Page 86 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“Fine,” she says. “Keep your secrets.”

She takes another sip. Her eyes drift down my body, lingering for a moment at my crotch before darting back up to my face.

The look is unmistakable, laden with the same heat from our contractual encounters. But this time there’s no clause to fulfill, no obligation. Just desire, raw and unguarded. For a moment, I wonder if she’s imagining dropping to her knees right here in my kitchen, taking me in her mouth like she did twice before, except this time because she wants to, not because a contract dictates it.

My body responds immediately to the thought, and I shift my stance to hide it. But something else stirs too, something that feels dangerously close to hope. Like maybe she feels this, too, this inconvenient connection that’s growing stronger despite all my efforts to contain it.

And that’s precisely why I have to shut it down.

Ten days. Just ten fucking days left, and I’m considering complicating everything? After the kiss that already blurred too many lines? After her performance tonight that made me actually consider, for one insane moment, what it might be like if this were real?

No. I’ve worked too hard, risked too much for this deal. I will not jeopardize it by giving in to whatever this is. If I start something now, who knows where it ends? With messy emotions, recriminations, and complications we don’t need.

Tatiana takes a step closer, her eyes questioning. “Dom?”

I straighten up, deliberately adopting the cool, professional demeanor I use in boardrooms. “It’s late. I should check my emails before bed.”

The change in tone is like flipping a switch. I watch confusion and then hurt flash across her face before she schools her expression into something equally professional.

“Of course,” she says, her voice suddenly as cool as mine. “Far be it from me to keep the important Dominic Rossi from his work.”

I deserve that, but I still feel a flare of irritation. “Look, we both knew what this was from the beginning. A business arrangement with a clear endpoint. Ten days from now, we go our separate ways. Getting... distracted... now would be unproductive.”

“Unproductive,” she repeats, the word flat. “God forbid anything unproductive ever happen in this goddamn penthouse.”

“Tatiana.”

“No, you’re right,” she says with a sigh, setting her glass down with a sharp click against the counter. “I just thought... after tonight... after how well we worked together...”

She trails off, and I feel like the biggest asshole in New York. But I can’t let myself soften, can’t let her see how much effort it’s taking to maintain this distance.

“We worked together admirably to achieve a business goal,” I say. “That’s all it was. An excellent performance.”

She flinches slightly, and I hate myself a little more. But it’s necessary. Better a small hurt now than something more devastating later. I’m not built for what she deserves. My brother’s scarred face and my own guilt-ridden past are proof enough of that.

“Right,” she says finally. “Just a performance.”

I grab my phone from my pocket, the movement deliberate, a physical manifestation of the barrier I’m erecting between us. “I need to handle these emails. Don’t wait up.”

I turn away before I can see her reaction, focusing intently on my phone screen as I walk out of the kitchen. It takes every ounce of willpower not to look back, not to apologize, not to cross the room and kiss her until we both forget about business arrangements and ten-day deadlines.

But I keep walking, my feet carrying me to my office where I shut the door firmly behind me. Only then do I allow myself to lean against it, eyes closed, breathing ragged.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

This is for the best, I tell myself. Soon, the deal will close. And in ten days, Tatiana will get her settlement, I’ll get my resort, and we’ll both move on with our lives.

No complications, no messy emotions, no vulnerability.

Just business. Clean, controlled, predictable business.

So why does it feel like I’m making the biggest mistake of my life?

Like in this one moment, right here and now, I could change everything if I wanted to. Like I could be the happiest man in the world if only I just turned around, went back to the kitchen, and lifted her into my arms.

I reach for the handle, and open the door a crack...

But something stops me. A single word forms in my mind.

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