Page 120 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“You know exactly what.” He’s close now, close enough that I can smell his hot cologne. “What the hell were you thinking, challenging me like that in front of Eleanor?”

“I was thinking that your revisions to my plan were inefficient and unnecessary,” I reply, standing my ground despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “And that I’m tired of being dismissed whenever I have a valid point to make.”

His eyes darken. “This isn’t about the fucking project.”

“Maybe not entirely,” I admit. “But that doesn’t make my concerns any less valid.”

“You wanted my attention, is that it?” The question is quiet, dangerous. “Well you have it. So I ask again. And I want the truth this time: What thefuckwas that call today?”

The air between us crackles, fraught with tension. We’re standing in the hallway, neither advancing nor retreating, locked in some silent battle of wills.

“That call,” I say slowly, “was me refusing to be ignored or pushed aside just because you’ve decided to go back to being an emotionless robot.”

“Emotionless robot,” he repeats, taking another step closer. “Is that what you think?”

“What else am I supposed to think? One minute you’re asking me to stay by your side when you’re sick, the next you’re taking calls from your ex right in front of me and criticizing my work without valid reason.”

His jaw tightens. “I had valid reasons.”

“No, you had control issues,” I counter. “There’s a difference.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, along with frustration and something else I can’t quite name. Before I can react, he’s backing me against the wall, one hand braced beside my head.

“Controlissues?” he says, his voice dangerously soft. “You want to seecontrolissues?”

“Yes,” I whisper, but it’s not loud enough for him to hear. My heart hammers against my ribs. This close, I can see the faint stubble along his jaw, smell the coffee on his breath, feel the heat radiating from his body.

“What was that?” he asks. “I didn’t hear you.” But before I can answer, he’s already adding, “You deliberately provoked me today. Why?”

I swallow hard, torn between defiance and desire. “Maybe I wanted to see if you still cared enough to get angry.”

His eyes narrow. “Is that what this is about? You think I don’t care?”

“You’ve made it pretty clear, Dom.”

He leans closer, his lips inches from mine. “Have I?”

And then his mouth is on mine, hot and demanding. There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s all claiming, consuming, punishing. His hand tangles in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me gasp.

I should push him away. I should maintain whatever shred of dignity I have left.

Instead, I kiss him back just as fiercely, pouring all my frustration and confusion into it.

He breaks away suddenly, his breathing ragged. “You want to challenge me, Tatiana? Fine. But there are consequences.”

“We shouldn’t do this,” I tell him. “We’re just making this harder.”

“I agree,” he responds, but that doesn’t change the hunger in his eyes. He’s like a predator. A wolf sighting a sheep.

Before I can process what’s happening, he’s leading me into his office, his grip on my wrist firm but not painful. He closes the door behind us with a decisive click.

“Bend over the desk,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Heat floods my body, pooling low in my abdomen. “What?”

“You heard me.” His eyes are dark with desire and determination. “Consider it a lesson in respecting the chain of command.”

I should laugh in his face. I should walk away.

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