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    bChapter /b84

    Olivia

    “Your family approves,” Alexander said after a moment. “That’s what matters.”

    “My dad told me to be careful,” I admitted. “He thinks we’re rushing.”

    “He’s right to be concerned. It would be strange if he wasn’t.”

    “And my mom pulled me aside to make sure this is what I want.”

    Alexander nced at me. “And what did you tell her?”

    “That I’m sure,” I said, meeting his gaze briefly. “That when it’s right, it’s right.”

    Something flickered in his eyes, satisfaction, perhaps, or something deeper. “Good answer.”

    We drove in silence for a while, the city lights blurring past my window. I thought about my family’s reactions, about the lies we’d told them, about the wedding we were now apparently nning for next month.

    “Why did you say next month?” I asked suddenly. “That’s bso /bsoon.”

    “The sooner we’re married, the sooner the inheritance is secure,” Alexander replied practically. “Besides, a long engagement would raise more questions. This way, it seems romantic and impulsive.”

    “Right,” I said, trying to ignore the slight sting his words caused. “Business.b” /b

    Alexander’s hand found mine across the center console, his touch warm and surprisingly gentle. “Not just business, Olivia. We make a good team.”

    I looked down at our joined hands, wondering when this arrangement had started to feel soplicated. When had the lines begun to blur?

    “We do,” I agreed softly.

    As we pulled up to my apartment building, Alexander turned to me. “Thank you for tonight. Your family is wonderful.”

    “They liked you,” I admitted. “Even Nick, and he never likes anyone I date.”

    “High praise indeed,” Alexander smiled. “Get some rest. We have a wedding to n.”

    I nodded, suddenly exhausted by the weight of our deception. “Goodnight, Alexander.”

    “Goodnight, Olivia.”

    I woke up earlier than usual on the big day. Sunlight barely crept through my bedroom window, but sleep had abandoned mepletely. Today I would be Mrs. Carter, wife to one of the most eligible bachelors in Los Angeles,

    And it was all fake.

    The contract marriage that had started as a business arrangement had evolved into something moreplicated. Alexander and I had been inseparable for weeks, attending dinners, charity gs, and family events. The world believed we were madly in love, and sometimes, in quiet moments when his hand would find mine or his eyes would linger, I almost believed it too.

    I rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom, sshing cold water on my face.

    “Just breathe,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just a contract. Just business.”

    My phone buzzed with a text from Emilia: “IT’S YOUR WEDDING DAY!!! I’M COMING OVER WITH CHAMPAGNE IN AN

    HOUR!!!”

    I smiled despite my nerves. Emilia’s enthusiasm was contagious, even if she didn’t know the truth behind this marriage. No one did, not my family, not my friends. Only Alexander and I knew this was all for show, a calcted move ito /isecure his inheritance and help my family financially.

    Another text came through, this one from Alexander: “Good morning, almost–wife. Nervous?”

    I typed back: “Terrified. You?”

    His response was immediate: “Not in the slightest. See you at the altar.”

    Of course, he wasn’t nervous. This was just another business transaction for him. I tossed my phone onto the bed and headed for the shower, letting the hot water wash away my anxiety.

    By the time Emilia arrived with champagne, as promised, plus bagels and enough energy to power a small city, I’d almost convinced myself I could pull this off.

    “Look at you!” she squealed, setting down her bags to hug me. “The blushing bride!”

    “I’m not blushing,” I protested, but I could feel heat creeping up my neck.

    “Not yet, but wait until you see what I brought for your honeymoon.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and pulled out a small gift bag from her purse.

    “Emilia,” I warned, but she thrust it into my hands.

    “Just look.”

    Inside was a tiny ck negligee that seemedposed more bof /bstraps than fabric. “I can’t wear thisb!/bb” /b

    “Alexander will love it,” she insisted with a wink. “Or rather, he’ll love taking it off you.”

    My eyes widened as I nced between the negligee and Emilia’s suggestive expression. Impossibly tiny straps, sheer ckce with strategic cut–outs b– /bthe piece left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I couldn’t help but imagine Alexander’s reaction if he saw me in it.

    Would his ieyes /idarken with that intense, predatory look I’d caught glimpses of before? Would his hands grip my waist firmly, pulling me against him so I could feel the hardness of his big cock pressing against my stomach, showing just what the sight did to him?

    Maybe he’d rip the negligee offpletely, those big hands tearing the delicate fabric like it was nothing while he backed me against the wall. Or perhaps he’d take his timeb, /brunning his fingers over each exposed inch of my skin, letting his mouth follow the same path, lingering on my breasts, flicking my nipples with his tongue until I was gasping his name.

    Would he slide his fingers down to my pussy, teasing my clit, making me squirm with need? Maybe he’d bend me over, his hands gripping my ass, spreading me open as he teased my pussy with his tongue. The thought of his dominant energy, of beingpletely at his mercy, sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

    “Holy shit, Olivia, Emiliaughed, waving her hand in front of my face. “Where did you just go? Your face is bright red.”

    “Nowhere,” I mumbled, trying to banish the images from my mind. “I was just thinking…”

    “About Alexander taking it off with his teeth?” Emilia supplied helpfully. “Because that’s definitely what that face bwas /bsaying.”

    b2/3 /b

    “No!” I protested weakly. “bI /bwas just thinking it’s very revealing.”

    “That’s the point,” Emilia said, rolling her eyes. “It’s your wedding night. You’re supposed to drive him crazy.”

    The wedding night. God, I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. What would happen after the ceremony? Would Alexander expect us to consummate this business arrangement? Would I want him to?

    b3/3 /b