The CEO's Contractual Wife

The bell dinged as we entered. Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed over checkerboard floors and red vinyl. booths. A tired–looking waitress named Dottie, according to her name tag, barely looked up from wiping down the counter.

“Sit anywhere,” she called out.

I led Alexander to a booth by the window, sliding onto the vinyl seat. He sat across from me, looking so out of place in his perfect suit that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“What?” he asked, noticing my expression.

“Nothing. You just look like you’re afraid to touch anything.”

“I’m being cautious,” he countered, picking up a laminated menu with two fingers.

Dottie shuffled over, order pad in hand. “What can I get ya?”

“Double cheeseburger with bacon, extra pickles, fries, and a chocolate shake,” I said without hesitation.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have the same.”

When Dottie left, he leaned forward. “How did you decide so quickly?”

“There’s only one rule at a place like this: order the thing that’ll clog your arteries fastest.” I spread my arms. “Welcome to how the other half lives, Mr. Carter.”

“I’m not that sheltered,” he protested.

“Oh, really? When’s the last time you ate something that came in a paper wrapper?”

“Tuesday. I had a protein bar between meetings.”

I rolled my eyes. “That doesn’t count. I’m talking real junk food. The kind that makes your cardiologist cry.”

“Then it’s been a while,” he admitted. “My schedule doesn’t allow for many culinary adventures.”

“That’s sad. Everyone needs a good greasy burger once in a while.”

Our shakes arrived in tall glasses topped with whipped cream and cherries. I took a long sip, closing my eyes in appreciation.

“Good?” Alexander asked, watching me.

“Heaven. Try yours.”

sip, his eyes widening slightly. “That’s surprisingly

a place by its sticky tabletops,” I said sagely, stealing his cherry. His

fries spilling over

need utensils

“No! Just pick it up

left a smear of ketchup at the corner of his mouth. I reached

suddenly aware of the intimacy of

be.” His voice was lower, his eyes holding mine

my throat, focusing on my

admitted, taking another

popped a fry into my mouth. “It’s one of my best

he murmured,

in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the late–night emptiness of the diner creating a bubble around us. It

I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

wondered what would have happened if we hadn’t met that

this, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Honestly? I’ve thought

“And?”

think our paths would have crossed eventually. Maybe

“You really believe that?”

nodded. “Some connections seem

teased, but

be if we

thinking. “Probably still at Carter Enterprises, just climbing the

regardless,” Alexander said with surprising conviction.

nice of you to say, but let’s be realistic. The corporate world isn’t exactly a

But genuine talent usually finds a

sipped my shake. “What about you?

I was. Working too much.” His mouth curved into a wry smile. “Probably

Alexander,” I mockingly pouted. “Forced

want something from me. It gets tedious

what’s my angle?” I

what makes you different,

your fries.” I reached across