Page 12 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“We should probably rejoin our friends,” she says, but makes no move to leave.

I should let her go. One bathroom quickie is risky enough. But I can’t help myself. I pull her against me again, capturing her mouth with mine. She melts into me instantly, her arms wrapping around my neck.

A loud bang on the door makes us jump apart.

“Hey lovebirds,” Leo’s voice calls again from the other side, more urgently this time. “Either come out or we’re coming in. Marco’s getting antsy.”

Right. Marco. The whole reason we’re in Vegas. His wedding tomorrow.

We straighten ourselves as best we can and step back into the cabana. I’m not surprised to see Leo with his arm around Sabrina, who looks just as disheveled as Tatiana. Amara and Sam are in a similar state, locked in a whispered conversation in the corner.

What does surprise me is Marco leaning dangerously close to the small one, what’s her name again? Jess, that’s it. His hand is on her knee.

Fuck.

“Marco,” I call out, perhaps more sharply than intended. “We should head back to the hotel. Big day tomorrow.”

Marco glances up, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “It’s still early.”

“Exactly,” I say, moving toward him. “Which means there’s plenty of time for you to fuck up your marriage before it even starts.”

That gets his attention. He straightens, looking guilty. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“Sure you weren’t,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s get you out of here before your good intentions go to shit.”

Leo groans. “Come on Dom. We’re just getting started.” He turns his gaze back to Sabrina.

I shrug. “You’re the one who just interrupted me in the bathroom, remember?”

“Dom is right,” Tatiana interjects, “we should change. The pool’s closing soon anyway.”

It’s not true, but I shoot her a grateful look. She gets it. Marco needs to be removed from temptation.

“Fine,” Leo concedes. “But the night is young. Let’s hit the Strip.”

That seems like a safer option. Walking around might help clear our heads a bit.

Thirty minutes later, we’ve all changed and regrouped in the hotel lobby. I’m wearing a suit with no tie, the top buttons of my shirt undone because the fabric feels too restrictive against my skin. Tatiana has transformed into an alluring temptress in tight jean shorts that show off her incredible legs and a red tank top that hugs her every curve.

“You look amazing,” I tell her as she joins me.

“So do you,” she replies, her eyes raking over me appreciatively. “Very billionaire bad boy.”

I laugh. “Is that my type?”

“Oh yes,” she quips, giggling as she drapes a drunken arm around my neck.

I prop her up with my shoulder and take her hand without thinking, and she laces her fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It should feel strange. I don’t do hand-holding. I don’t do public displays of affection. But with her, with this drug still racing through my veins, it feels so right.

Jake and Ricardo, my security detail, follow at a discreet distance as our merged group spills onto the Strip. The lights of Vegas shimmer and pulse around us like a technicolor dreamscape. Tatiana gasps as we pass the Bellagio fountains, their waters dancing in perfect synchronicity.

“And I thought it was beautifulsober,” she whispers.

I laugh.

As we continue, without warning I pull her against the outdoor wall of the Cosmopolitan and kiss her deeply. Her body molds to mine instantly, her lips parting to allow my tongue entry. I can taste the sweet remnants of her cocktail, feel the softness of her skin beneath my fingers.

“Get a room,” Sam shouts, laughing.

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