Page 56 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

“Looking pretty wasn’t part of our agreement,” she says dryly. “But please, continue mansplaining my job to me.”

I ignore the jab. “Nine o’clock. My home office. Wear whatever you want, but bring something to take notes.”

She rolls her eyes but nods. “Yes, professor. Will there be a quiz?”

“Don’t tempt me,” I say, turning to leave. I pause at the doorway. “And wash that charcoal off your face.”

Her hand flies to her cheek, and I allow myself a small smile as I walk away.

At exactly nine,Ava appears in my home office doorway. She’s wearing paint-splattered jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, her hair now contained in a messy bun. She’s cleaned the charcoal from her face. Small victories.

“Welcome to Finance 101,” I say, gesturing to the chair I’ve positioned beside mine. Not across the desk. That creates too much distance for effective teaching.I want her beside me, where I can see what she’s writing, guide her through the materials.

“Do I get a syllabus?” She drops into the chair, placing a small notebook and pen on the glass desk. Her eyes linger on it and her cheeks redden, as if she’s remembering the fantastic pussy-licking I gave her there.

Focus.

“This isn’t a joke, Ava. If you’re going to be the trustee of a multi-billion dollar investment entity, you need to understand what you’re overseeing.”

Her eyes snap from the desk to mine, and something hardens in her expression. “I’m aware of the stakes, Gideon. I may not have an MBA, but I’m not an idiot.”

“I never said you were.” I slide a folder toward her. “This is a simplified overview of corporate finance structures. I’ve highlighted the sections most relevant to the trust.”

For the next hour, I walk her through basic financial concepts. Equity versus debt financing, capital structures, risk assessment. I’ve prepared myself for glazed eyes and constant questions, but what I get instead is focused attention and surprisingly insightful queries.

“So essentially,” she says after I explain leveraged positions, “you’re using other people’s money to amplify your potential gains, but also your potential losses.”

“Correct.” I nod, slightly surprised by her quick grasp of the concept.

“Like painting with a palette knife instead of a brush,” she muses. “Higher risk, less control, but potentially more strikingresults.”

I pause, considering the analogy. “That’s actually quite accurate.”

She shrugs. “I understand risk. Every painting is a risk.”

“Painting and finance aren’t exactly comparable,” I say.

“Aren’t they? Both require understanding your medium, taking calculated risks, and knowing when to cut your losses.” She flips through the pages I’ve given her. “This section on diversification. It’s just like my use of different techniques in a single piece. Too much consistency creates something flat and uninteresting. The right balance of diverse elements creates something dynamic.”

I study her face as she continues making connections between financial concepts and artistic principles. Her brown eyes light up when she grasps a new idea, her hands moving animatedly as she explains her understanding. It’s utterly captivating.

“What about valuation methods?” I ask, pushing her a bit further. “How would you determine what a company is worth?”

She taps her pen against her lips in thought. “Well, according to this—” she gestures to the papers, “—there are multiple approaches. Discounted cash flow models projecting future value, comparable company analysis, precedent transactions.” She pauses. “But a company’s true value isn’t just numbers on a balance sheet. Like art, the value is partly intrinsic, partly perception.”

“Go on,” I say, genuinely curious where she’s taking this.

“A Rothko is technically just paper and paint. You know, materials worth maybe a hundred dollars. But it sells for millions because of what it evokes, itshistory, its scarcity, the story behind it.” She leans forward, warming to her subject. “Companies are the same, aren’t they? Ford isn’t valued based solely on how many cars it sells. It’s about the narrative, the potential, the perception of innovation. Value is subjective, fluid.”

I stare at her, momentarily speechless. Most MBA students take months to grasp what she’s intuited in an hour.

“That’s... exactly right,” I finally say, flabbergasted, yet strangely proud of her. “Most analysts fail to account for intangible factors that drive valuation. They get lost in the numbers.”

Her face breaks into a smile. Not the guarded, sarcastic one I usually see, but something genuine and bright. “See? I told you I’m not an idiot.”

“I never thought you were,” I say quietly. And I mean it.

We move on to more complex topics. Tax implications of the trust structure, fiduciary responsibilities, regulatory compliance. With each new concept, she makes connections to her own world, translating financial jargon into artistic metaphors that somehow make perfect sense.

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