Page 132 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says quietly. There’s something unspoken in his eyes, like he’s been holding onto something for far too long.

“Not an answer.”

He stands abruptly, and begins pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the Manhattan skyline. The city lights create a halo effect around his silhouette.

“You’ve become... important... to me,” he says finally, his back still turned. “More than I expected. More than I planned for.”

My heart skips a beat, but I force myself to stay seated, to not read too much into his words. “And that scares you.”

He turns to face me. “Yes.”

The honesty startles me. Dom Rossi doesn’t admit to fear. He bulldozes through obstacles, demanding and taking what he wants.

“Why?” I press. “I’m not asking for forever, Dom. I’m just asking for honesty about what this is. Why does it scare you that I’ve become... important?”

“Because this situation is more complicated than just business now,” he admits, moving closer. “And I don’t do complicated. Not with relationships.”

I stand up, needing to be on equal footing for this conversation. “Wow, that’s rich coming from a man who drunkenly married a stranger in Vegas.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly. “Fair point.”

“I’m not trying to trap you into anything, Dom,” I say, softening my tone. “I know the annulment happens in two days. I know that was the deal. I’m just trying to understand what’s happening here because my feelings are getting... tangled.”

Understatement of the century. They’re not tangled; they’re a complete disaster.

He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his intoxicating sandalwood and leather cologne. My body betrays me, responding to his proximity like it always does.

“Mine too,” he admits so quietly I almost miss it.

I look up at him, searching his face for any sign that he’s playing me, that this is just another manipulation. All I see is conflict, and something that looks dangerously like desire.

“So what do we do about it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze drops to my lips. “I... don’t know.”

Liar. You want me as much as I want you.

“The clock is ticking, Dom,” I remind him. “So two days from now we just walk away and pretend none of this happened? That we don’t feel anything?”

He reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face with unexpected gentleness. “Would that be so bad? A clean break?”

The question stings more than it should. “Is that what you want? A clean break?”

His hand cups my cheek, and I hate myself a little for leaning into his touch. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Itdoes,” I insist. “It matters tome.”

Something dark flashes in his eyes. “Tatiana...”

“Just tell me one thing,” I say, forcing myself to maintain eye contact despite the tears threatening to form. “Was any of it real? Any of it at all?”

The silence stretches between us, taut and fragile. I can hear my own heartbeat, too fast, too loud.

“I’ve already told you the answer to that...” he replies.

“Then I want to hear it again,” I tell him. “Please.”

“Yes,” he finally says. His thumb traces my lower lip, sending shivers down my spine. “More than I want to admit.”

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