The CEO's Contractual Wife (Olivia and Alexander) novel Chapter 249

Chapter 249

Alexander

The previous day…

85

EX 55 vouchers

I pulled into the parking lot of Wilshire Country Club just after ten on Sunday morning, the familiar sight of manicured greens stretching out before me. The valet approached before I’d even killed the engine.

“Good morning, Mr. Carter.”

“Morning.” I handed him the keys and headed toward the clubhouse.

The place was busy for a Sunday, members scattered across the grounds, enjoying the perfect LA weather. I nodded to a few familiar faces as I made my way toward the pro shop, where I spotted Mike reviewing his scorecard with another member.

“Mr. Carter!” He waved me over. “Didn’t expect to see you here today.”

I glanced around. “Grandfather mentioned he’d be here this morning.”

Mike grinned. “Course twelve. Playing with James Westbrook and Senator Dawkins. Started about forty minutes ago.”

Of course, Grandfather would be playing with James. The old man loved keeping tabs on my competitors.

“Thanks.” I headed toward the course, spotting a golf cart parked near the path.

I drove the cart down the winding path, the morning sun warming my shoulders. The groundskeepers had outdone themselves, every blade of grass perfectly trimmed, the sand traps pristine white against the emerald fairways.

Course twelve came into view, and I spotted them on the green. Grandfather sat in his specialized golf cart, watching as James lined up a putt. Senator Dawkins stood to the side, arms crossed.

I parked near the trees, content to observe without interrupting their game.

James’s stance was perfect, shoulders square, eyes focused on the ball. He drew back his putter in a smooth motion and struck. The ball rolled across the green, catching the slope and curving toward the hole. It circled the rim once before dropping in.

“Beautiful shot!” Senator Dawkins called out, clapping.

Grandfather nodded his approval. “Your short game’s improved.”

“Been practicing,” James replied, retrieving his ball. “Finally hired a decent coach.”

Senator Dawkins stepped up next, surveying his lie. His ball sat about fifteen feet from the pin, a tricky uphill shot with a slight break to the left.

12:20 Sun, Jan 11

Chapter 249

“Take your time,” Grandfather advised. “That slope’s deceptive.”

The Senator adjusted his grip twice before settling into his stance. He struck the ball cleanly, but underestimated the break. The ball rolled past the hole by a good three feet.

“Damn it,” he muttered, walking after it.

“You rushed it,” James observed. “Let the green tell you what to do instead of forcing the shot.”

“Easy for you to say. You just made a fifteen–footer.”

James shrugged, that confident smile playing at his lips. “Practice makes perfect.”

,)

55 vouchers

I watched as Senator Dawkins lined up his next putt, this one much shorter. He tapped it in without ceremony, then marked his scorecard with obvious frustration.

“What’s that put you at?” Grandfather asked.

“Four over for the hole. Terrible.”

“Could be worse,” James said cheerfully. “Remember that seven you had on the eighth?”

“Don’t remind me.” Senator Dawkins glared at him, but there was no real heat in it.

They moved to the next tee, and I followed at a distance, still content to watch. Grandfather noticed me first, raising his cane in greeting.

“Alexander! When did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago. Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Come join us,” he commanded.

Senator Dawkins extended his hand. “Congratulations on the marriage. Your wife seems lovely.”

“She is.”

Grandfather wheeled his cart closer. “You here to play or just spectate?”

“Spectate, actually. Didn’t bring my clubs.”

“Nonsense. The pro shop has loaners.” He turned to James. “You don’t mind if Alexander joins us?”

James’s smile tightened fractionally. “Not at all. The more the merrier.”

“I don’t want to intrude on your game,” I said.

“You’re not,” Grandfather insisted. “Go grab some clubs. We’ll wait.”

I knew better than to argue when he used that tone.

12:20 Sun, Jan 11

85

Chapter 249

55 vouchers

Fifteen minutes later, I’d selected a set of clubs from the pro shop and returned to find them on the thirteenth tee. James was mid–swing, his drive sailing down the fairway in a perfect arc.

“Show off,” Senator Dawkins muttered good–naturedly.

“Just consistent,” James replied, stepping back to let the Senator tee up.

Dawkins’s drive was respectable but lacked James’s distance, landing about forty yards shorter.

“Your turn, Alexander,” Grandfather said. “Let’s see if marriage has improved your game.”

I selected my driver, feeling the familiar weight in my hands. It had been weeks since I’d played, but muscle memory kicked in as I addressed the ball. I drew back and swung through, connecting solidly. The ball flew straight and true, landing just past James’s marker.

James studied my ball’s position, his expression neutral. “Nice shot.”

“Thanks.”

We climbed into our respective carts, James and Senator Dawkins in one, Grandfather and me in the other.

We reached our balls, and I spent the next several minutes focusing on my approach shot. The hole was a par four, and I’d left myself about a hundred and thirty yards to the pin.

James and the Senator were already on the green by the time I lined up my shot. I selected a nine iron and took a practice swing, adjusting my grip.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Grandfather called from his cart.

I addressed the ball, cleared my mind of everything except the shot, and swung. The ball arced high, landed on the front of the green, and rolled to within six feet of the pin.

“Damn,” Grandfather said appreciatively. “You’re on fire today.”

James watched my ball come to rest with an unreadable expression. When I joined them on the green, he gave me a nod. “Hell of a shot.”

“Thanks.”

Senator Dawkins was lining up his putt, a tricky fifteen–footer with multiple breaks. He studied it from every angle before finally committing.

The ball rolled left, caught the slope, broke right, and somehow found the cup.

“Yes!” He pumped his fist. “Finally!”

“About time,” James teased. “Only took you thirteen holes to make something.”

“I’ll take it.” The Senator marked his scorecard with obvious satisfaction.

James’s putt was next, a relatively easy eight–footer. He sank it without ceremony, marking par.

12:20 Sun, Jan 11

Chapter 249

$5 vouchers

That left me. Six feet, straight in. I crouched to read the green, checking the grain of the grass.

“Take your time,” Grandfather advised unnecessarily.

I stood, addressed the ball, and struck it firmly. It rolled straight into the center of the cup.

“Birdie,” Grandfather announced proudly. “That’s my boy.”

We played the next three holes in silence, each of us focused on our game. James remained polite but distant, his competitive nature evident in every shot. The Senator loosened up after his successful putt and played with more confidence.

The Senator departed after the sixteenth hole, leaving just the three of us. The atmosphere shifted immediately, the pretense of casual golf dropping away.

“So,” James said as we approached the seventeenth tee, “how’s the Thompson project coming along?”

I glanced at him. “Fine.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify