Chapter 15

Olivia

We stepped onto a massive balcony with a panoramic view of Los Angeles. The night air was cool against my heated skin, the city stretching before us like a blanket of stars.

"Jesus," I breathed, moving to the railing. "This is unreal."

A hot tub bubbled in one corner, steam rising into the night. Comfortable loungers were arranged around a fire pit that cast a warm glow over the space.

Alexander came up behind me, his chest brushing my back. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I agreed, trying to ignore how perfectly I fit against him. "I've never seen the city like this."

"Most people haven't." His hands settled on the railing on either side, caging me in again. "This view is reserved for those who reach the top."

"Or those who marry men at the top," I countered.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. "True. But you'd be getting more than just the view, Olivia."

"Like what?" I turned to face him, trapped between his body and the railing.

"Security. Luxury. Freedom from financial worry."

I stepped back, needing space to think clearly. His proximity was making it hard to concentrate, and my body was responding to him in ways my brain knew were dangerous.

"I still don't get it," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why a contractual wife? You're rich, powerful, and let's be honest, you're hot as fuck. You could snap your fingers and have a line of women willing to marry you."

Alexander leaned against the railing, the city lights casting shadows across his face. "The real thing comes with complications I'm not interested in."

"Like what?"

"Emotional entanglements. Expectations. The constant need for reassurance." He waved his hand dismissively. "I've tried the traditional route. Multiple times."

"And?"

"And I can't maintain that level of emotional commitment." His voice was matter-of-fact, clinical, almost. "I get bored. Or they want more than I can give."

"So you want all the benefits of marriage with none of the actual relationship parts?" I raised an eyebrow. "That's convenient."

"It's honest," he countered. "I've dated many women, Olivia. Beautiful women. Intelligent women. Accomplished women. None of it works because eventually, they all want the same fucking thing—emotional bonding. And I can't do it."

"Example?"

His jaw tightened. "Penelope Langford. Perfect on paper. Our families approved. The engagement was announced in the Times. Two weeks before the wedding, I called it off."

"Why?"

"She wanted love." He said the word like it was a disease. "Started talking about our future children, what we'd name them, where we'd vacation. I realized I was about to trap myself in a life I didn't want."

I studied him, trying to see past the arrogant CEO to whatever damaged part lay beneath. "Some people might say that's what marriage is supposed to be about. Love, commitment, and building a life together. Having kids who drive you crazy, but you love them anyway. Growing old with someone who still thinks you're hot when you're wrinkly and gray."

"Some people would be right—for them." His eyes locked with mine. "I'm not interested in that package."

"So what happens in the future?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Don't you want someone to grow old with? Someone who knows all your stories and still laughs at your stupid jokes?"

Something flashed behind his eyes, regret? Longing? It was gone before I could identify it.

"Maybe someday," he admitted. "If I find the right person. But I can only discover that by spending time with them and being with them. I'm not there yet."

"So you admit there could be someone out there who could change your mind?"

He shrugged one broad shoulder. "Theoretically. But I'm not holding my breath."

"I think you're wrong," I said, emboldened by the wine and the night air. "I think someday you'll meet someone who completely blindsides you. Someone who makes you rethink all these walls you've built. And you'll want to marry them for real."

"Is that so?" His mouth quirked up at one corner.

"Yeah, it is." I smiled, leaning against the railing. "I hope you find that person, Mr. Carter. I really do."

His eyes darkened as they held mine. "And what about you? What's your grand romantic vision?"

"After Ryan?" I snorted. "I'm thinking cats. Lots of cats."

"Ah, yes, your cheating ex." Alexander's voice hardened. "Tell me about him."

"Nothing to tell. We dated for two years." I looked out at the city, the lights blurring slightly. "I thought we were heading somewhere real. I imagined our future together, marriage, kids, the whole thing. Then I found him balls deep in my friend at her birthday party. He thought my friend's pussy was more interesting than mine."

"Blunt."

"Yeah, well. His dick was nothing special anyway. Average at best." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Alexander's eyebrows shot up. "Is that so?"

Heat crawled up my neck. "Forget I said that."

"I don't think I will." His voice dropped an octave. "It's valuable information."

"For what?"

"Research purposes."

I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, my point is, I still believe in finding someone to spend my life with. Someone who wants the same future as I do. I just need to heal first, then start over."

"If you agree to marry me," Alexander said, his tone serious again, "you can't find that person. Not until our contract ends."

"I know that," I replied. "I haven't agreed to anything yet. And if I do, I'll wait. Some things are worth waiting for."

Alexander stepped closer, his body radiating heat in the cool night air. "And you think love is one of those things?"

"I do." I met his gaze steadily. "Don't you?"

"I think love is overrated. A chemical reaction designed to ensure procreation. Nothing more."

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard."

He shrugged again. "It's realistic."

"It's bullshit," I countered. "And I think deep down, you know it."