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

sticky tabletops,” I said sagely, stealing his cherry. His

paper–lined baskets with golden fries spilling over the

need utensils for

laughed. “No! Just pick it up and

lead, taking a bite that left a smear of ketchup at the corner of his mouth. I reached across without thinking, wiping it away with my

suddenly aware of the intimacy of

lower, his eyes holding mine for a beat too

my burger.

admitted, taking another bite.

into

he murmured, making me

a few minutes, the late–night emptiness of the diner creating a bubble around us. It felt strangely normal, sitting here with Alexander Carter eating

you something?” I

“Of course.”

would have happened if we hadn’t

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

“And?”

have crossed eventually. Maybe not in the

“You really believe that?”

“Some

I teased, but his

you’d be if we hadn’t

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

would have risen quickly regardless,” Alexander said with surprising conviction.

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

genuine talent usually

my shake. “What about you?

Working too much.” His mouth curved into a wry

I mockingly pouted. “Forced to date

Interesting? Rarely.” He leaned forward. “Most people want something from me. It gets tedious figuring

what’s my angle?” I

“That’s what makes you different, Olivia. I’m still

“Maybe I just wanted your fries.” I reached across and stole one