Page 94 of King of Greed

He took us to DC, the city where we met, dated, and fell in love. The city where we got married and planned to celebrate our ten-year anniversary. It’d encapsulated so much of our relationship that stepping onto its streets was like stepping back in time.

The nostalgia intensified when our driver dropped us off at our first stop of the day. Black exterior. Crooked red sign. Windowsadvertising the “best burgers in the city.” Some things changed, but this place hadn’t.

My throat closed with emotion. “Frankie’s.” The site of so many late nights and stolen touches all those years ago.

I hadn’t expected the impact it would have on me. Dominic and I hadn’t visited DC in years, which was why I’d insisted on coming for our anniversary. It was so close to New York that weekend trips should’ve been common, but he always wanted to go somewhere farther, more glamorous.

St. Moritz. St. Tropez. St. Barts. Despite what it meant to us, DC had never made his list except for work—until now.

“Exactly as we left it,” Dominic said. “With a few improvements.”

“I hope so.” A watery laugh rustled in my chest. “Eleven and a half years is a long time to go without any changes.”

“Yes, it is.”

Soft, silent understanding melded our glances together before we looked away. Our fingers interlaced as we walked into the diner, familiar enough to set me at ease but new enough to send butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

Frankie’s, Thayer, Crumble & Bake for my favorite lemon cupcakes followed by a stroll along the Georgetown waterfront and aimless wandering through the new neighborhoods and shops that’d popped up since we left…it was the ideal mix of comfort and novelty. Dominic couldn’t have planned a more perfect birthday.

“God, I’ve missed this city.” I wouldn’t live here again. I’d outgrown what DC could offer, personally and professionally, but being back was like slipping into a beloved, worn pair of jeans.

Dominic drew me closer to his side and kissed the top of my head. “We can visit any time you like.”

This close to sunset, the waterfront was filled with people. Students, couples, and families thronged the benches, but oneparticular family drew my eye. The couple was young, likely in their mid-twenties, and they looked blissfully happy as they cooed at the baby sitting in the mother’s lap.

Longing gripped me so fiercely and suddenly it brought me to a standstill.

Dominic and I hadn’t talked about children since we agreed we both wanted them one day. That’d been at the start of our marriage. So much had changed since then, but I still wanted a family—with him. Only him.

Dominic followed my gaze. “Cute kid,” he said softly.

“Yeah.” I swallowed past a sharp ache. He hadn’t pushed me to take things further or faster than I was comfortable with. We were exclusive now, but I suspected he wasn’t sure if Iwantedto get married again one day. “Ours will be cuter.”

His gaze snapped to mine. I could see the moment the implication behind my words sank in because his mouth blossomed with the tenderest, most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.

“Yes,amor,” he said. “They will.”

EPILOGUE

Dominic

Four months later

THAT SUMMER, ALESSANDRA AND I MOVED IN TOGETHER.She broke her lease early and I sold the penthouse in favor of a brownstone nestled in the heart of the West Village. It was massive, boasting four stories, a rooftop deck, and a medium-sized backyard (which was a luxury and a half in Manhattan), but it still had a cozier vibe than our old home.

We brought Camila and the rest of our household staff with us. Camila had been skeptical of the move, but once she saw the kitchen, which was even bigger than the one in the penthouse, she was all in. Despite her initial grumblings, I suspected she was so happy we were back together that she would’ve moved with us to a shack in the woods if we’d asked her to. She treated Alessandra like a surrogate daughter, and her patience with my divorce-induced mood swings had run thin.

After we closed on the house, Alessandra and I hired an interior design consultant but decorated most of it ourselves.For once, I worried less about buying the most expensive items and more about what fit with our lives.

Our foyer boasted fresh flowers and graceful trinkets instead of the priceless but somewhat terrifying marble bust I’d successfully bid on in a Sotheby’s auction, and Alessandra talked me out of building a miniature golf course in the backyard simply because I could. Neither of us evenlikedmini golf.

Fortunately, she’d acquiesced to a rooftop hot tub and the construction of a private elevator. There was only so much I was willing to give up when it came to luxuries.

I did, however, also donate a vast sum of money for the establishment and maintenance of the Ehrlich Scholarship Fund at Thayer University. The need-based scholarships would offer full rides to a dozen incoming students every year starting this fall. Professor Ehrlich had been an avid fan of mini golf, but I suspected that if he were alive, he would’ve liked the scholarships even more.

Sometimes, I missed the penthouse and what it represented—the first big sign that I’d made it, whateveritwas—but that house had been for me. This house was for us, and it was time I made it official.

“Dom?” Alessandra’s voice floated from deep within the entrance. “Are you home?”

---