Page 49 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“The Puligny-Montrachet is breathing, as you requested.” He gestures to the decanter on the sideboard. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, thank you. You can leave the rest on the warming trays.”

As Antoine disappears into the kitchen, I check my watch. Seven fifty-five. Tatiana will likely be punctual. She usually operates like a Swiss timepiece, predictable and precise in her movements.

Unlike the chaos I deliberately created for her this morning.

I smile, recalling how I scattered blueprints across her meticulously organized desk before leaving for work, without her knowing about it. A childish move, but I couldn’t resist disrupting her perfect order. There’s something about her rigid organization that both impresses and irritates me. Everything aligned at perfect angles, not a paper clip out of place.

When I returned home, I found the blueprints meticulously reorganized, each corner aligned with geometric precision. She fixed my deliberate mess with a Post-It note that read: “Please don’t use my desk as a dumping ground for your architectural blueprints.” Which somehow made it even more satisfying.

Small victories.

I pour myself a glass of scotch, wondering why I feel compelled to provoke her. Maybe it’s the distance she maintains, the clinical way she fulfilled our first clause obligation. Maybe it’s seeing her competence in handling the supplier call. Or maybe I’m just a fucking child who can’t handle someone else’s control in my space.

The sound of a door opening draws my attention. Tatiana emerges from the guest suite, dressed in one of her new power suits, this one in a deep navy that highlights the elegant curves of her figure.

Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in the elaborate table setting, the candles, the carefully plated food.

“I thought we were just having a business dinner,” she says, approaching cautiously.

“We are.” I pull out her chair. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t eat well. Antoine outdid himself tonight.”

She hesitates before taking her seat. “Your personal chef prepared all this? For a business meeting?”

“Antoine prepares all my meals when I’m home.” I shrug, taking the chair opposite her. “One of the perks of this arrangement, for you.”

“Along with the security detail following me everywhere and...” She lowers her voice, not wanting Antoine to hear. “The contractual sexual obligations?” Her voice is smooth but carries an edge. Louder: “Such perks.”

I laugh despite myself. “The food is the only perk I’m offering tonight. Investor strategies, remember?”

She glances at the scallops, her expression softening slightly. “It does look amazing.”

“Try it before making your final assessment.”

She takes a careful bite, and I watch with satisfaction as appreciation flickers across her face.

“It is amazing,” she admits.

“Antoine trained in Paris before working for several heads of state. I stole him from the French ambassador three years ago.”

As I reach across to pour her wine, I notice something gleaming on her wrist. A watch I haven’t seen before.

“That’s new,” I say, nodding toward the Cartier Tank on her wrist. “Good choice. Classic design.”

She glances down at it, a subtle hint of pride crossing her face. “I decided to invest in something timeless.”

“It suits you,” I tell her, genuinely appreciating both the watch and what it represents... her taking ownership of this strange situation we’re in. I respect that she’s using the advance to build something for herself, not just playing the role of billionaire’s wife.

“Thank you,” she replies, her fingers brushing over the face briefly before returning to her portfolio.

“You’re welcome.” I study her a moment. “Now, the contractor proposals. What did you think?”

She takes a sip of wine, then reaches for her ever-present portfolio. “Overall, they’re solid, but I have concerns about the material sourcing claims for the main structure. The sustainability metrics seem overstated.”

“You caught that, too?” I’m genuinely impressed. “I had the same concern.”

“I also think their timeline is unrealistic given the seasonal rainfall patterns in that region of Costa Rica.”

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