The CEO's Contractual Wife (Olivia and Ryan) novel Chapter 65

The cab lurched through LA traffic, and I leaned my forehead against the cool window, watching the buildings blur together. Work had been brutal: back–to–back meetings, a presentation that ran long, and the knowing glances every time Alexander walked past the marketing department.

My phone buzzed with a text from Alexander.

Alexander: Dinner tomorrow night. Wear the blue dress.

Not a question, of course. A statement. I sighed and typed back.

Me: I’ll check my schedule.

His response came immediately.

Alexander: No need. I already cleared it with your supervisor.

I rolled my eyes. Of course, he had. The man was nothing if not thorough.

When the cab pulled up to my apartment building. I overtipped the driver and trudged inside, my heels clicking against the lobby floor. The elevator ride felt longer than usual, my body sagging against the wall as exhaustion set in.

Inside my apartment, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto my couch, pulling out my phone. I needed to check on Dad.

Mom answered on the third ring. “Olivia? Everything okay?”

“Just checking in. How’s Dad doing?”

“He’s sleeping now. The medication makes him drowsy. Her voice softened. “The doctor says he’s recovering well but needs

rest.”

I closed my eyes, relief washing over me. “That’s good. Has he been taking his pills on schedule?”

“Yes, dear. I’ve set alarms on my phone.” Mom chuckled. “I’m not completely hopeless with technology, you know.”

“I know, I just worry.”

“You always do. Too much, sometimes.” She paused. “How are things with you? Is work going well? And what about that handsome boss of yours?”

I groaned. “Mom, please.”

“What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question. He seems like a catch.”

“He’s… complicated.”

“Men usually are.” She laughed. “But the good ones are worth figuring out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I rubbed my temples. “I’ll come visit tomorrow after work.”

“Don’t worry about us. Focus on your job. And Alexander.”

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“Sure, Mom.”

“I mean it, Olivia. Your father and I are fine. You’ve done more than enough already.”

The guilt twisted in my stomach. If only she knew the truth about where Dad’s surgery money had come from.

“I’ll still stop by,” I insisted.

“If you must. But don’t stay long. I suspect you have better things to do than sit with your old parents.”

“Mom, stop it. You’re not old, and you two are my parents. Of course, I want to visit.” I tucked my feet under me on the couch, feeling the weight of exhaustion in my bones.

“Stubborn, just like your father.” Mom’s voice softened. “You know who else is stubborn? Women who marry rich, handsome

CEOS.

“Mom…”

“I’m just saying, it runs in the family. Anyway, if you’re coming tomorrow, bring something sweet from that bakery in Wilshire. The one with those chocolate croissants your father pretends not to love.”

“Sweet & Flour?”

“That’s the one! Your father’s been good with his diet; he deserves a little treat.”

“Sure, I’ll stop by after work.”

“Perfect. Now get some rest, sweetheart. You sound exhausted.”

“I am. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too.”

I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the cushion beside me. The silence of my apartment settled around me, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional siren. Los Angeles never truly slept, but right now, all I wanted to do was close my eyes and drift off.

But the day’s grime clung to my skin, and my stomach rumbled in protest. I needed a shower and food before I could surrender to sleep.

I pushed myself off the couch with a groan. My muscles ached from sitting hunched over my desk all day, reviewing marketing proposals and pretending not to notice Alexander’s eyes on me during the department meeting.

The bathroom light flickered twice before steadying. I’d need to call maintenance about that soon. I turned the shower to scalding and stepped under the spray, letting the water pummel my tired shoulders.

“Stupid contract,” I muttered, working shampoo into my hair. “Stupid Alexander with his stupid perfect face and his stupid money.”

My treacherous mind wandered to the way he’d looked at me across the conference table earlier, his eyes dark and intent while the marketing director droned on about quarterly projections. Like he could see right through my blouse.

I rinsed the conditioner from my hair and stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself. The bathroom mirror had fogged over, leaving just a blurry outline of my exhausted form. I wiped a clear spot with my palm and stared at my reflection, water droplets still clinging to my skin.

My phone rang from the bedroom, the cheerful ringtone cutting through the post–shower silence. I padded across the

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apartment, leaving damp footprints on the hardwood, and grabbed it from the nightstand.

“Hello?”

“Liv!” Emilia’s voice exploded through the speaker, accompanied by the unmistakable background noise of a crowded bar. “Where are you? We’ve been waiting!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear, wincing. “Waiting for what?”

“For you! Don’t tell me you forgot. We’re at O’Malley’s. Claire and Ariana are already here.”

“Em, I just got home from work. I’m literally dripping wet in a towel.”

“Perfect! Skip the clothes and come as you are.” She cackled at her own joke.

“Very funny. I didn’t know we had plans tonight.”

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