The CEO's Contractual Wife (Olivia and Alexander) novel Chapter 242

Chapter 242

Olivia

We returned to the sitting room with dessert, where Alexander and Charles were discussing some business matter. The conversation over coffee and torte was pleasant, Harold regaling us with stories about building Carter Enterprises from the ground up.

After dessert, we said our goodbyes. Margaret hugged me warmly again, whispering, “Come visit me for lunch sometime. Just us girls.”

“I’d like that,” I replied, meaning it.

“You did well tonight, both of you. Keep it up.” Harold said, his voice rich with encouragement and pride.

I smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Margaret wheeled him toward the door, pausing to give me one last hug. “Don’t be a stranger, dear. And remember what I said about lunch.”

“I won’t forget,” I promised.

Alexander and I made our way to his car, the cool night air a relief after the warmth of the estate. He opened my door, and I slid into the leather seat with a grateful sigh.

Alexander pulled out of the circular driveway, the estate disappearing behind us.

We drove in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights blurring past my window. I kicked off my heels, wiggling my toes with relief.

“Your grandfather wants great–grandchildren,” I said suddenly.

Alexander glanced at me, amusement playing at his lips. “He’s been wanting them for years. Nothing new.”

“He seemed pretty serious about it.”

“He’s always serious.”

I watched the streets pass by, processing the evening. Harold’s warmth, Margaret’s kindness, Victoria’s barely concealed hostility. It was exhausting playing this role, pretending everything was real when it was all carefully constructed.

“Your grandfather’s really pushing for great–grandchildren,” on that before you get too old and can’t perform anymore.”

Alexander turned to face me.“Excuse me?”

I said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Better start working

I bit back a smile. “Just saying. You’re thirty–three. Biological clock’s ticking. Pretty soon you’ll need help just getting it up.” “Are you seriously suggesting I’m getting old?”

“Not suggesting. Stating a fact.” I kept my face perfectly serious. “Men have biological clocks too. Sperm quality declines. Mobility decreases. Energy levels drop.”

“My energy levels are just fine, thank you very much.”

“Sure, sure. That’s what all aging men say right before they throw out their backs reaching for the remote.”

Alexander’s jaw worked. “I’m perfectly capable of fathering children.”

“For now. But Harold wants those great–grandchildren soon. Can’t exactly wait around for you to figure out if everything still works properly.”

“Everything works perfectly.” His voice dropped an octave. “As you’re well aware.”

“Memory’s a bit fuzzy. Might need a demonstration.”

His hand landed on my thigh, warm and possessive. “I can demonstrate right now if you’d like. Pull over somewhere private.”

I laughed, pushing his hand away. “Eyes on the road, old man. Don’t want you having a heart attack while driving.”

“I’ll show you old,” he muttered. “For your information, I’m in peak physical condition.”

“Uh huh. That’s why you needed a nap after work yesterday.”

“I didn’t need a nap. I chose to rest my eyes.”

“Same thing.”

Successfully unlocked!

Tou Kilow what? Maybe we should reconsider this whole

Alexander’s hand returned to my thigh, sliding higher is wie. baby timeline.”

Chapter 242

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Really. We could start working on it tonight.” His fingers traced patterns against my skin through the fabric of my dress. Give Harold what he wants. Make the family happy.”

“I didn’t agree to getting pregnant,” I reminded him, my breath catching slightly as his hand moved higher. “Marriage was the deal. Nothing about babies.”

“Deals can be renegotiated.” His voice was pure silk now, dangerous and tempting. “New terms. Better benefits.” “What kind of benefits?”

His hand squeezed my thigh gently. “Whatever you want. Name it.”

I pretended to consider. “A yacht?”

“Done.”

“Private island?”

“Already have one. You’ve been there.”

“My own shopping mall?”

He laughed. “Now you’re just being difficult.”

“Maybe I don’t want to renegotiate.”

Alexander’s hand slid even higher, his pinky finger grazing the edge of my panties. “Sure about that?”

My pulse quickened. “Very sure.”

“Liar.” He pulled his hand back reluctantly, returning it to the steering wheel. “But fine. No babies tonight.”

“Good. Because I’m tired and cranky and not in the mood for your biological urges.”

“My biological urges are perfectly healthy, thank you.”

“For an old man.”

“I’m going to make you eat those words later.”

“Promises, promises.”

We pulled into the estate’s driveway, the house lit up against the dark sky. Alexander parked and came around to open my door, offering his hand.

“Such a gentleman,” I teased.

“Only for you.” He pulled me close as we walked toward the entrance. “And only because I’m trying to prove I’m not old.” “Try harder.”

Inside, Alfred greeted us with his usual efficiency. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Carter. How was dinner with the family?” “Eventful,” Alexander replied. “We’ll be in the bedroom. Please don’t disturb us.”

My cheeks flushed as Alfred nodded without any change in expression. “Of course, sir. Goodnight.”

Alexander guided me upstairs, his hand never leaving the small of my back. Once we reached the bedroom, he closed the door and turned to face me.

“Now,” he said, his eyes dark with intent, “about those comments regarding my age and stamina.”

I backed up slowly. “What about them?”

“I think they require correction.” He advanced on me like a predator stalking prey. “Thorough correction.”

“I stand by what I said.”

“Do you now?” He caught me around the waist, pulling me flush against him. “Even knowing what’s about to happen?” My heart raced. “Especially then.”

I reached up, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble that had appeared since this morning. “You know,” I said, letting my thumb brush over his cheekbone, “you’re getting wrinkles right here.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t have wrinkles.”

“You absolutely do.” I traced the barely visible lines at the corners of his eyes. “See? Right there. Laugh lines. Or maybe they‘ re stress lines from all that demanding CEO work you do.”

“Those aren’t wrinkles.”

“Sure, they’re not.” I patted his cheek condescendingly. “It’s okay, Alex. Aging happens to everyone. Even billionaires.”