The CEO's Contractual Wife (Olivia and Ryan) novel Chapter 80

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Chapter 80

Olivia

“Your grandmother is surprisingly nice,” I said, perched on the edge of his couch.

“Margaret’s always had good instincts about people.” Alexander loosened his tie, the simple action drawing my attention to his strong hands. “She liked you.”

“Victoria definitely didn’t.”

“Victoria doesn’t like anyone who threatens her plans. He sat beside me, close enough that our knees almost touched. “Don’t take it personally.”

I took another sip of whiskey, letting the alcohol calm my nerves. “So what’s next?”

Alexander’s eyebrow arched. “Sleep, unless you had something else in mind?”

Heat rushed to my face. “That’s not what I meant. I meant what’s next before the marriage? We’ve met your family, and then what?”

“We need to meet your family,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I was thinking we could have the wedding in a few weeks. It would be a small ceremony, just close family and friends”

“Okay,” I replied, the reality of our situation hitting me anew. In a few weeks, I would be Mrs. Carter, at least on paper.

Alexander set his empty glass on the coffee table and turned to face me fully. “You seem tense.”

“Meeting your family was intense.” I finished my drink and placed it next to his. “Your grandfather is something else.”

“He liked you,” Alexander said, surprising me. He rarely compliments anyone.”

“He called me a ‘fine young woman. That’s a compliment

“From Harold Carter? Absolutely.” His lips curved into a genuine smile. “He’s not exactly effusive with praise.”

I leaned back against the couch cushions, suddenly exhausted. The emotional toll of the evening, pretending to be in love with Alexander, fending off Victoria’s barbs, and charming his grandparents, had drained me completely.

“You did well tonight,” Alexander said softly. “Better than I expected‘

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered.

“I mean it.” His hand found mine, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “You handled Victoria perfectly. Most people either

cower or overreact.”

“I’ve dealt with mean girls before.” I tried to ignore how good his touch felt. “Your cousin is just a more expensive version.”

“That’s exactly what she is.”

His fingers continued their maddening circles on my palm, each sweep sending tingles up my arm. I should pull away. This wasn’t part of our agreement, these casual touches, this intimacy. But I couldn’t bring myself to break the contact.

“We should sleep,” he said finally, his voice deeper than before. “It’s late.”

I nodded, suddenly nervous about sharing his bed again.

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Chapter 80

“I should change first,” I said, standing up quickly.

Alexander nodded. “The closet is all yours.”

I padded down the hallway to the massive closet room, flipping on the light. The space still overwhelmed me with its boutique–like organization of clothes, shoes, and accessories.

I opened a drawer containing silk pajama sets in various colors and styles. My fingers traced over the delicate fabric, finally selecting a simple navy blue set with shorts and a button–up top.

After retrieving the pajamas, I hesitated at the lingerie drawer. The emerald set I’d worn earlier was beautiful but definitely not made for sleeping. I decided to skip underwear entirely, which was one less thing to worry about in the morning.

In the bathroom, I quickly washed my face and brushed my teeth. The face wash smelled expensive and probably contained ingredients I couldn’t pronounce.

I slipped out of the dress and carefully hung it up, then removed the lingerie, folding it neatly on the counter. Naked, I caught my reflection in the mirror and paused. My nipples had hardened in the cool air, my breasts fuller than I remembered. Was Alexander actually attracted to me, or was this all part of the business arrangement?

“Stop overthinking,” I muttered, pulling on the pajama shorts and buttoning up the top. The silk felt amazing against my skin, cool and smooth.

When I returned to the bedroom, Alexander was already in bed, shirtless with the covers pulled to his waist. The sight of his bare chest, all defined muscle and smooth skin, made my mouth go dry.

“You look nice,” he said, his eyes trailing over me.

“Thanks.” I hovered awkwardly at the edge of the bed.

I pulled back the covers and slid in. The sheets felt like butter against my skin, likely some extravagant thread count.

“These sheets are amazing.” I said, trying to break the tension.

“Egyptian cotton, 1500 thread count,” he replied, confirming my suspicion.

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