"That went well," Dominic said as they sat in the back of another taxi.

Aisha was shaking. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her cold.

"He's going to come after us," she said. "He'll try to prove the marriage is a sham. He'll investigate you."

"Let him," Dominic said. "He won't find anything." Because I have a team of cyber-security experts erasing my digital footprint as we speak.

"We have to be careful," she said. "We have to live together. Really live together. If he sends a PI..."

"I'm looking forward to it," Dominic said.

Aisha looked at him. "Why are you so calm? My father destroys people for sport."

"Maybe I like sport," he said.

Aisha's phone rang. It was Barry.

She put it on speaker.

"Aisha," Barry's voice was dangerously calm. "I've spoken to the lawyers. The marriage stands. For now."

Aisha let out a breath.

"But," Barry continued. "I need to know who this man is. If he's going to be part of this family, he needs to be vetted. Bring him to the Founder's Dinner next Friday."

Aisha froze. The Founder's Dinner was the most exclusive event of the year. The sharks of Wall Street, the old money families, the press.

"If he embarrasses us," Barry said, "if he holds a fork wrong, if he opens his mouth and sounds like the gutter trash he is... you will annul this marriage. Or I will bury you in litigation until you're eighty."

Click.

Aisha dropped the phone. She buried her face in her hands.

"We're dead," she moaned. "It's a black-tie gala. You... look at you."

She gestured to his leather jacket.

Dominic looked down at himself. "What's wrong with me?"

"You need to know which fork is for salad and which is for fish. You need to know how to discuss emerging markets. You need to know how to tie a bowtie."

Dominic smiled. "I'm a quick learner."

"We have one week," she said, her eyes frantic. "One week to turn you into a gentleman."

" My Fair Lady," Dominic mused. "I always liked that movie."

"This isn't a movie, Dominic! This is my life!"

He reached over and took her hand. His thumb traced the back of her knuckles. The touch sent a jolt of electricity up her arm.

"Aisha," he said softly. "Trust me. I won't let you down."

For the first time in two days, looking into his storm-gray eyes, she believed him.

The next morning, Aisha was still asleep in the small bedroom of her rented apartment.

Dominic slid out of the sofa bed in the living room. He dressed quickly, not in the clothes Aisha had bought him, but in a bespoke Italian suit he had stashed in a gym bag.

He slipped out the door.

A black Maybach was waiting around the corner.

Chester opened the door. "Good morning, sir. You look... rested."

"I slept on a mattress with a spring poking into my kidney," Dominic said, sliding into the leather seat. "It was fantastic."

Chester handed him a tablet. "The Bartlett file."

Dominic scanned it as the car purred toward the Financial District.

"Barry Bartlett is leveraging the company to Silas Thorne," Dominic noted. "Thorne is a vulture. He'll strip the assets and fire the employees."

"Yes, sir. And Thorne is demanding Aisha as part of the deal. He wants the family name to legitimize his takeover."

Dominic's eyes went cold. The temperature in the car seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Kill the deal," Dominic said.

Chester blinked. "Sir?"

"Fields Global will acquire Bartlett Enterprises. Hostile takeover. Use the shell companies so they don't trace it back to me."

"But sir, Bartlett Enterprises is a sinking ship. It's a bad investment."

"I don't care about the profit," Dominic said, looking out the window at the passing skyline. "I care about the captain."

He arrived at Fields Tower. He walked through the lobby, and the air changed. Employees straightened their ties. Conversations stopped.

He took the private elevator to the 50th floor.

The boardroom was full. Men in five-thousand-dollar suits sat waiting.

Dominic walked in. He didn't apologize for being late. He sat at the head of the table.

"The Thorne merger is dead," he announced. "We're buying Bartlett."

A murmur of protest.

"Dominic," one of the older board members said. "This is personal. We know about the girl."

Dominic turned his gaze on the man. "If you know about the girl, then you know I don't lose. Do it."

His phone buzzed. A text from Aisha.

Where are you? We need to start lessons. I bought flashcards.

Dominic smiled. A genuine, soft smile that terrified the board members more than his anger.

On my way, he typed. Just running an errand.

He stood up. "Meeting adjourned. I have to go learn how to use a salad fork."

He left the room, leaving twelve of the most powerful men in New York completely bewildered.

"No, no, no!"

Aisha smacked Dominic's hand lightly with a ruler.

"That's the fish knife," she said. "You use it for the sole. Not the steak."

Dominic rubbed his hand, feigning injury. "They look the same."

"They are shaped differently! Look at the curve!"

They were sitting at her tiny kitchen table. Aisha had set up a mock place setting using plastic cutlery.

"Okay," Dominic said. "Fish knife. Got it."

"Now," she said, pacing the small kitchen. "Wine. If they serve a Pinot Noir, what do you say?"

"Pass the beer?"

"Dominic!"

He laughed, grabbing her hand as she walked by and pulling her to a stop.

"Aisha. Breathe."

She looked down at him. He was sitting in her rickety chair, filling the room with his presence. He smelled of rain and that mysterious, expensive sandalwood scent.

"I can't breathe," she whispered. "If we fail..."

"We won't." He stood up. He was so close. She had to crane her neck to look at him.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked. "Really? It's not just the money. You could make money doing... easier things."

Dominic looked at her. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that she was the first real thing he had found in a world of plastic. That her fire made him feel alive.

Instead, he shrugged. "I like the food."

He leaned in. For a second, Aisha thought he was going to kiss her. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She didn't pull away.

He reached past her and grabbed a grape from the fruit bowl.

"Homework done," he said, popping the grape into his mouth. "I'm going to shower."

He walked into the bathroom.

Aisha let out a shaky breath. She touched her cheek. It was burning.

She heard the shower turn on. She imagined him in there. The water running over those broad shoulders...

She shook her head violently. Clause One. No intimacy.

She sat down at the table and opened her banking app. She transferred his weekly allowance. $1,500.

It left her with exactly $400 for the month.

She stared at the balance. She would have to skip lunch for a few weeks. But it was worth it.

In the bathroom, Dominic looked at his phone. The notification popped up.

You received $1,500.

He felt a knot in his stomach. He looked at his other account balance. $2.4 Billion.

He felt like the biggest fraud on the planet.

"I'll make it up to you," he whispered to the mirror. "I promise."