Page 57 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“Ah,” Christopher says knowingly. “Yes. Sorry I couldn’t make it. Lucy maintenance. How did it go?”

“About as well as expected. They think the whole thing is hilarious. Especially Leo.” I stare out at the passing city lights. “They keep calling her ‘my secretary,’ like she’s some kind of trophy I picked up.”

“That bothers you.”

It’s not a question.

“Of course it bothers me,” I snap. “She deserves more respect than that.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“Dom,” Christopher says finally, his voice cautious, “you remember this is...temporary... right? In two weeks, after the resort funding closes, you’ll go your separate ways. As agreed.”

The reminder hits me like a punch to the gut. Of course I know it’s temporary. That was the whole point. Thirty days, then an annulment. Clean, simple, back to normal.

So why does the thought suddenly make me uneasy?

“I know,” I reply, my voice rougher than intended. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good,” Christopher says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “Because I’d hate to see either of you get hurt when this ends.”

I laugh, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “Nobody’s getting hurt. It’s a business arrangement, nothing more.”

“So you say...” Christopher replies. “But I’ve noticed you getting rather defensive about her tonight.”

“Just tired of people reducing her to ‘my secretary,’” I mutter. “She deserves better than that.”

There’s a pause on Christopher’s end.

“Interesting,” he finally says.

“What’s interesting?”

“That’s exactly my point, Dom. You care about how people see her. That’s not typically how you approach business arrangements.”

I don’t have a good response to that.

“Anyway,” Christopher continues, “I should let you go. Early meeting tomorrow.”

“Yeah, me too,” I reply, grateful for the out.

The call ends, leaving me alone with thoughts I don’t want to examine. As the car glides through the nighttime streets of Manhattan, I find myself wondering what Tatiana is doing right now. Is she reviewing documents in her perfectly organized workspace? Is she sleeping peacefully in the guest suite? Or is she counting down the days until she’s free of me and this fucked-up situation?

Well, one thing’s for certain.

Something is definitely changing.

The lines are blurring in ways I never anticipated.

And I’m no longer sure that’s entirely a bad thing.

Now, I just need to figure out a way to survive fucking Day 14 without throwing away everything I’ve worked so hard for.

17

Tatiana

I’m starting to think there’s a mathematical formula for how quickly time passes when you’re legally bound to a billionaire. The busier you stay, the faster the days blur together.

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