The CEO's Contractual Wife

Chapter 203

Olivia

The jet descended through wispy clouds as Paris materialized below us, a sprawling tapestry of Haussmann architecture and winding streets. Morning light glinted off the Seine, and I pressed my face closer to the window, catching my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower rising above the cityscape.

“There it is.” I breathed.

Alexander looked up from his laptop, a smile playing at his lips. “First time seeing it?”

“In person? Yes.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away. “Pictures don’t do it justice.”

“Wait until you see it at night. The whole thing lights up.”

The jet touched down smoothly at Le Bourget, Paris’s private aviation hub. Within minutes, we were through customs and settling into the back of a Mercedes waiting on the tarmac. No lines, no crowds, just seamless efficiency that still felt surreal.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Carter, Madame Carter,” the driver greeted us in accented English. “Welcome to Paris. We go to Le Bristol now, yes?”

“Oui, merci,” Alexander replied, his French flawless.

Of course, he spoke French.

The drive into the city center was everything I’d imagined. Elegant buildings with wrought iron balconies lined wide boulevards. Cafés spilled onto sidewalks where Parisians sipped espresso and smoked cigarettes. The Arc de Triomphe loomed ahead, traffic circling it in controlled chaos.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, watching Paris unfold outside my window.

Alexander’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. “It is.”

Le Bristol Hotel sat on the prestigious Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, its pale stone facade exuding understated elegance. A doorman in a crisp uniform opened my car door before we’d fully stopped.

“Bienvenue, Madame Carter,” he said with a slight bow.

The lobby was a masterclass in French luxury. Marble floors gleamed under crystal chandeliers. Fresh flowers the size of small trees occupied massive urns. Oil paintings in gilded frames lined silk-papered walls.

“What a pleasure to have you

Laurent,” Alexander replied, shaking his

of course. The Imperial Suite, as requested. And the

Alexander, surprised. He’d

We’ll head up

escorted us to a private elevator that opened directly into the suite. I stepped into the

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

golds. Antique furniture mixed with modern comfort. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a private terrace.

through here, Madame,” the butler said, gesturing to

Alexander trailing behind with that amused expression he wore when watching

was somehow even more spectacular. A canopy bed dominated the space, draped in silk. And on every available

I turned to him, genuinely

suddenly looking almost bashful. “Thought you

nearest arrangement, breathing in

“Shall I show you the rest of the suite? The bathroom, the office, the dining

please,” I said, reluctantly leaving

a mahogany desk and built-in bookshelves. The dining room seated ten comfortably. There

butler departed with promises that anything we needed would be provided immediately,

insane, I announced. “People

Paris,” Alexander said, loosening his tie. “I have meetings starting at two. That gives us

after nine in the morning. “Explore. Definitely explore. I’m too wired to

He pulled out his phone, typing quickly. “I’ll have the concierge

city center. The driver navigated with practiced ease through narrow streets lined with

Chapter 203

are we going?” I asked as we crossed a bridge over

“You’ll see.”

55 vouchers

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stopped in a charming square I didn’t recognize. Small shops and cafés surrounded a central fountain where pigeons congregated. Alexander led me

he declared,