Page 130 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

As we cross the room toward Christopher and Lucy, I catch sight of Rylan Mitchell again. He’s watching Tatiana with an expression I recognize all too well.

Hunger.

Yes, I can almost see him assessing her value now that she wears my ring, now that she stands beside a man with billions instead of the mid-level marketing hack he apparently is.

I know exactly what he’s thinking. That maybe he can worm his way back into her life. That maybe he can leverage their history to get close to her resources. To me. Perhaps hoping he might be able to fuck her somewhere along the way.

Pathetic bastard.

I place my hand on the small of Tatiana’s back once more, the gesture no longer just for show. It’s a statement. A warning to the man watching us.

Mine.

For now, at least.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

In two days, I’ll be signing away any claim to this incredible woman.

Worse, I’ve agreed to introduce her to my manipulative brother.

What kind of fucking monster am I?

What kind ofcoward?

But for today, in this moment, I can protect her from one ghost from her past. I can be the shield between her and the man who hurt her so deeply.

It’s not enough. It doesn’t begin to make up for what I’ve done, what I’m about to do.

But it’s all I have to offer right now.

I just wish someone would protect me from my own ghosts.

Two days.

Then I lose her, too.

34

Tatiana

The ride back to the penthouse is excruciating. Dom stares out the window, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack walnuts, while I pretend to be fascinated by the passing streetlights. The silence between us feels like a third passenger, taking up all the oxygen in the backseat.

Ric catches my eye in the rearview mirror and quickly looks away. Poor guy probably wishes he’d called in sick today. The tension in this car is thick enough to cut with a knife and serve on fancy crackers.

Neither of us says a word. What would be the point? Dom’s clearly in one of his moods, withdrawing into that fortress he calls a mind, where mere mortals like me aren’t allowed. He’s either pissed off at Rylan for existing, or pissed off at me. For the same reason.

When we arrive, the elevator ride is somehow worse. Just the two of us in a small box, ascending twenty floors at what feels like a glacial pace. I steal a glance at his reflection in the polished doors. He looks exhausted, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced than usual.

Two days. And then back to being just... me.

Without Dom.

When the elevator finally opens, we walk to the penthouse door. Dom swipes his key card and we go inside.

The door shuts behind us and he loosens his tie with a practiced motion.

“I need a drink,” he mutters, heading straight for the bar cart in the living room.

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