All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Contract Wife Can't Let Go: Chapter 31 - Chapter 38

Alex POV: Jodie Doesn't CookThere's a noise in my head that the late-night jazz playing in the bar is unable to quiet. Stanton’s nursing a glass of whiskey beside me, his sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened. The place is almost empty. From where I'm sitting, I can see a few suits unwinding, a couple laughing out loud in the corner. I swirl the last of my bourbon, watching the ice melt.“The pictures on Instagram weren’t my idea,” I say. “Jodie posted them. The convertible, the couture place, the rings emoji. All her.”“I know.”“Good.”Stanton says, “Even Elon Musk has social media, man. He tweets about whatever the hell he wants on Twitter. You should learn to use it. Especially since Jodie loves it.”I snort. “Elon isn’t dating Jodie. He can tweet all he wants.”Stanton checks his watch, he exhales. “Look, I’ve got a wife to get back to. I need to tuck my daughter in. Story time, you know, the whole routine.”I look at him. “Are you mocking me?”“No.” He sets his glass down. “I’m

Dana POV: One Company To Birth Them AllDad’s old office will never cease to make me feel watched. I'm at the window, staring at the city skyline, trying to process the phone call that just ended. But I look back at the high backed chair and imagine my old man sitting there, looking at me. My phone rings and I pick it to hear mom's voice. “I'm at the hospital here, Dana,” she says. “How's it coming together in Washington?”“Its okay out here, mom. How's dad?” “He's doing his best, I guess,” she murmurs. “I'm happy about the sale of Wood and Ward,” she says and my eyes open a little wider. “Your dad loves that company. It is his favorite in his empire, did you know that?” No, I didn't. I start to giggle. “Dad never said anything like that?” “Men never tell you the one they love the most,” she says almost wistfully. “Your dad loves that company and would never let go if he wasn't in a hospital, dying.”My back stiffens and I catch my breath. I sit on the chair and lean back. “Mo

Alex POV: The Interview With Wuckert There is nothing striking about the Dutch Crescent address. It looks too small and ordinary. A narrow brick facade squeezed between a law office and a dry cleaner, the sign reading “Crescent Media Solutions – Cable Television Distribution” in plain block letters. Nothing about it screams power. Nothing about it matches the weight my father put behind the words “go see him” this morning.Dad’s call had come at dawn. He had sounded ominous when he said, “I need you to meet Colt Wuckert. He's a member of the Club of Eight. Dutch Crescent, West End. Be there at ten. Don’t be late.” He had offered no other explanation. He didn't prep me. All I had was the address and the expectation that I’d understand.I understand enough to know this is no casual meeting. After Orsini’s party, after seeing those six men at the table, I couldn’t stop thinking about the seat that had been empty. Who did it belong to? My father wants me there, I believe. Yesterday Jo

Dana POV: Bert Loves The Painting Bert Friesen stares at the painting on the easel like he’s afraid the painting might vanish. He steps back and looks at me again, his eyes wide behind his round glasses.“You’re not messing with me,” he says. “You painted this?”I frown, my heart kicking up. “What’s wrong? You told me you liked it. You flew all the way here because of it.”He shakes his head, already pulling his phone from his coat pocket. “You don’t understand, Dana. It looks even better than in the photo you sent. You are something else.” “Oh.”Whew. He dials, puts the phone to his ear, and keeps staring at the canvas as he listens to the ringing. “Are you sure you’re not going to leave your dad’s business and move to France?” he asks me. I shake my head. “No way. Basquiat went out there and died.”“Basquiat died in his studio in Manhattan. He died here, not there.”“Okay,” I say, shrugging. “You get my point.” I grin and turn back to the painting. A text comes in on my phone