bChapter /b123

    Olivia

    After a quick lunch with my parents, I headed to the estate, anxious to see how my belongings would look in my new home. The gates swung open as the car approached, and I felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation. This was really my life

    now.

    Alfred met me at the door, his expression as impassive as ever. “Mrs. Carter, the movers have delivered your items. I’ve directed them to ce the boxes in the designated areas as Mr. Carter instructed.”

    “Thank you, Alfred,” I said, still ufortable with being waited on. “I can take it from here.”

    “Very good, ma’am. Chef will serve dinner at seven, unless you’d prefer a different time?”

    “Seven is fine,” I assured him, already heading for the stairs. “I’ll just start unpacking.”

    I found my clothes already hanging in the enormous walk–in closet, taking up maybe a tenth of the avable space. My books had been arranged on shelves in the library, and my toiletries were ced neatly in the bathroom cabs. It was like magic, if magic were performed by highly efficient moving professionals.

    The only boxes left untouched were the ones containing my personal items, which had been ced discreetly in the corner of the bedroom. I spent the afternoon arranging photos and keepsakes to make the massive space feel more like mine.

    By six, I was showered and changed, wandering through the house that was now supposedly my home. It still felt surreal, like I was ying house in someone else’s life.

    My phone buzzed with a text from Alexander: Runningte. Start dinner without me. Miss you.

    The unexpected sentiment made me smile. I replied: Your loss. I’ll eat all the good parts.

    His response came quickly: Save room for dessert. I have ns for youter.

    My body responded instantly to his suggestive tone, remembering exactly what kind of “dessert” he’d given mest night.

    Dinner was a solitary affair in the massive dining room, though Chef Marcelo’s food was exceptional as always. I was just finishing when I heard the front door open and Alexander’s voice echoing through the foyer.

    “Liv?” he called, his footsteps approaching the dining room.

    “In here,” I replied, taking a final bite of the chocte soufflé that had appeared as if by magic after my main course.

    Alexander entered, looking tired but pleased to see me. He loosened his tie as he approached, bending to kiss me with surprising tenderness.

    “How was the move?” he asked, stealing a bite of my dessert.

    “Surprisingly painless, thanks to your army of efficient minions.”

    Heughed. “They’re the best in the businessb./bb” /b

    “I can tell. My clothes are already hanging in the closet, looking pathetically inadequate next to your designer collection.”

    “We’ll fix that.” His eyes raked over me, heating in a way that had nothing to do with shopping. “But not tonight. Tonight I have other ns.”

    b7:58 /bbpm /bbP /b

    “Oh?” I tried to sound casual, though my pulse had already quickened. “What kind of ns?”

    Alexander leaned in. his lips brushing my car. “The kind that involves you screaming my name until your throat is biraw/i/bbi? /i/b

    My breath caught. “Confident, aren’t you?”

    “Just experienced,i” /ihe replied, his hand sliding along my thigh under the table. “Very, very experienced”

    I pushed my chair back, standing up with a boldness that surprised even me. “Then what are we waiting for? I’m ready for my real dessert.”

    “You have no idea what you’re in for.”

    “Show me,” I challenged, taking his hand and leading him toward the stairs. “Show me exactly what I’ve gotten myself into.” He followed willingly, his grip on my hand tightening as we climbed the stairs to our bedroom. Our bedroom, in our home. Morning arrived with sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows. I blinked, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings before remembering where I was. The Carter estate. My new home.

    Alexander was already awake beside me, scrolling through emails on his phone. His hair was adorably mussed, contrasting with his serious expression.

    “Morning,” I mumbled, stretching my arms above my head.

    His eyes flickered to me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Good morning, Mrs. Carter. Sleep well?”

    “Like a rock,” I admitted.

    Alexander set his phone down and rolled toward me. “We should get up. We have a busy day ahead.”

    “Five more minutes,” I protested, snuggling deeper under the silky sheets.

    “No can do. Board meeting at nine.” He nted a quick kiss on my forehead before sliding out of bed. “I’ll start the coffee.”

    I groaned but forced myself to sit up. “Fine. But I want the fancy coffee. Not that instant crap.”

    “We don’t have instant coffee in this house.”

    An hourter, we were both dressed and heading downstairs. Alexander looked impable in a tailored navy suit, while I’d opted for a cream blouse and pencil skirt that felt professional yet stylish.

    Alfred met us at the bottom of the staircase, holding a tray with two travel mugs. “Your coffee for the road, sir. And one for Mrs. Carter as well.”

    “Thanks, Alfred,” I said, taking the mug. The smell alone was enough to make my mouth water.

    Alexander checked his watch. “We should get going.”

    I followed him to the garage, where his collection of luxury vehicles gleamed under the recessed lighting. He stopped halfway down the row and turned to me with a thoughtful expression.

    “You need a car,” he announced. “Choose one from here, or I’ll buy you something new.”

    I stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

    b7:58 /bbpm /bP DD

    “Completely.” He gestured at the vehicles. “The Porsche might suit you. Or there’s the Range Rover if you prefer something more substantial. Alternatively, we could purchase a brand new vehicle this week.”

    “Stop trying to buy me things.”

    “It’s what husbands do,” he replied with a shrug. “Buy their wives presents.”

    “Normal husbands buy flowers or jewelry. Not cars.”

    “I’m not a normal husband,” Alexander said, smirking. “In case you haven’t noticed.”

    “Trust me, I’ve noticed,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “But can we decide about the car situation this evening? We need to get to the office.”

    “Fine,” Alexander conceded, grabbing keys for the Aston Martin. “But you’re not getting out of this conversation. You need your own vehicle.”

    I slid into the passenger seat, appreciating the butter–soft leather. “I’ve managed just fine with rideshares and public transportation.”

    “Public transportation?” Alexander looked genuinely horrified as he started the engine. “No wife of mine is taking the bus.”

    “It’s called being environmentally conscious,” I shot back.

    “It’s called unnecessary suffering.” The car purred to life, and Alexander expertly navigated out of the garage. “Besides, you’re a Carter now. Image matters.”

    “So it’s all about appearances?”

    Alexander nced at me, his expression softening slightly. “No, it’s about making your life easier. And maybe I like the iidea /iof giving you nice things.”

    I couldn’t help but smile at that.

    Wepsed into afortable silence with Alexander navigating the morning traffic, the softly ying radio providing a backdrop until my phone rang, interrupting the moment.

    I pulled my phone from my purse, expecting Emilia or Mom, but the name on the screen froze me: Ryan.

    biAD /i/b

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