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.

trailed off,

with

I corrected, but couldn’t keep the awe from my voice. “Wonderfully, extravagantly

comfortable. Would you like

nine in the morning.” I pointed

“And? We’re on vacation.”

elements,” I corrected. “And I’ll have

ordered coffee for both of us while I settled into one of the buttery–soft leather seats. The

said, raising his coffee

Europe,” I echoed, clinking my mug against

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

descent into London Heathrow,” the captain’s voice announced over the intercom. “Local time is 7:42 AM. Weather is cloudy with light rain, temperature

the patchwork of green fields and suburbs giving way to the sprawling city below. Morning sunlight filtered

a

my window. “Wait until you

distinguished older gentleman named Geoffrey, greeted us warmly and loaded our luggage while we settled into the plush back

Hotel,

turned to me. “Ready to

cabs, ancient buildings alongside modern skyscrapers, and

London

enthusiasm with amusement. “Elizabeth Tower, technically.

been reading tourist guides,”

research,” he admitted. “Since

as we approached a

Geoffrey announced as uniformed hotel staff appeared

design. Marble floors, glittering chandeliers, and fresh flower arrangements created

welcome to The Savoy,” the front desk manager greeted us. “We’re delighted to have you with