The CEO's Contractual Wife

“Are you planning to stare at that suitcase until it packs itself?” Alexander’s amused voice broke through my packing paralysis.

I glanced up from the empty luggage sitting accusingly on our bed. “I’ve never packed for Europe before. What does one wear in London during this season?”

“Anything you want,” Alexander replied, coming to stand behind me. His hands settled on my shoulders, kneading gently. “You’ll look beautiful regardless.”

“That’s not helpful,” I sighed, leaning into his touch. “I need practical advice. Is it going to rain the entire time? Do I need boots? Jackets? Will we be going somewhere fancy? How fancy?”

“Yes to rain in London, maybe in Paris, probably not in Milan. Pack layers. And as for fancy…” His fingers trailed down my arms. “Pack that red dress I like. The one that makes your breasts look spectacular.”

“Alexander!” I elbowed him playfully. “You’re still not helping.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “We have several business dinners scheduled, so three or four formal outfits.

Comfortable shoes for sightseeing. A coat for London, something lighter for Paris and Milan. The hotels have laundry service, so don’t overpack.”

I turned to face him. “Thank you. That’s actually useful information.”

“I have my moments.” He pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “Now hurry up. The jet leaves in three hours.”

The jet. Not a commercial flight, but Alexander’s private jet.

“You know,” I called as he headed toward the bathroom, “normal people fly coach.”

“Normal is boring,” he replied without turning around. “And I don’t do boring.”

Two hours later, we arrived at a private airfield where the sleek white jet waited on the tarmac. CARTER was emblazoned on the side in elegant silver lettering. A uniformed attendant greeted us and took our luggage while Alexander guided me up the stairs.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Carter, Mrs. Carter,” the flight attendant said with a warm smile.

The interior exuded luxury with cream leather seats, polished wood tables, and plush carpeting, resembling a high–end living room more than an aircraft.

off, taking

with

I corrected, but couldn’t keep the awe from my

comfortable. Would

nine in the morning.”

“And? We’re on vacation.”

I corrected. “And I’ll have coffee, please. Let’s save the

leather seats. The flight attendant returned quickly with

said, raising his coffee mug

clinking my mug

stretched out on what was essentially a full–sized bed. Alexander spent part of the

London Heathrow,” the captain’s voice announced over the intercom. “Local

suburbs giving way to the sprawling city below. Morning sunlight filtered weakly through heavy clouds, giving

like a

to look out my window. “Wait until you see it up

was waiting for us on the tarmac. The driver, a distinguished older gentleman named Geoffrey, greeted us warmly and loaded our luggage while we settled into the

Hotel,

then turned to me. “Ready to experience London

the city center was fascinating. Red double–decker buses, black cabs, ancient buildings alongside

I pointed excitedly. “That’s the London Eye! And is that

“Elizabeth Tower, technically. Big

been reading tourist guides,” I

done some research,” he admitted. “Since I’m apparently such

as we approached a stunning building

Savoy,” Geoffrey announced as uniformed hotel staff appeared almost

an elegant blend of Edwardian and Art Deco design. Marble floors, glittering

desk manager greeted us. “We’re delighted to have you with