Page 155 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

He freezes. It’s a lie, of course. My accuracy with a pistol isn’t that great. I’d have to aim for his center of mass, like they taught in training, if I want to have any chance of hitting him at all. But a bullet to the chest can be just as deadly as one to the skull.

The front door crashes open. Jake Thompson bursts in, weapon drawn, followed by three other security team members. Their eyes sweep the scene, and they see the blood and bodies scattered across my formerly pristine home.

“Sir,” Jake says, taking in my blood-soaked shirt and the gun still held in my hand. “Are you all right?”

“Took your fucking time,” I snarl, not releasing my grip.

“You dismissed us for the night, against protocol, remember?” Jake explains. “When the silent alarm triggered, we had to rush back.”

Right. I sent them away. After everything with Tatiana.

Tatiana.

“Check on Tatiana,” I order, standing. I take a step back from the closest intruder, letting my security team take over. “In the guest suite. Now.”

Jake cocks his head. “Sir?”

“The guest suite,” I repeat impatiently. “Make sure she’s safe.”

Jake exchanges a glance with one of the other security members. “Mr. Rossi, there’s no one in the guest suite.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? She’s there. I called out to her. She answered.”

Jake approaches me carefully, like I’m a wild animal. “Sir, your wife left last night. At the restaurant. She’s not here.”

I stare at him.

Left last night. At the restaurant.

The night comes rushing back. Tatiana walking out. Her face twisted with disgust and hurt. Calling off the security detail. Telling me she never wanted to see me again.

“Check the guest suite,” I say anyway, my voice hollow.

Jake nods to one of his men, who disappears down the hall. I watch, blood dripping from my side, as he opens the door to the guest suite.

Empty.

No Tatiana.

She’s gone. She was never here.

“I heard her,” I mutter. “She answered me.”

Jake doesn’t contradict me, but the pity in his eyes is worse than any argument.

I imagined it. Wanted so badly to protect her that I conjured her voice from nothing.

Or maybe it was one of the intruders and I mistook his voice for hers.

I don’t know anymore.

I stumble back against the wall, suddenly aware of the burning pain in my side. My shirt is soaked with blood, some mine, some the intruder’s. The adrenaline that carried me through the fight is fading, leaving only pain and emptiness.

“Sir, you need medical attention,” Jake says, stepping forward.

I wave him off.

“Deal with them first,” I say, gesturing to the intruders. “Find out who sent them.”

---