Page 100 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“Meeting with investors about the final funding round. He’s dealing with some... family issues as well.”

Probably Nico. The brother who claimed Dom stole his resort concept.

I make a decision. “Jake, I need a car and a security detail in thirty minutes.”

“May I ask where you’re going, Mrs. Rossi?”

“To save the resort project.”

Two hoursand one frantic research session later, I’m sitting across from Elena Valdez, the founder of GreenFrame Builders, a smaller but promising sustainable materials company based in Brooklyn. My personal security detail, Nichols and Franks this time, wait discreetly near the entrance to her industrial-chic office space.

The giant windows behind her offer a view of the Manhattan skyline across the water. The lights are starting to twinkle on as dusk settles over the city.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me on such short notice,” I tell her, smoothing my skirt. “And for staying late for me.”

“For someone of your reputation, we’re happy to stay open late,” Elena replies.

My reputation. Right.I suppress a snort.More like Dom’s bank account and last name that I’m temporarily borrowing.

I dive into my presentation.

Afterward, Elena studies the numbers I’ve presented with careful attention. Her glasses slide slightly down her nose as she squints at my projections, and I resist the urge to fidget. Instead, I maintain what I hope is a confident, professional expression. The same one I’ve perfected over years of sitting in on Christopher’s meetings.

“This is an aggressive timeline,” she says finally, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“But doable,” I counter. “Your production capacity exceeds your current contracts by almost forty percent. I’ve reviewed your last three quarterly reports.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Already? I thought you only found out about us today.”

I smile. “I’m quick. And thorough.”

“Clearly.” She leans back in her chair. “Why isn’t Dominic Rossi here himself?”

“Mr. Rossi is handling final investment negotiations. I’ve been authorized to solve the supply chain issue.” The lie rolls off my tongue smoothly.

Authorized by myself, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“The bamboo quality you’re requesting is premium grade,” Elena continues. “We’d need to pull resources from other projects.”

“Which is why we’re prepared to offer a twenty percent premium over our original contract with Eco-Source,” I say confidently, even though I have no actual authority to make this offer. “Plus, the publicity of being associated with Serenity Shores would position GreenFrame as a leader in luxury sustainable development.”

Elena’s eyes narrow. “Twenty-five percent and prominent placement in all marketing materials.”

“Twenty-two percent and placement in marketing materials, subject to final approval from our team.”

We stare at each other across the reclaimed wood table.

“Deal,” she says finally, extending her hand.

I shake it, relief flooding through me. “I’ll have the contracts drafted tomorrow.”

As we work out the preliminary details, my phone buzzes. Dom. I send it to voicemail, focusing on finalizing the agreement with Elena.

By the time I leave GreenFrame’s offices, it’s past nine, and my phone shows six missed calls from Dom. I take a deep breath and call him back from the car.

“You went to GreenFrame without telling me?” he says instead of hello, his voice an odd mixture of irritation and something else I can’t quite place.

Of course Jake tattled. What did you expect, Tatiana? That’s literally his job.

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