6. Tatiana
6
Tatiana
I step into the bedroom and close the door behind me, leaning against it as if it might shield me from the chaos on the other side.
My recently married boss still hasn’t answered.
“Christopher?” I try again.
The silence that follows lasts approximately three eternities.
Say something, ANYTHING. Just please don’t fire me over the phone while I’m standing here in nothing but a hotel bathrobe. That’s a story for my future therapy sessions I’d rather avoid.
“Tatiana.” His voice is measured in that perfectly controlled way that makes him such a formidable CEO. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Yes, I noticed.” I wince at how flippant that sounds. “I mean, I apologize for not responding sooner. Things have been... complicated.”
More silence. I can practically hear him choosing his words with surgical precision.
Then: “I’ve received some rather surprising news this morning.”
Surprising news? Is that what we’re calling it when your executive assistant gets plastered in Vegas and marries your billionaire best friend?
“Yes, I imagine you have.” I smooth my hand over the plush bedspread, focusing on its texture to ground myself. “I want to assure you that this situation is being addressed—”
“Are you all right?” he interrupts, concern edging into his tone.
The question catches me completely off guard. Of all the things I expected... anger, disappointment, termination... genuine concern wasn’t on the list.
“I— what?”
“Are you safe? Was this... consensual?”
My face burns so hot I’m surprised the phone doesn’t melt against my cheek. “Oh! Yes, I’m fine. Safe. It was just a... a terrible lapse in judgment. We were both... impaired.”
The air conditioner hums in the background as Christopher processes this information. I can almost see him at his desk, fingers steepled, eyes closed in concentration.
“I see.” Two syllables loaded with judgment. “And this impairment... alcohol-related?”
Great, now I have to tell my boss I was on GHB. Best day EVER. Maybe I should just start updating my LinkedIn profile while we chat.
“Partially,” I admit. “There were also... substances involved. Not our usual behavior, I assure you.”
“Substances,” he repeats flatly. “Provided by?”
“Leo Maxwell.”
Christopher sighs heavily. “Of course it was fucking Leo. That explains a great deal.”
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat, but I swallow it down. “Christopher, I want you to know that I never intended for any of this to happen. Dom and I are working to resolve it as quickly and quietly as possible.”
“I’ve already spoken with Arthur Sterling.”
My stomach drops. “You have?” Oh wait, I think I remember Arthur saying something about contacting my boss... I just have no idea what he told him.
“Yes. He called me before boarding the plane. I’m aware of the... complications regarding Dom’s Costa Rica project.”
I sink onto the edge of the bed. “Then you know they want us to stay married. For thirty days.”
“Thirty days? That’s a lot better. He originally floated out six months to me.” Another pause. “In any case, that brings me to the reason for my call.”
Here it comes. The termination speech. ‘We appreciate your service, but unfortunately your accidental marriage to my best friend represents an insurmountable conflict of interest, so please kindly go jump off the nearest bridge, and don’t forget to slit your wrists on the way down, just in case...’
I straighten my spine, preparing for the blow. “Yes?”
“This creates a rather delicate situation at the office.”
I close my eyes, blinking away the tears. “I understand completely. I’ll have my resignation letter sent to your office by tomorrow morning. Thank you so much for hiring—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tatiana,” he interrupts. “Do you have any idea how long it would take me to train a replacement who meets my standards?”
My eyes fly open, and I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “So... I’m not fired?”
“No, you’re not fired.” There’s a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Though obviously we’ll need to implement certain protocols.”
“Protocols?” I echo.
“Confidentiality agreements. Recusal procedures for any matters involving Dom’s businesses. You’ll need to be particularly meticulous about maintaining separation between your professional duties and your... marital situation.”
Marital situation. Like it’s a minor inconvenience rather than a life-altering catastrophe.
“I can do that,” I say quickly. “Absolutely.”
“And I expect you back in the office as soon as possible. We still have the Singapore contracts to finalize.”
“Understood.” I pick at a loose thread on the bathrobe. “Christopher, I really am sorry about all this.”
There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice has lost some of its edge. “These things happen.”
I nearly choke. “Accidental Vegas marriages happen?”
“Well, no,” he concedes. “But Leo Maxwell-induced catastrophes certainly do. I once found myself on a cargo ship to Montevideo after a night out with him.”
My mouth falls open. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I were. Don’t tell Dom I told you that.”
For the first time since waking up married, I laugh. A real laugh, not the hysterical kind threatening to bubble up all morning.
“I should go,” Christopher says, back to business. “The Mendoza call is in twenty minutes. I’ll see you soon.”
“Soon,” I confirm, still stunned that I have a job to return to.
The call ends, and I stare at my phone in disbelief. Not fired. Still going to be working for Christopher. With rules and protocols, but still employed.
Well, at least the situation isn’t entirely unsalvageable.
Not yet, anyway.