42. Tatiana
42
Tatiana
T he sunlight streaming through my cheap blinds feels like a personal attack. My eyes are swollen, my throat raw. The clock reads 6:23 AM, which means I’ve had roughly two hours of sleep. Fantastic.
Welcome to annulment day, Tatiana. Round two of being officially unwanted.
I stare at the popcorn ceiling of my Queens apartment. It feels both foreign and familiar after weeks in Dom’s sterile-but-luxurious penthouse. My old IKEA furniture and Target bedding suddenly seem childish in comparison, but at least they’re mine.
No strings.
No clauses.
No betrayal.
I keep replaying last night in my head. Dom’s silence. Nico’s smug face. The dawning horror as I realized what was happening.
I roll over and press my face into the pillow. Maybe if I just stay here, I can pretend none of it happened. That I didn’t sign a contract with a billionaire. That I didn’t get married in Vegas. That I didn’t start falling for a man who was willing to trade me to his brother like some sort of business asset.
Asset management was literally part of my business degree, but I didn’t think I’d be the asset.
My phone buzzes from the nightstand. Probably Sabrina. I grab it and confirm her name on the screen. She’s been texting me since 4 AM. Probably because of the little text I sent her about how I was going to kill Dom and his brother. Whoops.
Call me when you’re up. I’m worried.
Tatiana, seriously, call me.
If you don’t call by 7, I’m coming over with reinforcements. And by reinforcements I mean tequila.
I hit call before she follows through on that threat. Tequila is what got me into this mess in the first place. Well, that and GHB. And my own terrible judgment.
“Thank god,” Sabrina answers on the first ring. “Are you okay? Did you sleep at all? Where are you?”
“I’m at my apartment. I’m fine. And no, not really.” I sit up, wincing as my head throbs in protest. “What time did I text you last night?”
“Around one,” she says. “You weren’t making much sense, but I gathered something went horribly wrong with Dom. You said something about his brother? And wanting to kill them both?”
The memory makes my stomach turn. “Dom tried to set me up with his brother.”
“He what?” Her voice rises about three octaves.
“Yeah.” I laugh, but it comes out more like a sob. “Apparently his brother Nico saw me at some event and decided he wanted a turn once Dom was done with me.”
“And Dom agreed to this?” Sabrina sounds like she’s about to hunt him down herself.
“Yep.” I pronounce the ‘p’ with forced cheerfulness. “The same man who told me I was worth a hundred Rylans threw me to his brother like I was property.”
Not even good property. Like, Dollar Store property. Buy one emotionally damaged PA, get a free existential crisis!
“That fucking bastard,” Sabrina hisses.
“The best part is that he did it the night before our annulment.” I get up and shuffle to the kitchen, desperate for coffee. “Talk about efficient time management.”
“Tatiana...” Her voice softens. “I’m so sorry.”
I blink hard against the burning in my eyes. “Don’t be. It was just a contract.”
A contract where I sometimes slept in his bed and thought maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just business after all.
“But you had feelings for him,” she says quietly.
The coffee maker gurgles to life. The familiar sound grounds me, reminds me that I had a life before Dominic Rossi, and I’ll have one after.
“Doesn’t matter now.” I reach for the mug that says ‘World’s Okayest Employee.’ “Today is the day I sign the annulment papers, get my settlement, and pretend none of this ever happened.”
“So you’re going to meet with him to finalize everything?”
“God no.” The thought of facing him again makes me physically ill. “I’m going to get in touch with his legal team shortly and sort it out with them.”
My phone pings with a text from an unknown number. I put Sabrina on speaker to check it.
This is Arthur Sterling, lead counsel for Rossi Developments. Please contact me at your earliest convenience regarding finalizing the agreement.
“Speak of the devil’s minions,” I mutter. “Dom’s lawyer just texted.”
“Already?” Sabrina sounds suspicious. “It’s barely 6:30.”
“Billionaires don’t operate on normal human schedules.” I take a sip of coffee, savoring the bitter heat. “Plus, I’m sure Dom wants this wrapped up as quickly as possible.”
So he can move on to his next acquisition.
“You know what makes all this even worse?” I tell her. “He fucked me before the dinner. And I mean that literally. Fucked. We didn’t make love. He just took me from behind.” The memory makes me cringe. “He was... aggressive. Almost angry.” I wrap my free arm around my waist. “He didn’t even make sure I... you know.”
“Finished?”
“Yeah.” The humiliation burns hot. “It was like I was just a receptacle for him to masturbate inside.”
“Jesus, Tati.”
“I know.” I lean against the counter. “Looking back, I should have seen it coming. Cold, aggressive sex followed by ‘surprise, meet my brother, your next owner.’”
Tatiana Cole: Making Poor Relationship Choices Since Forever.
“So what’s your plan?” Sabrina asks. “Besides the annulment and settlement?”
I straighten my shoulders, even though she can’t see me. “I still have my job with Christopher. That’s something. And once the settlement clears, I’ll have enough saved to take some time, figure out what I really want.”
“Good.” I can hear the approval in her voice. “And if Dom tries to contact you?”
“He won’t.” I’m sure of this. “He got what he wanted. His precious resort deal. The contract is fulfilled. He has no reason to reach out.”
But even as I say it, fragments of moments slide through my mind. His face when he saw my apartment. The way he looked at me after we weathered Jian Chung’s interrogation together. His body curled protectively around mine in sleep.
Stop it. It wasn’t real. None of it was real.
“I should get ready,” I tell Sabrina. “I want to swing by the lawyer’s office before I head to work. The sooner this is over, the better.”
“Call me after. And Tati? You’re worth a thousand Dominic Rossis.”
I laugh, though it’s bittersweet. “Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.”
After we hang up, I step into the shower. The pressure is pathetic compared to Dom’s rainfall shower, but it’s mine. I scrub every inch of my body, washing away the lingering scent of his body on mine, the memory of his touch.
As I dress in one of my pre-Dom suits, something navy blue, sensible, and utterly unmemorable, I rehearse what I’ll say to Arthur Sterling.
Professional.
Unemotional.
Matter-of-fact.
I slip on my most uncomfortable heels, because sometimes pain helps you focus. As I grab my purse, I can’t help but check my phone.
No messages from Dom.
I smile sadly. I was right. He’s not going to contact me. Never going to.
He got what he wanted.
I check my reflection one last time. My eyes are still puffy, but my makeup covers the worst of it. And the fading hickeys on my neck are suitably hidden beneath dabs of concealer.
My posture is straight, my expression composed. No one looking at me would guess that inside, I’m shattered.
Time to sign away my billionaire husband. Let’s hope this annulment sticks better than my wedding did.
I lock my apartment, and walk with my head held high and my steps sure.
I’m Tatiana Cole.
Not Tatiana Rossi.
And I’m taking back control of my life and my broken heart.
One signature at a time.