The CEO's Contractual Wife (Olivia and Ryan) novel Chapter 82

Chapter 82

Olivia

I padded to the bathroom, avoiding my reflection as I splashed cold water on my face. After using the toilet and brushing my teeth, I finally forced myself to look in the mirror.

“It was just a dream.” I told my reflection firmly. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

My reflection didn’t look convinced.

I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, trying to make myself somewhat presentable before facing Alexander. The silk pajamas had twisted around my body during the night, the top unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of cleavage. I quickly fixed it, buttoning it all the way up to my neck.

The smell of coffee lured me out of the bedroom. I followed it to the kitchen, where I found Alexander standing at the counter, already dressed in jeans and a casual button–up shirt, his hair still damp from a shower.

“Morning,” he said, glancing up from his phone. “Coffee?”

“Please,” I replied, my voice still rough with sleep.

He poured a mug and slid it across the counter to me. Our fingers brushed during the exchange, and I nearly jumped at the contact, my dream still too fresh in my mind.

“Sleep well?” he asked, a knowing smirk playing at his lips.

“Fine,” I lied, taking a large gulp of coffee to hide my face. “You?”

“Very well. His eyes traveled over me, lingering on the silk pajamas. “You look good in blue.”

1 shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Thanks.”

“Hungry?” Alexander asked, moving to the kitchen with casual confidence. “I can make eggs. Or we could order something.”

“Eggs are fine,” I replied, following him. “I should probably head home after breakfast. I need to check on my dad.”

Alexander nodded, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator. “How is he doing?”

“Better. The doctor says he’s recovering well.” I leaned against the counter, watching Alexander crack eggs into a bowl with practiced ease.

“Good” He glanced up at me. “I’m glad to hear it.”

The domesticity of the moment struck me. Standing in his kitchen, discussing my father’s health while he made breakfast felt strangely normal.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of work, family visits, and carefully orchestrated public appearances with Alexander.

Our “relationship” became front–page news after we were spotted having dinner. The photos showed Alexander whispering something in my ear, my face flushed with laughter.

My routine settled into a strange new pattern. Weekdays were filled with intense work. We often spent evenings at Alexander’s penthouse, reviewing our “relationship timeline” and preparing for upcoming events. Weekends were split between family visits and public dates with Alexander.

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8:07 pm

Chapter 82

Through it all, we maintained a careful physical distance. No more waking up tangled together. No more sitting on his lap. Just the occasional touch for the benefit of photographers or family members.

23

My parents‘ house looked the same as always: white picket fence, well–tended garden, and the welcome mat Dad insisted on keeping despite Mom’s protests. Alexander parked his sleek Aston Martin at the curb, looking distinctly out of place in the neighborhood.

“Ready?” Alexander asked, his hand finding the small of my back as we walked up the path.

“As I’ll ever be.” I muttered. “Just remember, my dad’s still recovering. No stressing him out.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “I’m charming, remember?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

The door swung open before we could knock, revealing my mother in her favorite apron. Her face lit up at the sight of us.

“Olivia! Alexander! Come in, come in.” She pulled me into a hug before turning to Alexander. “So good to see you again. David’s in the living room, feeling much better.”

Alexander handed her a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. “Thank you for having us, Eleanor.”

Oh, these are beautiful!” Mom exclaimed, examining the expensive wine with wide eyes. “You didn’t need to bring anything.”

“Of course I did,” Alexander replied smoothly. “My mother raised me right.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as we followed Mom inside. Dad was sitting in his recliner, looking much better than he had in the hospital.

There’s my girl,” Dad said, his face crinkling into a smile as I leaned down to hug him carefully.

“How are you feeling, Dad?”

“Like a new man,” he replied, patting his chest. “Dr. Weaver says I’m recovering faster than expected.”

Alexander stepped forward, extending his hand. “Good to see you looking well.”

Dad shook Alexander’s hand, studying him with the intensity only fathers can manage. “Alexander. Thank you for arranging with Dr. Weaver. Man’s a miracle worker.”

“Happy to help,” Alexander said, taking a seat on the couch. I joined him, noticing how he casually draped his arm across the back, not quite touching me but making it clear we were together.

“Nicholas and Amelia should be here soon,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Ethan’s running late, something about a project

deadline

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