Page 114 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

“By avoiding me completely? Great strategy.” Her laugh holds no humor. “God forbid we actually talk to each other like normal people.”

“We’re not normal people in a normal situation.”

“So your solution is to ghost me in my own home?Ourhome?”

The way she says “our home” catches me off guard. It shouldn’t sound right, but somehow it does.

“I needed space to think,” I admit finally.

“Then say that.” Her voice softens slightly. “Don’t just disappear.”

We stand in tense silence for a moment. She’s right, and I know it.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” I repeat, softening my tone. “And I won’t ghost you while I’m gone. Promise.”

But I’m not back before she knows it. The IP dispute turns out to be more complex than anticipated. Tanaka’s legal team has flagged seventeen separate clauses they claim differ from the originalagreement. Each requires meticulous review and negotiation.

By day three, I realize I need to extend my stay.

“How’s it going?” Ava asks during our nightly video call. It seems safer somehow, talking over zoom. There’s no chance of physical intimacy. We can be more ourselves. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

No chance of physical intimacy... I could suggest mutual masturbation?

I immediately douse the thought, and instead loosen my tie, letting the exhaustion seep through instead. “Not great. They’re stubborn bastards.”

“You look tired.”

“I am.” I lean back in the hotel chair. “The time difference is killing me. Meetings all day, then calls with New York all night.”

She tilts her head. “Have you tried approaching it from a creative angle?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she says, tucking a curl behind her ear, “you’re fighting them on technical terms, right? But Japanese business culture values relationship and face-saving. What if instead of arguing each point, you propose a compromise structure that acknowledges their concerns but maintains your core requirements?”

I stare at her. “That’s not a bad idea.”

She shrugs. “Just an outsider perspective.”

But it works. The next day, I present a restructured agreement that addresses Tanaka’s face-saving needs while preserving our essential protections. Negotiations accelerate.

Then Blackwell throws another wrench in the works. His team ups their offer, promisingexclusive access to the Chinese market. My two-day trip stretches to a full week. Then two.

Each night, I call Ava. What begins as quick updates evolves into deeper strategy discussions. Her fresh viewpoint helps me navigate cultural subtleties I might otherwise miss.

“He claimed I insulted him by questioning the factory specs,” I tell her on day ten, pacing my hotel room. “I was just asking for verification.”

“In Japanese business culture, requesting verification implies you don’t trust their word,” she explains. “Try framing it as your team needing help understanding the technical aspects.”

“How do you know this shit?”

She smiles. “I had a Japanese art history professor who spent half the class teaching us cultural context. Plus, I’ve been reading up since your first call.”

Something warm spreads through my chest. She’s been researching to help me.

By day the third week, we’ve secured the deal. Tanaka agrees to our terms, with minor modifications that protect their core concerns. Blackwell’s team is left empty-handed.

After signing the final documents, my phone rings. Jonas.

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