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.

Carter,” the manager materialized instantly, hand extended. “What a pleasure to have

replied, shaking

Suite, as requested. And the roses you

at Alexander, surprised. He’d

head

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

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

Suite was absurd. An enormous living room stretched before us, decorated in soft creams and golds. Antique furniture mixed with modern comfort. Floor-to-ceiling windows

the butler said, gesturing to ornate

followed him, Alexander trailing behind with that amused expression he wore

bed dominated the space, draped in

him,

suddenly looking almost bashful. “Thought

the nearest arrangement, breathing in

I show you the rest of the

said,

featured a marble tub big enough 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

anything we needed would be provided

is insane, I announced. “People actually live like

Paris,” Alexander said, loosening his tie. “I have meetings starting

the morning.

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

we were back in the Mercedes, this time heading toward the city center. The driver navigated with practiced ease through narrow streets

Chapter 203

asked as we crossed a bridge

“You’ll see.”

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in a charming square I didn’t recognize. Small shops and cafés surrounded a central fountain where

croissants in Paris,” he declared, holding the