The CEO's 30-Day Contract Wife

The Almost

Recap in two lines. This morning Olivia saved Ethan's job with a Queens idea and his father gave her seven days to earn ten million dollars.

Now at six in evening the team celebrates her win with cheap champagne and she is a little drunk and brave.

Olivia had never been drunk in an office before.

She sat on edge of conference table on fifty eighth floor, black dress simple, shoes off, holding plastic cup of champagne Rosa smuggled up, giggling at Mia on video call. Cheeks pink, eyes bright.

You did it Livvy, Mia shouted from phone, loud and proud. You told rich old men Queens matters, I am so proud.

He already pays me one hundred thousand dollars to be his wife, Olivia giggled, then covered mouth. Oops walls have ears.

Ethan stood at glass wall far end, suit jacket off, tie loose, sleeves rolled, watching her, not drinking, just watching her laugh, eyes dark and jealous.

Mr Lawson from marketing approached her, young and handsome and single, holding champagne, smiling too wide.

Olivia, that pitch was genius, truly genius, you have guts, we should have dinner to brainstorm more, just you and me, I know great place in Queens.

Olivia smiled politely, a little dizzy.

That would be nice, maybe next week.

Ethan moved from glass wall so fast chair scraped loud.

Olivia, he said voice low but clear across room, meeting over, everyone out, now.

Lawson jumped. Oh Mister Blackwood, we were just celebrating.

I heard, Ethan said eyes cold on Lawson. Dinner is not needed. Her husband will take her home now because she has had enough champagne.

He walked to table, took Olivia's cup from her hand, set it down, took her shoes from floor, and took her hand, pulling her gently off table.

Come, he whispered close to her ear, breath warm, you are drunk and beautiful and every man in office is staring at my wife, and I do not like it.

I am not drunk, Olivia whispered, wobbling on bare feet, holding his arm for balance, I am just happy, we won today.

You won today, he corrected quietly, leading her toward elevator, hand tight around hers, possessive and proud. You won. I just watched.

They reached glass elevator that goes down fifty eight floors, private elevator for chief executive officer. Ethan pressed button, doors opened, he pulled her inside, pressed lobby, doors started to close.

Wait, Olivia said turning, shoes in his hand, feet bare. We forgot to say bye to team, rude.

They will survive, Ethan said eyes on her bare feet, then on pink cheeks, then on lips shiny from champagne.

Doors closed. Elevator started moving down, smooth and silent, city lights flashing outside glass.

Small space. Just two of them. Smell of his cologne and her cheap champagne.

Olivia leaned against glass wall for balance, giggling, looking up at him, tie loose, sleeves rolled, hair messy.

Why are you looking at me like that, she asked, voice soft and slurred, brave because champagne made her brave.

Like what, he asked, voice low, eyes dark, standing very close, not touching yet, hands holding her shoes tight.

Like you want to eat me, she whispered, then gasped covering mouth, eyes wide. I did not mean eat, I meant you look hungry, no you look angry.

I look at my wife who just saved my company while drunk on cheap champagne and barefoot in my elevator and who told another man she would have dinner with him, he said quietly, stepping closer, until chest almost touched hers.

I did not say dinner, Olivia said quickly, breath fast, I said maybe brainstorming, it is work, not date.

Dinner with single man who smiles at you like you are dessert is a date, Olivia, he said, voice rough and low, jealousy clear and hot now. And you are my wife, even if contract says thirty days, you are my wife tonight, and I do not share my wife.

You are jealous, she whispered, eyes bright.

Yes, he said simply. I am jealous of Lawson. I am jealous of Jake. I am jealous of every man in Queens who knew you before me. I am jealous and possessive and I know it breaks rule number one but I do not care.

Silence in elevator, only soft hum of machine moving down, forty fifth floor now.

Olivia stared up at him, heart pounding, champagne making her bold, his jealousy making her feel wanted for first time not for money but for herself.

Then do something about it, she whispered, voice barely breath, hands moving to his loose tie, pulling him closer.

Ethan's breath caught. His eyes dropped to her lips.

Olivia, he warned, voice shaking, hands still holding her shoes tight. Do not tempt me. You are drunk.

I know exactly what I am saying, she said, still holding his tie, standing on tiptoes, bare feet cold, face close to his, champagne on breath sweet. I am saying kiss me, Ethan Blackwood, break rule number two, I dare you.

He stared at her, at fierce brave eyes, at lips so close, and every wall he built since Sophia died cracked.

Forty seconds to lobby.

He dropped her shoes. Loud thud on floor.

His hands came up, one to waist, pulling her hard against him, other to jaw, tilting face up, possessive and gentle.

You have no idea what you do to me, he whispered, forehead touching hers, breath fast, lips hovering over hers, almost touching, not touching. Since you walked into my office with coffee on my shirt and told me you would never beg any man for money and then begged me for eighty seven thousand dollars, you ruined me, Olivia.

Then ruin me back, she whispered, eyes closing, lips parting.

Elevator dinged for thirtieth floor, jolted slightly, lights flickered.

He kissed her. Not soft. Not sweet. Hard and desperate and hungry, against glass wall, body pressing hers, one hand in hair, other on waist holding her up as knees went weak, bare feet lifting, hands clutching his shirt, kissing him back like she had waited twelve days and whole life, champagne forgotten, board forgotten, only his mouth and her mouth and loneliness breaking.

Then elevator jolted hard and stopped between floors, lights went out, emergency light red and dim came on, elevator stuck.

They broke apart, breathing hard, lips swollen, foreheads touching, both shocked.

What happened, Olivia whispered, dizzy, lips tingling, hands still clutching his shirt.

Power cut, Ethan whispered, voice rough, trying to press buttons, no light, elevator not moving, stuck between thirtieth and twenty ninth floor, hand still on waist tight.

He pressed intercom. No answer. Pressed phone. No signal.

We are stuck, he said, looking down at her, black dress wrinkled, shoes on floor, hair messy, lips red.

You kissed me, she whispered, eyes wide, sober now in dark.

You told me to, he whispered back, eyes dark and wild.

You stopped, she said, touching lips with shaking fingers. Why did you stop.

Because if I do not stop now, he said, voice low and broken, pressing forehead to hers, holding her tight in dark stuck elevator, city lights blinking outside, I will make love to my thirty day contract wife in this elevator and I will not be able to let her go after thirty days.

Before she could answer, intercom crackled loud and a cold voice that was not security spoke.

Mister Blackwood, your father wants to see you and your little Queens wife right now. We have cut power. We have your mother in Queens hospital. If you do not come to his office alone tonight with Sophia's ring, she will not get her medicine. Elevator will stay locked until you agree.

Olivia gasped, clutching Ethan, barefoot and terrified in dark, and whispered one question that made his blood freeze.

Ethan, how does your father know we kissed and how does he have my mother.