28. Dominic
28
Dominic
S ix days left.
That thought hits me as I wake up, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom.
Six fucking days until this whole arrangement with Tatiana ends.
Fuuuuuuck.
I roll over, reaching for her instinctively, but my hand meets cold sheets. Right. She left again last night, slipping away after we both came down from the high of fucking each other senseless.
It’s been the same pattern every night this week. Sex that blows my mind, followed by her quiet departure back to the guest suite. Like she’s determined to maintain some kind of boundary between us despite the fact that I’m still inside her only minutes before she leaves.
Smart woman. Smarter than me, maybe.
I should be relieved. This is exactly what I wanted, right? A clean break when the thirty days are up. No complications. No messy feelings. Just a business arrangement that served its purpose.
So why does it bother me so much when she slides out of my bed?
I grab my phone from the nightstand. Seven-thirty. I’ve already missed my usual five AM workout. Shit. That’s what happens when you stay up half the night thinking about your temporary wife’s curvy body wrapped around your waist.
The supplier issue Tatiana handled still nags at me as I shower. Her initiative impressed me, no question. Finding GreenFrame and securing a deal that actually improves our timeline? Brilliant. But the way she went behind my back, making decisions without consulting me first...
Who am I kidding? I’m not actually pissed about that. I’m pissed that she handled something perfectly that I should have been on top of myself. But I’ve just been so distracted lately.
Nico’s bullshit demands.
The financing close.
Her .
Worse, her stepping in only proved just how fucking capable she is.
It would be easier if she was just eye candy. Just the convenient temp wife I could dismiss when the contract ends.
But she’s so much more than that.
And that fucking terrifies me.
By the time I’m dressed, Tatiana has already left for work. She’s been rising earlier than usual, probably to avoid awkward morning-after conversations. I can’t blame her. What’s there to say? “Thanks for the orgasms, see you tonight for more?”
Still, it’s a Saturday. Normally she doesn’t work Saturday. But I guess with the looming deadline, she’s decided to pull overtime shifts. For extra distance, I guess.
For me, however, a Saturday is just like any other day... a work day.
My phone buzzes, distracting me.
A text from Nico.
I feel the sharp burn of guilt before I even read the text.
It’s the end of the week. Did you get my money?
Seeing his actual words makes the guilt vanish, replaced by anger.
That backstabbing, betraying little...
But I remind myself he’s entitled to treat me however he wants, courtesy of my fucking cowardice all those years ago.
I text him back: Working on it. Deal in critical stage. Can’t discuss now. Will have Arthur circle back.
Then I send a quick text to Arthur Sterling: Draft something non-committal to show Nico we’re “working on it.” Tell him funds are tied up until closing, impossible before then. Something along those lines, with a legalese spin.
Arthur texts back. On it.
It’s a stall tactic. Because honestly, I still don’t know what I’m going to do with my baby brother.
Shit. So much going on. Too much. I’m going to crack.
My mind circles back to the supplier.
I pour myself coffee from the carafe the housekeeper left and call Jake.
“Morning, boss,” he answers on the first ring.
“I want an update on the Eco-Source situation,” I say, skipping pleasantries. “Everything you’ve got.”
“I was planning to brief you this morning anyway,” Jake says. “How about I come to the penthouse in thirty?”
“Make it the office. I’m heading there now.”
“Roger that.”
I hang up and finish my coffee, my mind racing through possibilities. Something about the supplier pulling out so suddenly doesn’t sit right, especially this close to our financing close. If it was just bad luck, I’d accept it. But in my experience, luck rarely factors into billion-dollar deals.
Someone wants this project to fail. And I need to know who.
Jake is waiting in my office when I arrive, his expression grim. I can always tell how serious a situation is by the level of stoicism on his face. Today he’s at about an eight out of ten.
“Talk to me,” I say, dropping my briefcase by my desk.
He places a folder in front of me. “The fire at Eco-Source was definitely arson. Local authorities haven’t made the connection yet, but our contacts confirmed it.”
I flip open the folder to find photos of the damaged warehouse. “Casualties?”
“None. The fire was set after hours. Aimed at inventory, not people.”
Small mercies. I study the photos. “What does this have to do with us specifically? It could have been a competitor targeting Eco-Source directly.”
Jake slides another photo across the desk. It’s a clearer, higher-resolution image compared to the initial CCTV footage he’d shown me yesterday. Morgan Weiss now caught in perfect focus, shaking hands with Eco-Source’s operations director.
“Got confirmation from our second source inside Eco-Source,” Jake says. “Weiss wasn’t just there for a casual visit. He spent over three hours in closed-door meetings with their executive team.”
My jaw tightens as I study the image. “And mysteriously, the next day half their inventory goes up in flames. Not even trying to be subtle, is he?”
“He’s getting bolder,” Jake agrees. “The police forensics team found accelerant traces that match exactly the pattern used in two other warehouse fires last year. Both competitors to Mark Blackwell’s properties.”
“So we’re officially confirming he’s still working for Christopher’s father?”
Jake nods solemnly. “Our contact inside Blackwell Senior’s organization verified it yesterday.”
I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. “Why? What’s his angle?”
“We don’t know yet.”
I tap my chin. “Mark Blackwell is a vindictive old bastard on his best day. He and Christopher had a following out before he married Lucy... could be he’s simply pissed that Christopher treats me more like family than him .”
“Could be,” Jake agrees. “In any case, with financing set to close shortly...”
“The timing is too perfect to be coincidence,” I finish. “He’s trying to derail the project at the eleventh hour. Make us miss the deadline.” I clench my fist.
Jake watches me carefully. “There’s something else.”
My stomach tightens. “What?”
“Tina Martinez, your contact at Eco-Source, received a phone call asking specific questions about Mrs. Rossi the day before the fire.”
“What kind of questions?” I ask, my voice dangerously quiet.
“Her schedule. Whether she was involved in the material selection. When she might be visiting the facility.”
A cold fear grips me, different from any business concern. “Are you telling me they were targeting Tatiana?”
“Not conclusively. But it raises concerns.”
I stand abruptly, anger surging through me. “And you’re just telling me this now?”
“I’ve had Nichols and Franks on high alert,” Jake says calmly. “They were both there with her, at GreenFrame. We’ve been monitoring all approaches since then, and making sure she’s accompanied whenever she’s out. They’re basically camping outside Christopher’s office. She’s hasn’t been in any imminent danger.”
I pace the length of my office, trying to process this. “Let me get this straight. She walked right into a potential corporate espionage situation at GreenFrame. And you let her?”
“With all due respect, sir, Mrs. Rossi is rather... determined when she sets her mind to something. And she was fully protected at all times.”
I almost laugh at that. Jake’s right, of course. Tatiana is nothing if not determined. Still, the idea that she could have been targeted because of her connection to me makes me sick to my stomach.
I sigh. “All right. All right. But I want a complete threat assessment on Morgan. All his movements, communications, everything for the past month.”
Jake nods. “Already in progress.”
“And I want to be notified immediately if she’s in any danger.”
He nods. “Understood.”
I drop back into my chair, my mind racing. “Have we secured the GreenFrame supply chain? Are they vulnerable to the same tactics?”
“We’ve already stationed private security at their main facility, and our cyber team is monitoring their systems. We’re not taking any chances.”
I nod, grateful once again for Jake’s thoroughness. This is why I pay him the obscene salary I do.
“And what about Tatiana’s apartment building?”
Jake raises an eyebrow. “Her apartment?”
“Yes. She’ll be moving back there soon.” The words taste bitter in my mouth. He doesn’t know about the planned annulment, and I consider letting him in on it right now, but figure he’ll know soon enough. “I want to make sure it’s secure.”
“We’ll do a full assessment and upgrade as needed,” Jake promises. “Though I should note that Mrs. Rossi hasn’t been informed about the security concerns yet.”
I pause, considering. “Don’t tell her. Not yet. She’s already got enough on her plate.”
Jake gives me a look that suggests he doesn’t entirely agree with keeping Tatiana in the dark, but he nods. “Your call, boss.”
After he leaves, I sit alone in my office, staring at the photo of Morgan Weiss. The man and his boss have always been a snake, but targeting a supplier is one thing. Asking questions about Tatiana crosses a line that makes my blood boil.
I pick up the phone and dial Christopher’s private line. It’s an encrypted connection. Not even the NSA could listen in on our conversation if they wanted to.
“Dom,” he answers. “Wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.”
“Your father is trying to sabotage my resort project,” I say without preamble.
A heavy sigh on the other end. “What’s he done now?”
I fill him in on Morgan Weiss, the fire, and the missed deadline we narrowly avoided thanks to Tatiana’s quick thinking.
“Jesus,” Christopher says when I finish. “I’m sorry, Dom. I knew he was bitter, but this is a new low, even for him.”
“It gets worse,” I continue. “There’s evidence they might have been asking questions about Tatiana specifically.”
Christopher’s voice hardens. “That’s completely unacceptable. I’ll deal with my father.”
“I can handle Mark,” I say. “Just wanted you to know what’s happening. And to ask you to keep an eye on Tatiana at work.”
“Of course. She’s always been under my protection as an employee,” Christopher assures me. “But I have to say, Dom, you sound more concerned than I’d expect for a business arrangement.”
Damn him for being so perceptive.
“She’s my wife,” I say simply, the words feeling strange and right simultaneously.
“Temporarily,” Christopher reminds me gently.
“Yes,” I agree, though the confirmation feels like a lie. “Temporarily.”
After hanging up, I walk to the window of my office and stare out at the Manhattan skyline. Six days left until our arrangement ends. Six days until I lose the woman who’s become far more than a convenient temp wife.
What the hell am I going to do about the feelings I’m developing for her?
My phone buzzes with a text from Jake.
Threat assessment complete. Briefing ready when you are.
Come on up, I reply.
A few moments later, Jake joins me, taking a seat across from my desk.
“What have we got?” I ask.
Jake gestures to the main screen, where a detailed timeline is displayed. “We’ve mapped Weiss’s movements for the past month. He’s been busy.”
I study the information, noting meetings with various competitors and suppliers related to my project. “He’s been methodical.”
“And effective,” Jake agrees. “The fire was just the most obvious attack. He’s also been spreading rumors about financial instability at Rossi Developments, suggesting the Vegas wedding was a sign of erratic leadership.”
I snort. “Ironic, since the wedding is the very thing that’s keeping the deal on track.”
“Exactly. But perception matters in investor circles, as you know.”
I nod, scanning the rest of the data. “What’s this?” I point to a notation about a meeting at a Manhattan restaurant yesterday.
“Weiss had lunch with your brother.”
My head snaps up. “Nico? You’re sure?”
Jake pulls up a surveillance photo showing Morgan Weiss seated across from my brother at an upscale restaurant in Midtown. “Positive.”
Fuck. That explains his erratic behavior, and complicates things exponentially. I’ve been trying to manage him while finalizing the deal, but if he’s meeting with Weiss...
“Do we know what they discussed?” I ask, though I can guess.
“Not specifically, but given the timing...”
“Weiss is using Nico to get inside information about the project,” I finish. “And probably encouraging his demands for a stake in the company.”
Shit. I told him my wedding to Tatiana is temporary. If he leaks that to Weiss, the deal is ruined.
Jake nods grimly. “It’s a smart play. Your brother has legitimate grievances that make him vulnerable to manipulation.”
Legitimate grievances. That’s one way to put it.
“We need to contain this,” I say, my mind racing through scenarios. “Where’s Nico now?”
“At his apartment in Chelsea. We’ve had passive surveillance on him since the incident at the investor dinner.”
At least that’s something. “Keep watching him. If he makes contact with Weiss again, I want to know immediately.”
“And Mrs. Rossi?” Jake asks carefully.
“Double her security detail, but keep it discreet. I don’t want her feeling like a prisoner.” I check my watch. “Has she arrived at Blackwell Innovations?”
“Yes, sir. Nichols confirmed drop-off twenty minutes ago. Franks is stationed in the lobby.”
I nod, a fraction of my tension easing knowing she’s safely at work. “Good.” I turn to leave, then pause. “Jake... thank you. For protecting her.”
He gives me a rare smile. “Just doing my job, boss.”
When he’s gone, I try to focus on work, but my mind keeps circling back to Nico meeting with Weiss, to Tatiana potentially being targeted, to the six-day countdown ticking relentlessly in my head.
I pull up the GreenFrame contract Tatiana negotiated. As I read through the terms, I can’t help but be impressed all over again. She not only secured the materials we need but actually negotiated better delivery terms than we had with Eco-Source. The twenty-two percent premium is steep, but as she pointed out, we can absorb it by adjusting the landscaping budget.
She’s brilliant. And I nearly lost her to corporate sabotage.
The thought makes my blood run cold all over again.
My phone rings, and I see it’s Elena Valdez from GreenFrame.
“Ms. Valdez,” I answer. “I was just reviewing the agreement my wife negotiated.”
“Mr. Rossi,” she replies. “I’m calling to confirm the final terms. Your security team has been quite... thorough in their assessment of our facility.”
“My apologies for any intrusion,” I say smoothly. “We’ve had some corporate security concerns recently.”
“So I gathered. Your wife is quite the negotiator, by the way. You’re fortunate to have her on your team.”
On my team. The simple phrase strikes me as profoundly right. Tatiana isn’t just my fake wife or a PA with business skills. She’s become my partner in this project, someone whose judgment I trust implicitly.
“Yes,” I agree. “I’m very fortunate.”
After confirming the contract details with Elena, I hang up and sit back in my chair.
Six days.
A whispered admission echoes in my mind before I can stop it.
I don’t want this to end.
I shake my head.
She’s burrowed under my skin, past my defenses, making me question everything I thought I ever knew about myself and what I want.