Page 131 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

I follow him, dropping my clutch on the console table with more force than necessary.

“We need to talk,” I say firmly, “And don’t give me some bullshit about having work to do.”

He pauses, crystal decanter halfway to a tumbler.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, setting both down. “Talk.”

I study him a moment. “Dom. I’m tired of this hot-cold routine.”

His jaw tightens. “We had this discussion in the car, earlier...”

“No, westarteda discussion that you conveniently shut down.” I move closer, not letting him retreat this time. “And now we’re going to finish it.”

For a second I think he’s going to argue. Instead, he gestures toward the living room. “After you.”

We sit on opposite ends of his ridiculously large designer couch. The distance between us feels both too small and impossibly vast.

I take a deep breath. No more dancing around this. “Earlier tonight, you told me I was worth a hundred of Rylan. You defended me. Protected me. But the minute we left the event, you pulled away again.” My hands grip my knees to stop them from shaking. “I need to know what that means, Dom. What any of this means. Is it really just all forshow?All of it?”

“The deal closes in two days, Tatiana,” he says, staring out the window. “None of this will matter then.”

“It matters now.” My voice is stronger than I feel. “It matters tome.”

The air between us feels charged, like right before a thunderstorm breaks. My palms are sweaty, and I resist the urge to wipe them on my pants.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, his voice low.

“I want you to tell me if any of this was real. The way you look at me sometimes, the way you touch me...” I pause, take a breath. “It doesn’t feel like just sex or convenience or whatever this marriage was supposed to be.”

Great job, Tatiana. Nothing says ‘strong independent woman’ like begging for emotional validation from your temporary husband. Gold star.

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I’ve come to recognize as a sign of his frustration. “It’s complicated.”

“No shit.” I lean forward. “You said it yourself, we have two days left. Two, and then we sign those papers and pretend none of this ever happened. I think I deserve some honesty before we get there.”

And maybe, just maybe, a reason not to sign them at all.

“What exactly do you want to know?” he deflects carefully.

I smile patiently. “I already told. I’ll say it again. What isthisbetween us?” The question comes out softer than I intended. More vulnerable.

He studies me for a long moment, and I fight the urge to squirm under his intense gaze. But he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even try to skirt the question this time. He just says... nothing.

I fold my hands in my lap. “Okay, let’s start with this. You told me I was worth ten of him. A hundred.” I swallow hard. “Did you mean it, or was that just part of the act?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. He starts blinking rapidly, and looks away. But again, he doesn’t answer.

And then, he does.

And it changes everything.

“I meant it.”

The simple admission sends a rush of warmth through me, quickly followed by uncertainty.

“Then why push me away?” I ask. “I know this whole situation is temporary, but what happens between us in private doesn’t feel fake, Dom. And pretending it is hurts. I mean, really fucking hurts.”

God, I sound pathetic. Like a desperate woman clinging to scraps of affection.

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