Page 22 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

I meet his gaze steadily. “I have no idea. But unlike some people in this room, I actually work for a living. And right now, my boss is calling.”

The words come out harsher than intended, but I don’t apologize. Instead, I walk toward the bedroom, phone in hand and heart hammering.

Deep breath, Tatiana. One crisis at a time.

I answer the call. “Hello, Christopher.”

6

Tatiana

Istep into the bedroom and close the door behind me, leaning against it as if it might shield me from the chaos on the other side.

My recently married boss still hasn’t answered.

“Christopher?” I try again.

The silence that follows lasts approximately three eternities.

Say something, ANYTHING. Just please don’t fire me over the phone while I’m standing here in nothing but a hotel bathrobe. That’s a story for my future therapy sessions I’d rather avoid.

“Tatiana.” His voice is measured in that perfectly controlled way that makes him such a formidable CEO. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Yes, I noticed.” I wince at how flippant that sounds. “I mean, I apologize for not responding sooner. Things have been... complicated.”

More silence. I can practically hear him choosing his words with surgical precision.

Then: “I’ve received some rather surprising news this morning.”

Surprising news? Is that what we’re calling it when your executive assistant gets plastered in Vegas and marries your billionaire best friend?

“Yes, I imagine you have.” I smooth my hand over the plush bedspread, focusing on its texture to ground myself. “I want to assure you that this situation is being addressed—”

“Are you all right?” he interrupts, concern edging into his tone.

The question catches me completely off guard. Of all the things I expected... anger, disappointment, termination... genuine concern wasn’t on the list.

“I— what?”

“Are you safe? Was this... consensual?”

My face burns so hot I’m surprised the phone doesn’t melt against my cheek. “Oh! Yes, I’m fine. Safe. It was just a... a terrible lapse in judgment. We were both... impaired.”

The air conditioner hums in the background as Christopher processes this information. I can almost see him at his desk, fingers steepled, eyes closed in concentration.

“I see.” Two syllables loaded with judgment. “And this impairment... alcohol-related?”

Great, now I have to tell my boss I was on GHB. Best day EVER. Maybe I should just start updating my LinkedIn profile while we chat.

“Partially,” I admit. “There were also... substances involved. Not our usual behavior, I assure you.”

“Substances,” he repeats flatly. “Provided by?”

“Leo Maxwell.”

Christopher sighs heavily. “Of course it was fucking Leo. That explains a great deal.”

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat, but I swallow it down. “Christopher, I want you to know that I never intended for any of this to happen. Dom and I are working to resolve it as quickly and quietly as possible.”

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