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.”

took a careful sip, his eyes widening slightly. “That’s

sagely, stealing his cherry. His eyes tracked my

paper–lined baskets with golden fries spilling over the

I need utensils

“No! Just pick it up and embrace

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

said, suddenly aware of the intimacy of the

was lower, his eyes holding

focusing on my burger. “So,

he admitted, taking another bite. “You

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

of many,” he murmured, making me

a few minutes, the late–night emptiness of the diner creating a bubble around us. It felt strangely

I ask you something?” I said

“Of course.”

would have happened if we hadn’t met that

wiping his hands on a napkin. “Honestly? I’ve thought about it more than

“And?”

crossed eventually. Maybe not in the same way, but

“You really believe that?”

“Some

over midnight burgers,” I teased, but his words

think you’d be if we hadn’t

Carter Enterprises, just climbing the ladder

Alexander said with surprising conviction. “Your

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

genuine talent usually

sipped my shake. “What

too much.” His mouth curved into a wry smile. “Probably sitting through painful dates my

I mockingly pouted. “Forced to date beautiful,

people want something from me. It

what’s my angle?”

what makes you different,

fries.” I