Page 68 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“We were.” She brushes past me toward the bedroom. “I’ll just grab what I need.”

I stand alone in her living room, feeling strangely like an intruder. My eyes track over the details of her life. A well-used coffee mug on the side table. A small collection of vintage watches displayed in a glass case. A stack of business journals next to a dog-eared copy of some romance novel.

This is Tatiana. The real Tatiana. Not the cool, efficient woman who fulfilled a contract obligation. Not the passionate creature who screamed my name two nights ago. But a person with history, with connections, with a life entirely separate from me and my world.

The realization makes me deeply uncomfortable.

“All set,” she says, emerging with a small overnight bag. She sees me studying her bookshelf and freezes. “Find anything interesting?”

“You’re a real person,” I blurt out, immediately wanting to kick myself for sounding like a complete idiot.

Her eyebrows rise. “As opposed to what? A robot?”

“No, I just...” I run a hand through my hair. “This is your life. Your real life.”

Something shifts in her expression. “Yes. The one I’ll go back to in two weeks when our marriage ends.”

Two weeks. The reminder hits like a punch to the gut. I suddenly hate the countdown, hate the clinical finality of it all.

“Ready to go?” she asks quietly.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

As she locks her apartment door behind us, I feel something fundamental changing. The lines between business and personal blurring even further.

This woman isn’t just a means to an end. She isn’t just a solution to my problem. She’s Tatiana Cole, with her books and her coffee mugs and her family photos.

And in two weeks, I’m supposed to let her walk away?

As we head back to the car, I know one thing with absolute certainty.

I’m completely fucked.

20

Tatiana

“The Modern at one o’clock,” Camilla Thorne says, her voice crisp through my phone. “Ms. Sharma specifically requested to meet you.”

It’s Saturday morning, and I wasn’t really planning on attending business meetings today.

Though I suppose I have nothing better to do. And I could use the distraction...

Still, I grip my coffee mug tighter. “And remind me why I can’t politely decline?”

“Because she’s not just any board member. Her support for the Costa Rica project is crucial.” Camilla’s sigh is audible. “This is standard vetting. The perfect wife meets the concerned investor. Simple.”

Simple. Right. Just like rocket science and brain surgery.

“I’ll be there,” I say, keeping my voice professional.

“Wear something impressive but not flashy. Conservative but confident. Sophisticated but approachable.”

I frown. “Should I also solve world hunger before dessert?”

Camilla doesn’t laugh. “This isn’t a joke, Tatiana. Dom is close to sealing the deal. Ms. Sharma is one of the last investors we need to get on board. Don’t mess this up.”

After she hangs up, I relay the lunch plans to Dom, who’s nursing his morning espresso at the kitchen island.

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