The Ceo's Contract Wife

Chapter Two: Mutual Desperation

Alex

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Alex! Do you know how many men would kill to be with me?"

I gritted my teeth as Veronica's shrill voice pierced through the evening air. Another waste of my time. I'd only agreed to this date to appease my grandfather, but it was clear within the first five minutes that Veronica Hayes was just another gold digger with her eyes on the Blackwell fortune.

Standing outside the restaurant, I loosened my tie slightly, the only indication of my frustration. Inside, through the large glass windows, I could see an older man reaching under the table toward a young woman who looked deeply uncomfortable. My jaw clenched involuntarily as I recognized him. Victor Thompson, a corrupt businessman whose case I'd personally rejected last year. Seemed his moral compass hadn't improved.

"Lexy, are you even listening to me?" Veronica slurred, stumbling slightly in her ridiculously high heels. The third glass of wine had clearly been one too many. "I was saying how good I am with my mou—"

"I heard you the first time," I cut her off coldly. "And I believe I've made it clear I'm not interested."

My grandfather's words from this morning echoed in my head: "Twenty-six and still unmarried. Your father was married and had you by twenty-five. The board is getting anxious, Alexander. Find a suitable wife by the end of the month, or I'll have to reconsider the succession plan."

The threat lingered in the air between us even hours later. After Father's stroke last year, Grandfather had taken back control of Blackwell Enterprises. If I didn't find a wife, and soon, everything I'd worked for would slip through my fingers.

Movement caught my eye as the young woman from inside stood up abruptly, clearly angry. Good for her. Thompson deserved to be put in his place.

"I'm afraid that's not what I meant by a 'stimulating conversation' tonight," I told Veronica, who was now practically hanging off my arm.

"Alex, baby, you misunderstood!" She giggled, swaying dramatically. "When I said I was good with my mouth—"

A snort of laughter interrupted us. My eyes snapped to the source, the same young woman who'd just stormed out of the restaurant. There was something familiar about her...

"Come on, Lexy, your grandfather won't know if you skip out on this silly marriage arrangement. Let's go to my place and—"

"That's quite enough, Veronica," I said sharply, removing her hand from my arm like it was contaminated. How did she know about my grandfather's ultimatum? Word traveled too quickly in our social circles.

The scene that followed was predictable, fury, threats, a dramatic exit. All standard fare for these arranged dates. Once Veronica was safely in her car, I turned my attention back to the young woman who was awkwardly trying to blend into the background.

There was definitely something familiar about her. The way she held herself, professional even in distress. The slight furrow between her brows as she watched our exchange.

"Miss..." I began, expecting her to fill in the blank.

"Lawson," she supplied, a flash of something—hurt? crossed her face. "Evelyn Lawson, a receptionist at your firm."

Of course. The receptionist who greeted me every morning at the firm for... how long had it been now? Two years? Three? Quietly competent, always professional. I'd never paid much attention to her beyond noting that she did her job well.

"Rough night?" she asked, then immediately looked like she regretted speaking.

"I could ask you the same, Miss Lawson. You seemed... distressed when you exited the restaurant."

She flushed slightly. "Just another blind date disaster. Nothing new."

"Indeed." I looked at her more carefully now. Professional attire, though slightly more elegant than what she wore at the office. No wedding ring. Intelligent eyes. Not conventionally beautiful by society's standards, but striking in her own way.

A thought struck me suddenly, bold, outrageous, and possibly brilliant.

Miss Lawson was an employee. She understood professional boundaries. She wasn't part of my social circle, which meant no messy entanglements. Grandfather had specified I needed a wife, he hadn't specified what kind of marriage it needed to be.

It was impulsive, completely out of character for me. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Miss Lawson," I said, my voice steady despite the madness of what I was about to propose. "Marry me."

Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth dropping open slightly. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me correctly. I'm proposing a business arrangement—a marriage in name only."

"Mr. Blackwell, with all due respect, have you lost your mind?" She clutched her purse tighter, like she might need to use it as a weapon against my apparent insanity.

"I assure you, I'm perfectly sane. I need a wife for business reasons. My grandfather has made it clear that if I don't marry soon, I lose my position as heir." The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I'd never imagined I'd be sharing family business with an employee, but here we were.

"And you thought of me because...?" Her voice trailed off, confusion evident.

"You're professional. You understand boundaries. You're not looking for a love match, considering your... experience tonight." I gestured toward the restaurant where Thompson was probably still nursing his wounded pride. "This would be a contract, nothing more, nothing less."

She stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to be your wife?"

"Not pretend. We would legally marry, but it would be a business arrangement only. No emotions. No intimacy." I clarified, keeping my voice even. "In return, you'd have financial security and a significant promotion."

I could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. Everyone had a price—I just needed to find hers.

"And what makes you think I'd agree to something like this?" she asked, but there was a flicker of interest in her eyes.

"Because you need something too, Miss Lawson." I'd seen the worn edges of her shoes, slowly remembering how she brought lunch from home every day. The way she worked overtime without complaint. "Whatever it is, I can help you get it."

Her phone buzzed again, and this time I saw her glance at it, worry crossing her face. Family troubles, perhaps? Financial issues? It didn't matter. Everyone had their pressure points.

"Think about it," I said, pulling a business card from my wallet and writing my personal number on the back. "This offer expires in 24 hours. A promotion to executive assistant, triple your current salary, and all the benefits that come with being a Blackwell."

I held out the card, watching her hesitate before taking it.

"Why me?" she asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

Because you're controllable, I thought. Because you understand hierarchy and professional boundaries. Because you don't seem to be the type to cause scenes or make demands.

"You're... suitable," I said instead, keeping my true thoughts private. "Consider it carefully, Miss Lawson. Opportunities like this don't come along often."

I turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Miss Lawson? Whatever you decide, I expect to see you at the office on Monday. This conversation never happened if you choose to decline."

As I walked away, I could feel her eyes on my back. She would call, people like Evelyn Lawson always did when the price was right. It was just a matter of time.