The CEO's Contractual Wife

Chapter 181

After we finished our meal, Alexander insisted on leaving a tip that probably exceeded Dottie’s weekly salary. Back in his car, I felt pleasantly full and oddly content.

“Admit it,” I said as we pulled back onto the road. “That was better than any five–star restaurant dessert.”

“It had its charms.” His hand found mine on the console between us. “Especially the company.”

“Smooth talker.”

“Just honest.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I like seeing different sides of you, Olivia.”

“Even when I’m stealing your fries?”

“Especially then.”

We drove through the quiet streets of Los Angeles, the city transformed in the small hours of the morning. There was something magical about being awake while the world slept, like we were sharing a secret.

“Can I ask you something personal?” I ventured as we turned onto the coast road.

“Of course.”

“Before everything… us… what did you really want in life?”

Alexander was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Success, I suppose. To prove myself worthy of the Carter name.”

“And now?”

He glanced at me, his expression softening. “Now I’m learning there might be more to life than quarterly reports and board meetings.”

“Like midnight burgers?”

burgers with

declaration of

dark and silent. Alexander turned off the engine, but

said softly. “All of it. The

to face me, his expression serious in the dim light. “I haven’t had that much fun in… I

do it more

like that.” His hand reached up to brush a strand of hair

with tension. I leaned

he whispered, his nickname for me sending a shiver down my

replied, just as

overlook, this wasn’t fueled by urgent desire but something quieter, more profound. His hand cradled my face like I was

against my lips, his voice husky

like shadows, his hand firmly clasping mine, guiding me. The only sound was our breathing and the soft pad of

Alexander flicked on a single lamp, bathing the room in soft golden light. He turned to me, his eyes dark with desire, and I felt my breath

he

him, my heart hammering against my ribs. His fingers traced the curve of my cheek, sliding down to my neck,

you know how fucking beautiful

until I could feel every hard line of his body. The thin

his fingers

slowness, his eyes never leaving mine. When the last button gave way, he pushed the fabric

breathed, running his fingers along the edge of the

fingers trailed. He slid the blouse from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a whisper of silk. His hands moved to my pants next, unbuttoning them with the

bit overdressed,” I managed to

me help

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