Page 67 of King of Greed

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” I rose and walked to the door while Sloane and Isabella continued to bombard Vivian with questions.

A twenty-something guy in a white polo shirt greeted me. “Alessandra Ferreira?” He carried a small, gift-wrapped box in his hands.

“That’s me.” A line of puzzlement dug between my brows. I hadn’t ordered anything.

“Sign here, please.” He handed me a tablet.

I scribbled my signature and, too curious to wait, tore open the wrapping paper immediately after he left. The white box underneath contained no hint of what was inside, but when I opened it, my heart came to an utter standstill.

“You brought me a present on our first date? You mustreallylike me,” I teased, taking the gift bag from Dominic’s hand.

A hint of color glazed his cheekbones. “It’s not for the date. It’s for the semester.”

“What…” My sentence trailed off when I retrieved the item.The cheerful white mug had a gold handle and a red apple stamped with the words “World’s Best Teacher” in bold black.

Emotion crested in my throat.

No tutee had ever bought me anything beyond a Starbucks gift card. It was so unlike Dominic, both in sentiment and in product, that it rendered me speechless.

He must’ve mistaken my silence for displeasure because his color deepened.

“I know it’s cheesy, and you’re a tutor, not a teacher,” Dominic said stiffly. “But you said your favorite mug broke a few weeks ago and…fuck. Never mind.” He reached for it. “I’ll return it. You don’t— ”

“No!” I clutched the mug protectively to my chest. “I love it. Don’t you dare try to take it back, Dominic Davenport, because I’m keeping it forever.”

That turned out to be untrue. The original mug broke during our move to New York. I’d been devastated, but the one in my hands was an exact replica of the one he’d gifted me on our first date, down to the apple and “World’s Best Teacher” font.

Our first date.December 21, aka today. It was the first anniversary of ours that I’d forgotten. I’d been too distracted by the mess at the store and the complications of ourcurrentrelationship.

I picked up the handwritten note tucked beneath the mug with a trembling hand.

I’ll always think of you on this day.

There was no signature, but it didn’t need one. The dark, messy scrawl was unmistakably Dominic’s.

Pressure built behind my eyes.

“What is that?” Isabella asked. My friends had fallen silent and were eyeing me with curiosity.

I placed the note back in the box and closed it.

“Nothing,” I said. I blinked past the blur in my vision and forced a smile. “It’s nothing at all.”

CHAPTER 30

Alessandra

AFTER ISABELLA AND VIVIAN LEFT AND SLOANE RETIREDfor the night, I wedged into the back of my closet, took out my phone, and messaged the guy I’d matched with on the dating app. He messaged back immediately, and by the following afternoon, I had a date for Tuesday night.

It happened so fast it made my head spin, which was exactly what I wanted. If I thought too hard, I’d sink into the pool of guilt puddling in my stomach. I’d made it clear I wanted to date other people, and Dominic had agreed. I had no reason to feel guilty, but it was difficult to shed old ways of thinking.

He’s not yours anymore. You’re free.

One day, my feelings would catch up with my logic. Until then, I forced myself to give my upcoming date a fair chance.

Dalton was charming, well-educated, and handsome in a generic Ralph Lauren model sort of way. He’d just moved to New York from Australia and worked in “business,” a vague descriptor that hinted at a possible trust fund background, but other than that, our text conversations were perfectly lovely.

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