Olivia

I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror.

The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear.

Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them.

I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman?

I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much."

The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts.

"Baby, please let me explain"

"It was a mistake."

"Call me."

"I love YOU, not her."

Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.

Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors.

The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso.

"Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?"

"New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk.

Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week."

"Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words.

"The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him."

If only she knew.

"I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations."

Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?"

"Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized.

Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?"

"The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important."

"Like hell it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?"

I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fucking Sophia at her birthday party."

All three women froze.

"Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open.

I nodded.

"That backstabbing cunt," Nova breathed.

"I hope his dick falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder.

"That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself.

"What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details.

"I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story."

"Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has."

"Preferably someone with a bigger dick and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested.

"Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch."

They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning.

I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter.

The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private.

And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive.

At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives.

"So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like your ass was on fire."

I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil."

Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time."

"What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward.

"I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever."

"Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes."

"To Olivia," the others echoed.

"Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?"

I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left."

I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow.

The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless.

Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter?

Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up.

"Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away."

"And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs.

Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation."

Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping.

I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home.

By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time.

At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly.

He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Olivia

Our director began the presentation, introducing the campaign and the team behind it. When my turn came, I stepped forward on shaky legs.

"Good morning," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'll be walking you through our social media strategy for the new product line."

I clicked on the first slide, focusing on the familiar material rather than the gray eyes I could feel watching me. As I spoke, my confidence grew. This was my territory. I knew these numbers, these platforms, these strategies inside and out.

Halfway through my section, I dared to look directly at Alexander. His expression was unreadable as he studied me, head slightly tilted. When our eyes met, though, something seemed to change in his face.

I thought I saw recognition flicker in those steel-gray eyes. His lips parted just a bit, and for a fleeting moment, it almost looked as if he was genuinely surprised, or maybe I just imagined it.

I faltered for just a second before pushing forward, explaining the projected engagement metrics for I*******m. When I glanced back at him, he leaned toward one of his assistants, saying something while still watching me.

I finished my section and handed it off to Vivian, returning to my seat with my heart pounding. Throughout the rest of the presentation, I could feel Alexander's gaze returning to me, but I kept my eyes firmly on whoever was speaking.

When the presentation concluded, our director asked for questions. Alexander spoke for the first time.

"Impressive work," he said, his deep voice instantly recognizable. "Particularly the social media strategy. Very innovative approach."

My cheeks burned as several colleagues glanced my way. The director beamed, thanking him for his attendance and feedback.

As the room began to clear, I gathered my notes quickly, planning a strategic retreat. I'd almost made it to the door when I heard his voice behind me.

"Ms. Morgan, isn't it?"

I turned slowly, finding Alexander standing just a few feet away, hands in his pockets. His expression was neutral, but his eyes held a glint of something I couldn't identify.

"Yes, sir," I managed. "Olivia Morgan."

He studied me for a moment, and I wondered if he was comparing the professional, composed version with the one he had met that night. The woman in the little black dress with mascara streaks and a shattered heart versus the polished junior executive who'd just delivered a flawless presentation.

"It's been a long time," he said finally, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "How are you?"

I blinked. "Long time?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Was his brain wired wrong? It had been less than a week since he'd driven me home from the worst night of my life.

Alexander's eyes flickered with something that might have been amusement. "Why don't we talk in my office?"

My stomach dropped to somewhere around my ankles. His office? The mythical top-floor sanctuary that junior executives whispered about but never visited? Before I could formulate a response, Nova appeared at my elbow, a stack of folders clutched to her chest.

"Olivia, I need you to—" She froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she registered Alexander standing there. "Oh! Mr. Carter. I'm sorry, I didn't realize..." She backed away like she'd stumbled upon a sleeping tiger. "Carry on. It can wait."

She disappeared so quickly I half-expected to see a Nova-shaped cloud of dust in her wake.

"Okay," I said, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth had become.

As we walked toward the elevator, I gave myself a mental shake. Why was I so nervous? I hadn't done anything wrong. So what if he'd seen me at my lowest moment? I'd caught my boyfriend cheating, been harassed by drunks, and Alexander had simply been a decent human being who offered us a ride. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

The elevator doors closed with a soft chime, leaving us alone in the sleek, private space.

Alexander pressed the button for the top floor, and I tried not to fidget as we ascended in silence.

"Your presentation was excellent," he said suddenly. "You have a solid grasp of social media demographics."

"Thank you," I managed, surprised by the compliment. "It's kind of my thing."

The elevator dinged open to reveal a reception area I'd never seen before. Unlike the bustling marketing department fifteen floors below, this space was hushed, with sleek furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Los Angeles.

A woman with an impossibly tight bun looked up from behind a desk. "Mr. Carter, your three o'clock had called to reschedule."

"Thank you." He guided me past reception with a light touch on my lower back that sent electricity shooting up my spine.

Alexander's office was less of an office and more of a luxury apartment, minus the bedroom. A massive desk dominated one end, while a seating area with leather couches occupied another. A wet bar gleamed in the corner, and the views... dear God, the views. Los Angeles sprawled beneath us like a living map, the ocean visible in the distance.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked, moving toward the bar.

"Water would be great." I remained standing, uncertain of where to place myself in this vast space.

He returned with two glasses, gesturing toward the couches. "Please, sit."

I perched on the edge of an expensive leather couch.

Alexander settled across from me, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, the picture of relaxed authority.

"So," he said, taking a sip of his water. "How are you really?"

The question caught me off guard. It wasn't the professional inquiry I'd expected.

"I'm... fine," I replied automatically, then reconsidered. "Actually, I'm better than I expected to be. Turns out finding your boyfriend having sex with your friend puts things in perspective."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I imagine it would."

"Look, about that night..." I began, deciding to address the elephant in the room. "I appreciate what you did, but I hope it won't affect how you see me professionally."

Alexander set his water glass down with deliberate precision. "Your personal life doesn't diminish your professional capabilities, Ms. Morgan. Your work speaks for itself."

Relief washed through me. "Thank you. I was worried—"

"However," he interrupted, leaning forward slightly, "there is something I'd like to discuss with you."

"What is it?" I asked, my fingers nervously tracing the condensation on my water glass.

Alexander's eyes locked with mine, intense and unblinking. The silence stretched between us for three heartbeats.

"I need a wife." His voice was steel wrapped in velvet. "And you're going to marry me."

Water sprayed across the coffee table as I choked mid-sip. "I'm sorry, what?"