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.

materialized instantly, hand extended. “What a pleasure to have you back. And with

Alexander replied, shaking his hand.

oui, of course. The Imperial Suite, as requested. And the roses you ordered have been placed in the

glanced at Alexander, surprised. He’d ordered

head up

escorted us to a private elevator that opened directly into the

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

Suite was absurd. An enormous living room stretched before us, decorated in soft creams and golds. Antique furniture mixed with

Madame,” the butler said, gesturing to ornate double

expression he

bed dominated the space, draped in silk. And on every available surface, red roses.

him, genuinely touched. “You

looking almost bashful. “Thought you

them.” I crossed to the nearest arrangement, breathing in their

throat delicately. “Shall I show you the rest of the suite? The bathroom, the office,

please,” I said, reluctantly

to swim in. The office had a mahogany desk and built-in bookshelves. The dining room seated ten comfortably. There was even a kitchen, which seemed excessive for a

departed with promises that anything we needed would be provided immediately, I flopped onto a

I announced. “People actually

said, loosening his tie. “I have meetings starting at two. That

nine in the morning.

you might say that.” He pulled out his phone, typing quickly. “I’ll

were back in the Mercedes, this time heading toward the city center. The driver navigated with practiced

Chapter 203

as we crossed

“You’ll see.”

55 vouchers

1

a central fountain

in Paris,” he declared, holding the