9. Dominic
9
Dominic
I watch Tatiana as she examines herself in the mirror, adjusting the silky navy dress that hugs her curves in all the right places. It’s one of the better fits from the collection the hotel concierge rushed up, and she knows it.
“You look presentable,” I say, keeping my voice neutral despite the way my body reacts to seeing her in that dress.
She turns, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. “Presentable? Is that the best you can do, Rossi?”
“Would you prefer I tell you that dress makes me want to bend you over the nearest surface?”
Her cheeks flush, but she holds my gaze. “Save it for Days Two and Fourteen, per our agreement.”
Touché . The woman gives as good as she gets.
“Jake will take you to collect your things,” I say, changing the subject. “He’s waiting outside.”
“Your head of security, right?” she asks, slipping on a pair of heels. “The large, intimidating one who looks like he eats nails for breakfast?”
“That’s him. Best in the business.”
She nods, grabbing the small clutch purse the concierge included with the dress. “Once we’re through the paparazzi, and at my hotel, I get to tell my friends what’s happening myself. No security goons are coming inside with me.”
“That’s fine,” I tell her. “And they’re your friends. Handle them however you want. Just make sure they understand the stakes.”
She nods, her expression turning serious. “They will. They’re not idiots.”
Unlike us , hangs unspoken in the air between us.
I walk her to the door where Jake waits, his massive frame blocking the hallway like a human barricade. He nods respectfully as Tatiana approaches.
“Mrs. Rossi,” he says. “I’ll be escorting you to retrieve your belongings.”
Mrs. Rossi... I’m not sure how hearing her called that makes me feel.
“Thank you, Jake,” she says, and I notice how she stands a little straighter, projecting confidence despite being completely out of her depth. “I won’t be long.”
I catch Jake’s eye. “Twenty minutes, then bring her back. I still have to show my face at Marco’s reception.”
“Yes, sir,” Jake says. No questions, no hesitation. That’s why I keep him around.
As they walk down the hallway, I hear Tatiana asking Jake something about his background. She’s gathering information, figuring out who she can trust in my orbit.
Smart woman.
When the elevator doors close behind them, I turn back to the suite where Arthur is finalizing our agreement.
“Is it done?” I ask.
Arthur looks up from his laptop. “Just making the last changes now. The settlement amount has been adjusted as requested, and I’ve added language about work scheduling priorities.”
“And the advance?”
“Already initiated. It should hit her account before you board the plane.”
I nod, satisfied. “Good.”
“May I speak freely, Mr. Rossi?” Arthur asks, his tone careful.
“When have you ever not?”
He closes his laptop. “This agreement...” He shakes his head. “Are you absolutely certain this is how you want to proceed?”
“What’s the alternative? Let the deal collapse? Watch years of work go down the drain because I got too fucked up in Vegas and married my best friend’s assistant?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I run a hand through my hair. “The clause?”
He nods. “It’s... problematic.”
I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “The whole situation is problematic.”
“Ms. Cole agreed rather quickly.”
“Does that surprise you? She doubled her money.”
Arthur gives me a look I can’t quite interpret. “I think there’s more to it than that.”
I don’t want to examine his meaning too closely. The truth is, I’m surprised Tatiana agreed to the clause at all. Part of me expected her to throw the tablet at my head. The fact that she countered with a higher price instead has been occupying my thoughts more than it should.
“Five hundred thousand is nothing compared to what I’ll lose if this deal falls through,” I say dismissively.
But we both know that’s not the whole story. There’s something about Tatiana Cole that gets under my skin. Something in the way she held her ground during negotiations, refusing to be intimidated. Most people fold under pressure when dealing with me. She doubled down. Stood the fuck up to me. Challenged me.
And agreed to suck my cock.
“Of course, sir. But...” He adjusts his tie nervously. “After the annulment, Ms. Cole might decide it would be financially advantageous to share certain details of your agreement with the public. Particularly regarding Clause 7b. Needless to say, the tabloids would pay handsomely for that kind of information.”
I laugh. “Let them. My reputation only has to last long enough to close this deal.”
Arthur blinks, clearly thrown by my response. “You’re willing to risk your entire legacy on a single project, significant as it may be?”
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” I reply with a shrug.
What I don’t tell him is that somehow, despite barely knowing her, I trust Tatiana not to screw me over like that. Not sure why. Call it instinct. Or maybe I’m just another idiot thinking with his dick.
Probably the latter.
By the time she returns with Jake, the new agreement is ready. She’s carrying a small suitcase and has changed accessories, but still wears the navy dress. Her makeup is refreshed, making her look alert and professional despite what must be a pounding headache. Because if my skull still feels like it’s being jackhammered from the inside, hers can’t be much better.
Yet she carries herself with a composure that’s almost irritating. I’ve seen board members with less poise under pressure.
“Ready to sign your life away?” I ask as she sets down her suitcase.
“For thirty days only,” she replies smoothly. “And at a premium rate.”
I grin, pretending to be unfazed. “That’s the spirit.”
Arthur hands her the tablet. “The revised agreement, Ms. Cole. All changes have been implemented as discussed.”
She takes her time reading through it, scrolling carefully through each section. I admire her thoroughness. Too many people sign whatever I put in front of them without reading the fine print.
“The advance?” she asks without looking up.
“Processing now,” I confirm. “You’ll have it in the account you supplied before we leave the ground.”
She nods, still reading. Finally, she looks up. “Everything appears to be in order.”
“Then let’s make it official,” I say.
We both sign electronically, and just like that, our fake marriage has terms and conditions. Thirty days of pretending, two encounters of pleasure, and half a million dollars when it’s all over.
“Congratulations,” Arthur says dryly. “You’re now officially in a contractual marriage.”
Tatiana shoots him a look that could freeze hell. “How romantic.”
“Speaking of romance,” I interject, checking my watch, “Marco’s reception is in full swing. We should go.”
“Our first public appearance as husband and wife,” she says with forced cheerfulness. “Can’t wait.”
As predicted, the paparazzi are swarming the hotel lobby. Jake leads our security team, clearing a path. Camilla has arranged for the hotel’s security to assist, forming a human corridor for us to walk through.
“Keep your head up,” I murmur to Tatiana as we step into the gauntlet. “Look confident.”
To her credit, she doesn’t flinch at the barrage of flashes and shouted questions.
“Dominic! Tatiana! Over here!”
“When did you two start dating?”
“Was this planned or a Vegas impulse?”
“Tatiana! Did you know who he was when you met?”
I place my hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the chaos. She stiffens slightly at my touch but doesn’t pull away.
Good girl.
The limo is waiting, engine running. Ric holds the door open. Once we’re inside, the chaos muffled by tinted windows and thick doors, Tatiana exhales sharply.
“Is it always like this?” she asks.
“Sometimes worse,” I reply. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I sincerely hope I don’t have to.”
The drive to Marco’s wedding venue is short but tense. Tatiana stares out the window, and I can practically hear her thoughts racing. She’s in over her head, we both are, but I have to admire how she’s handling it.
“Listen,” I say as we approach the venue. “Marco is one of my oldest friends. I was supposed to be in his wedding party today, but obviously that didn’t happen.”
She turns to look at me. “Because you were too busy accidentally marrying me.”
“Exactly. So I need this to be convincing. We need to look like a couple swept away by passion, not two strangers who fucked up.”
“I can play my part,” she says. “Just don’t expect me to hang all over you like some trophy wife.”
I feel my lips curl into something like a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
There are photographers outside Marco’s venue too, though not the full-scale media circus we left at the hotel. I quickly scan the perimeter, a habit ingrained after years in the spotlight. Maybe two dozen of them, cameras raised like weapons. Amateur hour compared to what Tatiana and I just experienced.
Jake and Ric form a human shield as we approach the entrance, their movements synchronized and efficient. These guys earn their exorbitant salaries in moments like this, creating order from chaos without breaking a sweat.
“Stay close,” I tell Tatiana, leaning in so only she can hear me. “Security gets nervous when there’s too much space to cover.”
The reception is in full swing when we arrive. The security team stays in the background as we enter.
Heads turn immediately. Whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.
Dominic Rossi and his surprise bride.
Marco spots us from across the room and breaks into a broad grin. I make my way over to his table with my “wife.”
“The runaway groomsman returns,” he says, pulling me into a one-armed hug. “And with his own bride, no less.”
“Sorry about this morning,” I say. “Things got a bit complicated.”
“No shit,” Marco laughs. “One minute you’re doing shots with us, the next you’re married.” He turns to Tatiana, his smile widening. “Hello again.”
Tatiana offers her hand with a polite smile. “Congratulations on your wedding.”
“Thank you,” Marco says, holding her hand a moment too long for my liking. “Though I think congratulations are in order for you two as well.”
Tatiana leans into me slightly, playing her part perfectly. “Thank you.”
“I always thought Dom would be the last of us to fall,” Marco says. “But here he is, married the day before me. I always knew when it happened that it would happen hard and fast.”
Tatiana laughs, the sound surprisingly genuine. “That’s one way to describe it.”
Marco introduces us to his wife and the other members of his table.
Before we go, Marco tells her: “Save a dance for me.”
“I’d be delighted,” Tatiana says.
I force myself to smile, even as something uncomfortable twists in my gut at the thought of Marco’s hands on my wife.
My temporary wife, I remind myself.
We make our rounds, accepting congratulations and deflecting questions with practiced vagueness. Tatiana is surprisingly good at this.
“You’re a natural liar,” I murmur in her ear as we pause near the bar.
“I prefer to call it creative storytelling,” she whispers back. “Besides, I learned from the best. Christopher doesn’t know I handle half his excuses for missing meetings.”
The mention of Christopher pulls me back to reality. My best friend, her boss. Another complication in this mess we’ve created.
The band transitions to a slow song, and I see an opportunity.
“Dance with me,” I say, taking her hand.
She follows without protest as I lead her to the dance floor. Her body is stiff as I pull her close, one hand on her waist, the other holding hers.
“Relax,” I say quietly. “Everyone’s watching.”
She exhales slowly and moves closer, her body gradually softening against mine. “Like this?”
“Better.”
We move together to the music, and for a brief moment, it almost feels real. The warmth of her body, the scent of her perfume, the way she fits against me. If things were different...
“Day after tomorrow,” she says suddenly, her voice low.
I blink, pulled from my thoughts. “What?”
“Clause 7b. Day Two. That’s the day after tomorrow.”
Jesus. She’s thinking about it too.
“Having second thoughts?” I ask, keeping my voice casual despite the sudden tightness in my chest.
She looks up at me, her expression unreadable. “No. Just making sure we’re on the same page.”
Before I can respond, Marco appears beside us. “Mind if I cut in?”
Every instinct tells me to refuse, but that would look strange. I force a smile and step back. “She’s all yours.”
I watch as Marco leads Tatiana in a dance, his hand resting on the small of her back where mine had been just moments ago.
The seconds tick past, and I find my unease growing. A minute goes by.
Suddenly he leans close to say something, and she laughs.
Something hot and possessive surges through me, taking me by surprise.
What the fuck is that about? She’s not really my wife. This is business.
But business or not, I find myself striding across the dance floor and interrupting their dance.
“Sorry to cut this short,” I say smoothly, “but we have a plane to catch.”
Marco gives me a knowing look. “Can’t keep the newlyweds apart for long, I see.”
I place my hand possessively on Tatiana’s back. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
Tatiana gives me a questioning look but plays along. “It’s been quite the weekend.”
We say our goodbyes quickly, and I guide her out with perhaps more haste than necessary.
In the limo, she calls her friend Sabrina, assuring her they’ll meet soon in New York. I watch her, noticing the way she carefully edits the truth for her friend’s benefit. Or perhaps mine... I have the distinct impression her friend knows more than Tatiana is pretending to let on.
When we reach the airport, Jake and the team guide us through the private terminal. The engines of my G650 are already running, the stairs down and waiting.
As we settle into the plush leather seats, I turn to Tatiana. “One more thing. As my wife, even under these... circumstances, you require protection. Standard protocol given my profile. Jake will assign a small detail to you starting tomorrow in New York. They’ll be discreet, but they will be there. Non-negotiable.”
She studies me for a moment. “Are you actually concerned for my safety, or is this about control?”
“Both,” I admit. “My life comes with risks. And yes, I prefer knowing where you are and that you’re safe. It’s part of the deal now.”
She nods slowly. “Fine. But they better be good at keeping their distance. I don’t need shadows following me into the ladies’ room.”
“They’re professionals, not stalkers.”
As the jet begins taxiing, I notice her gripping the armrests tightly. “Not a fan of flying?”
“Not a fan of not being in control,” she says, then gives a short laugh. “Something we apparently have in common.”
I smile despite myself. “Thirty days, Tatiana. Then you can go back to controlling your own life all you want.”
“Thirty days,” she echoes, her eyes finding mine. “Let’s see if we survive each other that long.”
The look we exchange is charged with something neither of us is ready to name.
Thirty days of pretending.
Thirty days of proximity.
And in less than forty-eight hours, the first fulfillment of Clause 7b.
God help us both.