Page 94 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

As she stalks away, I turn to Tatiana with newfound respect. “That was... unexpected.”

She shrugs, but I can see the satisfaction in her eyes. “I worked for Christopher for two years. I’ve dealt with women like her before.”

Christopher laughs. “Tatiana has always been formidable when provoked.”

“I’m learning that,” I say, unable to suppress a smile.

We chat for a few more minutes before Christopher and Lucy are called away to greet other guests. A waiter passes, and we take the proffered champagne glasses.

“Thank you for handling Sofiya,” I say quietly. “She can be... persistent.”

“I noticed.” Tatiana sips her champagne. “Does she show up at all your events?”

“Only the ones where she thinks she can cause maximum disruption.” I guide Tatiana toward a quieter corner of the gallery. “She didn’t take our breakup well.”

“Shocking,” Tatiana says dryly.

I laugh, surprised by how easy it feels despite everything. “The dress comment was inspired.”

“It really is a knockoff,” Tatiana says with a small smile. “I’ve cataloged enough designer pieces for Lucy Hammond to know the difference.”

I arch an eyebrow, and tease: “So Christopher has his corporate executive assistant cataloging his wife’s personal wardrobe? Tsk. Tsk. I should report him to his own board for misappropriation of funds.”

“If you saw how well those dresses perform at investor dinners, you’d classify them as business expenses, too,” Tatiana replies with a knowing smile. “The woman practically deserves her own line item in the quarterly budget.”

I chuckle. “Touché.”

As we stand there, I notice a group of women nearby, their eyes darting toward us as they whisper behind their hands. The words “Vegas” and “sudden marriage” drift to my ears.

“Looks like we’re the evening’s entertainment,” I murmur.

Tatiana follows my gaze and sighs.

“Does it bother you?” I ask suddenly. “The scrutiny?”

She considers this, her eyes thoughtful. “Not as much as I thought it would. Though I could do without your ex-girlfriend’s commentary.”

“She’s not worth your attention.”

“No,” Tatiana agrees. “She isn’t.”

There’s something about the quiet confidence in her voice that makes my chest tighten. This woman beside me, who stood her ground against Sofiya without batting an eye, who expertly navigates these social waters while maintaining her dignity, who has seen me at my most vulnerable, at my best, and at my worst... she deserves better than this temporary arrangement.

Better than me.

We stop near one of the elaborate ice sculptures, our reflections distorted in its crystalline surface. Here the bass-heavy music pulses loudly around us, creating a strange bubble of intimacy within the crowded gala. We’re standing well away from any listeners, and I signal Jake, who’s standing vigilantly nearby, to make sure no one disturbs us.

As we stand there, I notice her gaze shift subtly to a server passing with a tray of delicate pastries, her eyes following with unexpected longing.

“You haven’t eaten anything all night again, haven’t you?” I ask, suddenly realizing.

She gives me a slightly surprised look. “Events like these aren’t for eating. They’re for being seen and making connections.”

“Another one of those rules you’ve cataloged during your years with Christopher?”

“Indeed,” she confirms with mock seriousness. “Right after ‘never tell the CEO his tie is crooked’ and before ‘always have breath mints after the garlic canapés.’”

I signal to the server, who brings the tray over. “Rules are meant to be broken. Especially the silly ones.”

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