39. Tatiana
39
Tatiana
W e finally pull up to the restaurant, the sleek black town car gliding to a stop at the curb. I spot our security detail in the follow car behind us, the two men already scanning the sidewalk with practiced efficiency.
Dom checks his watch, then his phone again. The screen illuminates briefly, and I catch a glimpse of a name. Nico.
“Your brother?” I ask before I can stop myself.
His head snaps up, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“I saw Nico’s name on your phone.” I shrug. “Is this dinner about him? The resort concept he claims you stole?”
A muscle jumps in Dom’s jaw. “Let’s go inside.”
Ric opens my door, and the cool evening air hits my face. I step out, suddenly wishing I’d worn something with more armor than this cream silk blouse and charcoal skirt. Something with shoulder pads, maybe. Or an actual suit of medieval armor.
Dom places his hand on the small of my back as we enter the restaurant, a gesture that should feel intimate but instead feels perfunctory. Like he’s guiding a package to its destination.
Tomorrow this ends.
The thought lodges in my chest like a shard of glass.
The ma?tre d’ recognizes Dom immediately, of course, and leads us toward the back of the restaurant. Not to the main dining room, but to a private space cordoned off from the rest of the establishment. No one else in the restaurant will see or hear anything that takes place in that room.
Perfect for a discreet business meeting.
Or a private execution.
Stop being so dramatic.
“Mr. Rossi,” the ma?tre d’ says with a slight bow, “your guest has already arrived.”
Dom nods, his hand still at my back, guiding me forward. I note our security team taking positions nearby, one at the bar, one near the entrance to our private dining area.
We step into the private room, and I see him immediately. A man who looks like a funhouse mirror version of Dom. He’s slightly younger, has similar bone structure, but with a network of scars tracing one side of his face. His eyes, though, are nothing like Dom’s. Where Dom’s burn with intensity, this man’s glitter with something else. Something... I’d have to say, almost malevolent.
Dom freezes beside me. For a split second, I feel his hand tremble against my back.
He’s... afraid? The billionaire who isn’t scared of anyone?
The man stands, a smile spreading across his face. “So this is the bride! It’s good to finally meet you.”
What the actual fuck is happening right now?
“Tatiana,” Dom says, his voice strangely hollow, “this is my brother, Nico.”
I extend my hand automatically, years of professional training kicking in. “Nice to meet you.”
Nico takes my hand, but instead of shaking it, he brings it to his lips. “The pleasure is entirely mine.” His eyes never leave my face, even as he kisses my knuckles. “My brother has been keeping you all to himself.”
I retrieve my hand as politely as possible, fighting the urge to wipe it on my skirt.
Oh god. Something is very wrong here.
“I thought this was a business dinner,” I say, looking between the brothers.
“Oh, it is,” Nico replies, gesturing for us to sit. “Family business.”
Dom pulls out my chair, and I sink into it, hyperaware of the tension crackling between the brothers. This isn’t a normal family dinner. This is something else entirely.
A waiter appears, offering wine. I accept gratefully, suddenly desperate for alcohol.
“So, Tatiana,” Nico says once our glasses are filled, “Dom tells me you’ve been instrumental in the resort project.”
“I’ve helped where I could.”
“So modest,” Nico says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Dom says you’re brilliant. A natural problem-solver.”
I glance at Dom, but he’s staring at his wine glass like it’s the only thing that exists in the world.
“Did he also tell you about our Vegas wedding?” I ask, attempting humor. “Not my finest problem-solving moment.”
Nico laughs, a sound that grates on my nerves. “Oh, no. He didn’t have to. I saw it all over the news. Though...” He gives Dom a conspiratorial glance. “I understand it won’t be a problem much longer?”
My smile freezes. “Excuse me?”
“The annulment,” Nico says casually, taking a sip of wine. “Tomorrow, isn’t it?”
I feel a chill run through me. “Yes,” I say slowly. “That was the plan. Dom... told you, I guess.”
“ Was the plan?” Nico raises an eyebrow, looking between Dom and me. “Has something changed?”
Tell him, Dom. Tell him we need to talk about it. Tell him you’ve felt it too, whatever this thing is between us. Tell him to just leave me alone.
But Dom says nothing. Just takes a long swallow of his wine.
Nico leans forward, eyes gleaming. “You know, Dom and I have been discussing your future. Haven’t we, brother?”
Dom’s knuckles turn white around his glass. “Nico—”
“He mentioned you’ve been quite an asset. That it would be a shame to lose your... talents... after the annulment.”
Something about the way he says “talents” makes my skin crawl.
“I’m not sure I understand,” I say, managing the sweetest smile I can muster.
“Oh, it’s simple.” Nico grins. “Dom agreed that once your arrangement ends, perhaps you and I could get to know each other better.”
The world stops spinning.
“What?” The word feels ripped from my throat.
“Didn’t he mention it?” Nico glances at Dom, who sits rigid beside me. “We’ve discussed it several times. I suggested it, and he agreed. Said he’d arrange this dinner so we could meet properly.”
I turn to Dom, waiting for him to deny it. To tell his brother to go to hell. To explain that this is some kind of sick joke.
But what I see in his eyes confirms everything. Guilt. Shame. And worst of all, resignation.
“Dom?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Tatiana, I—” He stops, swallows. “It’s not—”
“Not what?” I demand, my voice rising. “Not what it sounds like? Because it sounds like you promised me to your brother like I’m some kind of... prize to be... passed on. Traded. ”
Nico sits back, clearly enjoying the show. “Now, now. That’s not quite how I’d put it. I simply expressed interest, and Dom saw no reason why we couldn’t explore the possibility. After all, your contract with him ends tomorrow. Right?”
But I merely shake my head and give Dom an accusing look. “I can’t believe you told him about us.”
Dom finally meets my eyes. “I had to. He’s my brother.”
“Oh I see. Because he’s your brother, that gives you the right to discuss me like I’m some business asset. To be transferred? Traded. Fucked. Because that’s what brother do, right?”
“You don’t understand—”
“Then explain it to me, Dom. Explain why you would bring me here, under false pretenses, to meet the brother you’ve been keeping secrets about for weeks. The same brother you suddenly think I should ‘get to know better’ once our marriage ends.”
Dom’s expression is pained. “It’s complicated.”
“Enlighten me.”
He glances at Nico, then back to me. “I owe him.”
“For what?”
“For—” Dom’s voice catches.
Nico’s smile turns predatory. “He never told you?”
When neither of them enlighten me further, I simply scowl.
“So this is what? Penance?” I ask Dom, my voice shaking with anger. “Handing me over to make up for some kind of guilt?”
“No, that’s not—”
“Yes,” Nico interrupts. “That’s exactly what it is. You’re the payment for his sins, Tatiana. A pretty consolation prize.”
I stand so abruptly my chair nearly topples backward. “I am not a fucking consolation prize.”
“Tatiana, please—” Dom reaches for my arm, but I step away.
“Don’t touch me.” The words come out icy cold. “Was any of it real? Or was I just a means to an end from the very beginning?”
“It was a contract,” he says, and though I can hear the conflict in his voice, all I can focus on is the word. Contract. “It was meant to end tomorrow.”
“Answer the question, Dom. Was any of it real for you? Or were you just biding your time, telling me what I wanted to hear, until you could hand me off to your brother like some sick peace offering?”
He stands, too, his eyes flashing with anger. But then he glances at Nico, and his face fills with pain and guilt and he crumples back into his chair.
His silence is deafening. But even worse is his surrender. It’s... heartbreaking. He’s not even going to fight for me.
I turn to Nico, the fury crystallizing into something cold and clear. “Let me be perfectly clear. I am not, nor will I ever be, interested in whatever sick game you two are playing. I am a person, not a bargaining chip.”
Nico shrugs, unbothered. “Your loss.”
I grab my purse and turn to leave, then pause, looking back at Dom. “You have nothing to say to me? Nothing at all? It was always just a contract to you? Just business?”
The pain in his eyes should give me satisfaction, but it only twists the knife deeper.
“Tatiana—”
“Save it.” I walk toward the entrance to the private room, then stop when I spot Jake waiting outside. He straightens, watching me closely. I turn back one last time. “Call off your dogs. I don’t need your security anymore.”
I wait for Dom to respond. He doesn’t.
“Dom,” I say pointedly. “Your security.”
“Stop following her,” he says in defeated.
Jake appears stunned, but doesn’t follow when I push past him.
I stride through the restaurant toward the exit. I glance over my shoulder. Nichols is staying by the bar, and Jake hasn’t moved from the entrance to the private dining area.
Good.
My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear the ma?tre d’ asking if everything is all right. I burst onto the sidewalk, gulping in the cool night air, my vision blurring with unshed tears.
Don’t cry. Not here. Not until you’re alone.
I flag down a cab, sliding into the back seat before anyone from Dom’s security team can change their mind and try to stop me.
“Where to, miss?” the driver asks.
I give him my address in Queens, then slump against the seat as the cab pulls away from the curb.
Away from Dom and his brother and the shattered remains of whatever I thought we had.
So it happened. I’ve been heartbroken. Again. Jilted at the altar once more.
I laugh softly, the sound hollow in the quiet cab.
Jilted at the annulment , I suppose. I got a bit farther than the altar this time.
Looks like I’ll be breaking out the ice cream pails again. Rocky Road, honey.
The cab weaves through Manhattan traffic, carrying me back to my old life. Back to being just Tatiana Cole, personal assistant. Back to a world where billionaires don’t marry you in Vegas, where brothers don’t trade you like baseball cards, where hearts don’t break quite so spectacularly.
The tears finally come, hot and silent, trailing down my cheeks as the city lights blur outside the window.
Tomorrow I’ll head over to the office of Dom’s lawyers early in the morning, and I’ll sign the annulment papers without hesitation.
Tomorrow I’ll go back to work for Christopher, and I’ll never mention these thirty days to anyone.
Tomorrow I’ll forget Dominic Rossi.