire, suddenly

put it

leaning closer. “I just need to create enough friction to break them apart. Once the board sees Alexander can’t maintain a stable marriage, they’ll question his commitment to everything

controlling power,” Penelope finished, her lips curving

into my designer handbag and pulled out my

it to my photo gallery. The first image showed Olivia sitting at a bar, laughing at something James Westbrook was saying.

Penelope asked, zooming

O’Malley’s. My source says they talked for nearly

next photo. Olivia and James were at a café table, coffee mugs between them. She was leaning forward slightly,

“James has always had a thing for poaching

don’t see it, Victoria. They’re just talking. There’s no sexual tension, no furtive touching.” She handed the phone back

don’t think she looks a little too interested in

having a business conversation,” Penelope replied flatly. “Your

with an irritated snap. “Fine. Maybe you’re right about the photos. But there’s something off about their marriage, and I’m going to

her martini and signaling for another. “Something that

slow smile spreading

her eyes

two–pronged approach,” I began, lowering

she thanked him, watching his eyes

he was out of earshot, “we need to create tension

“Go on.”

women throwing themselves at

a predatory smile forming. “I’m more

strategic about this. The goal isn’t just to seduce him; it’s to create doubt in Olivia’s mind

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