The CEO's Contractual Wife (Olivia and Alexander) novel Chapter 215

The café he’d chosen was tucked down a narrow street, all marble counters and gleaming espresso machines. Alexander was waiting at a corner table, jacket off, sleeves rolled up.

“How were the meetings?” I asked, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Productive.” He pushed a cappuccino toward me. “Ordered for you.”

“Thanks.” I took a sip, savoring the rich flavor. “This is amazing.”

“Wait until you try the pasta tonight.”

I laughed. “Always thinking about the next meal.”

“Can you blame me? Food here is an art form.”

We spent the afternoon exploring Milan properly. Alexander surprised me by actually putting his phone away, fully engaged as we wandered through historic streets.

The Duomo was even more spectacular up close, every surface covered in intricate detail. We climbed to the rooftop terraces, the city spreading out below us.

“This is incredible,” I breathed, leaning against the railing.

Alexander stood behind me, arms wrapped around my waist. “Worth the climb?”

“Definitely.” I twisted to look at him. “Thank you for doing this. I know sightseeing isn’t your thing.”

“It’s growing on me.” His eyes were warm as they met mine. “Especially with you.”

That night, dinner was at another hidden gem Alexander knew. The pasta was, as promised, life–changing. Rich carbonara that melted on my tongue, followed by delicate ravioli in brown butter sauce.

“You’re going to ruin me for all other food,” I said, practically moaning over my plate.

“That’s the plan.”

Back at the hotel, Alexander pulled me onto the balcony. The city lights twinkled below, warm air carrying the scent of jasmine.

“Dance with me,” he said suddenly.

“There’s no music.”

“Don’t need it.” His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close.

We swayed together, moving to a rhythm only we could hear. His hand traced patterns on my lower back, sending shivers through me.

“You’re staring,” I murmured.

“You’re beautiful.”

Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine. The kiss was slower than usual, less urgent but no less intense. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

“Bed?” I suggested.

“Bed.” Alexander agreed.

Inside, he undressed me slowly, savoring each revealed inch of skin. His mouth followed his hands, kissing and licking until I was squirming with need.

“Alex, please.”

“Patience.” His teeth grazed my nipple, making me gasp. “We have all night.

He took his time, worshiping my body until I was begging. Only then did he finally push inside me, moving with slow, deep strokes that had me climbing steadily toward release.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his pace never faltering. “Want to see your face when you come.”

I met his eyes, finding them dark with possession and something else I couldn’t name. That intensity, combined with the perfect angle of his thrusts, sent me over the edge.

“That’s it,” Alexander groaned, his rhythm becoming erratic. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Which one is his?” I asked, scanning the impressive collection.

Jesus, I breathed. “That thing could house a small village”

The driver pulled up to the dock entrance, where a young man in a crisp white uniform checked Alexander’s name against a list before waving us through. We drove down the pier, other guests strolling toward the yacht in designer casual wear.

“Nervous?” Alexander asked.

“Should I be?”

“Only if you’re easily intimidated by European socialites and their inflated sense of self–importance.”

“So I should be terrified, got it.”

Alexander laughed and squeezed my thigh. “You’ll be fine. Just smile and nod when people talk about their villas in Tuscany or their summer homes in Santorini. Most of them are boring as hell anyway.”

A uniformed crew member appeared as we approached the gangway, greeting Alexander warmly in Italian before gesturing for us to board. I followed Alexander up the polished teak steps, my hand gripping the chrome railing.

The deck opened into an entertainment space that defied logic. White leather seating areas surrounded glass tables, a full bar stretched along one side, and the space somehow felt both intimate and expansive. Everything gleamed, from the polished wood to the crystal glassware arranged in precise rows behind the bar.

“Alex!” A man who could only be Stefano emerged from a group near the bar. Tall, dark hair swept back from a handsome face, expensive sunglasses perched on his head despite the shade overhead. He embraced Alexander with the casual affection of old friends.

“Stefano, good to see you.”

“Too long, my friend. Too long.” Stefano’s English carried just enough accent to sound charming rather than difficult. His eyes shifted to me, lighting with appreciation. “And this must be the famous wife I’ve heard so much about. Olivia, yes?”

“That’s me.” I accepted his offered hand, expecting a shake, but he raised it to his lips instead.

“Bellissima. Alexander, you didn’t mention she was so beautiful.”

“I try to keep some things to myself,” Alexander replied dryly, though his hand found my lower back in what felt like a possessive gesture.

“Come, come. Let me show you around before the others monopolize your time.” Stefano gestured grandly toward the yacht’s interior. “We have champagne, excellent food, and the best view in all of Monaco.”

He wasn’t wrong about the view. As we moved through the yacht, each level revealed new luxuries. A dining room that could seat twenty. A cinema with plush reclining seats. A spa area complete with sauna and massage tables. The master suite on the top level featured floor to ceiling windows overlooking the harbor.