Page 177 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

By the time dessert arrives, this dark chocolate soufflé thing that we agree to share, something has definitely shifted between us. The tension is still there, but it’s different now. Charged with possibility rather than pain.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Dom says as we finish the last of the soufflé. “I still haven’t signed the annulment papers.”

“I know.” I dab my lips with my napkin. “My lawyer told me.”

“I couldn’t do it.” He meets my eyes directly. “Not without at least trying to fix what I broke.”

“And if I’d refused to see you? If I’d told you it was over for good?”

“Then I would have signed them and let you go,” he says simply. “But I had to try.”

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “I don’t want you to sign them.” The words come out in a rush. “Not yet. Maybe not at all.”

Dom freezes, his eyes widening. “Are you saying—”

“I’m saying we should try. For real this time. No contracts, no time limits, no hidden agendas. Just us.”

His hand reaches across the table, covering mine. The warmth of his palm against my skin sends electricity up my arm.

“Come home with me,” he says, his voice dropping to that deep register that always makes my insides melt. “Not for sex... unless you want that. Just to be together. To talk more. To start building something real.”

I hesitate only briefly before nodding. “Okay.”

He pays the bill despite my insistence that I’ll do it, and soon we’re in his car, Ric driving with discreet professionalism. I finally noticed the security detail earlier: Just the follow car, hanging back a respectful distance.

“You scaled back security?” I ask.

Dom purses his lips. “I’ve told them to be more discreet. I know how much you value your independence. I won’t compromise that again.”

It’s a small thing, perhaps, but it speaks volumes about his willingness to change.

When we reach his penthouse, memories wash over me. Some painful, some surprisingly sweet. The last time I was here, I was bent over his couch and hastily used for sex. He says he’s changed...

Please don’t let me be making a colossal mistake.

“Would you like a drink?” Dom asks as we enter the spacious living room.

“No, I’m good.” I’m already feeling light-headed enough from the wine at dinner and the emotional whiplash of the day.

I notice the coffee table has been replaced, presumably a casualty of the break-in and the fight that followed. There’s also a new painting on the wall. Something abstract and vibrant, full of motion and life.

“I like the new art,” I tell him, moving closer to examine it.

“I thought it was time for a change.” He comes to stand beside me, not touching but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “A fresh start.”

I turn to face him, and now we’re only inches apart. His dark eyes search mine, patient yet hungry.

“I’m scared,” I admit. “Terrified, actually.”

“Of me?” The pain in his voice is palpable.

“Of us. Of trying again and getting hurt. Of loving you so much it consumes me.”

He raises a hand slowly, giving me time to pull away, and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’m scared too,” he confesses. “But I’m more scared of losing you forever.”

And then I’m kissing him, or he’s kissing me. I’m not sure who moves first.

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