Chapter 24

Olivia

Alexander's expression softened slightly. "It's a business decision, Olivia. One that solves problems for both of us."

I thought about my father, about the surgery he needed. About my brothers struggling with their own financial burdens. One signature would change everything.

But what about me? What would my life look like after this? A year of pretending to be in love with Alexander Carter, then what? Would I be able to date normally again? Would anyone believe I hadn't married him for his money?

"What if people think I'm just a gold digger?"

"People will think whatever they want, regardless," he replied pragmatically. "But the narrative we create will be carefully managed."

I took a deep breath and picked up the pen. The weight of it felt significant in my hand, like I was holding my future.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I muttered, pressing the pen to paper.

"You're making the right choice," Alexander said, watching as I signed my name with a flourish.

As I set the pen down, a strange mix of relief and panic washed over me. What had I just agreed to?

Alexander took the contract, his fingers brushing mine in the process. The brief contact sent a jolt of electricity up my arm that I tried to ignore.

"No one knows about this arrangement," he said, carefully tucking the contract into a leather portfolio. "Only my lawyer. Not even my secretary is aware."

"So this is our dirty little secret?" I asked, trying to sound casual despite the racing of my heart.

His eyes darkened. "For now. Soon enough, the world will know we're together. Just not the terms."

Alexander moved to his desk and unlocked a drawer with a small key from his pocket. He pulled out his laptop and opened it, fingers flying across the keyboard.

"I'll need your bank account information," he said without looking up.

"Excuse me?"

"For the transfer. The three hundred thousand."

"Oh. Right." I rattled off the numbers as he typed.

"Savings or checking?" he asked.

"Checking. It's my only account."

Alexander's fingers paused briefly, judgment flickering across his face before he resumed typing.

"We'll set up proper accounts for you later. Multiple accounts. Investments. You'll need a financial advisor."

"I don't need—"

"You do." His tone left no room for argument. "Three hundred thousand is just the beginning. You need to learn how to manage wealth."

I bit back a retort. He was right, of course. I'd never had more than a few thousand in my account at any given time.

"And... done." Alexander hit enter with a flourish. "Check your balance."

I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers and opened my banking app. The page loaded, and I nearly dropped the phone.

$300,000.00

The numbers stared back at me, surreal and life-changing. More money than I'd ever seen.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Don't thank me, Olivia. I'm not helping you. This is business. A transaction. Remember that."

His words stung more than they should have. "Right. Of course."

He stood abruptly, buttoning his suit jacket with practiced ease. "We need to go on a date. Tonight."

"Tonight?" I blinked, caught off guard. "But I—"

"I've tipped off the paparazzi," he continued, cutting me off. "You'll be all over the tabloids tomorrow, but don't worry, your face won't be clear. Just enough to make everyone curious about who I'm seeing."

My mouth fell open. "You did what?"

"It's strategic," he said, walking around his desk toward me. "Creates intrigue. Builds anticipation for when we go public."

I stood up, suddenly feeling like prey being circled. "You could have warned me."

His eyes swept over me, assessing. "You'll need a change of outfit."

"Excuse me?"

"If we're photographed with you dressed like that, everyone will think I'm not treating my girlfriend properly." His tone was matter-of-fact, clinical.

I looked down at my clothes, the navy pencil skirt and cream blouse I'd carefully selected this morning. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

"Nothing for the office. It's perfectly... adequate." The way he said 'adequate' made it sound like an insult. "But not suitable for the places I'll be taking you tonight."

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment and irritation. "So what am I supposed to do? Go home and change? That'll take hours in traffic."

"No need. We'll go to my penthouse. I have clothes there."

I raised an eyebrow. "You have women's clothes at your place?"

"Let's go," he said instead of answering.

The ride to his penthouse was tense. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur as we sped through traffic.

"You didn't answer my question," I finally said as we pulled into the underground garage of his building.

"Which question was that?" He sounded distracted, checking something on his phone.

"Why do you have women's clothes at your place?"

The elevator doors closed, sealing us in the private car that went directly to his penthouse. The space suddenly felt smaller, more intimate.

Alexander stood close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"You didn't answer my question," I repeated, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why do you have women's clothing at your place?"

His lips curved into a smirk. "For situations exactly like this one."

"That's not an answer."

Alexander leaned against the elevator wall, studying me with those penetrating gray eyes. "I keep clothes in various sizes for women who stay over. Sometimes they need something fresh to wear in the morning."

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. "You mean your hookups."

"I prefer the term 'overnight guests,'" he replied smoothly.

"How considerate of you," I muttered, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. "Every playboy's dream, a closet full of women's clothes for the morning walk of shame."

"It's practical. Women appreciate not having to wear last night's clothes home."

I bit my tongue, stopping myself from asking why they couldn't wear their original clothes. Did he tear them off? Rip them in his eagerness? The image of Alexander ripping a woman's dress in passionate frenzy made heat pool between my legs, which only irritated me more.