The CEO's Contractual Wife

Olivia

The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line.

We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park.

"This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fucking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing."

I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel.

"What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver."

"It was no trouble," he replied politely.

Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning.

She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit.

As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter."

Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend."

"The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her."

His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends."

We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable.

"Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood.

He nodded, making the turn smoothly.

"Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary.

He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm.

"Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight."

Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had."

The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed.

"I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite.

"Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car.

"Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride."

He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building.

The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels.

The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed.

I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me.

In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear.

I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it.

Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around.

I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been.

My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia.

"You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes."

I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep."

Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?"

"I will be," I replied and realized I meant it.

I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses.

"Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain."

I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror.

Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster.

"He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fucking Carter."

The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable.

And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slutty dress.

"Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional."

I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford.

I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued?

"As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby."

But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say?