The door of the Maybach closed with a solid, hermetic seal. The noise of Broadway was instantly cut off, replaced by the hum of the climate control and the smell of conditioned leather.
Dominik leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He tapped his index finger against the armrest. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Ari sat across from him, clutching his tablet like a shield.
"Dominik," Ari said, his voice rising. "Are you insane?"
Dominik didn't open his eyes.
"The legal exposure," Ari continued, counting on his fingers. "Community property laws. The media fallout. The investors. We are in the middle of the acquisition of Cobalt Tech. If they find out you just married a... a liability..."
"She's not a liability," Dominik said.
"She's Ivy Mcneil! The tabloids say she's a drug addict. She's been in and out of rehab for years."
Dominik opened his eyes. They were clear, cold.
"She's not an addict," he said.
Ari blinked. "What?"
"Her pupils were reactive. Her hands were steady until the adrenaline hit. Her logic was flawless. She calculated the time window, the leverage, and the solution in under three minutes." Dominik reached for a bottle of sparkling water from the console. "It's a cover."
"A cover? For what?"
"Survival." Dominik cracked the seal on the bottle. He remembered the way she had gripped his arm. It wasn't the grip of a woman looking for comfort. It was the grip of a woman pulling herself off a ledge.
"Even if she is sane," Ari argued, "why? Why her? Why now?"
Dominik took a sip of the water. The bubbles burned his throat.
"I need access to the Foundation's charter," he said.
"The Miller board seat?"
"The Miller Foundation," Dominik corrected. "Their books are cooked. I've been tracking a stream of dirty capital for six months. It leads right into Harris Miller's charity. The son-in-law clause is the only loophole that grants a non-board member standing to demand a full audit."
Ari sat back, exhaling. "A Trojan Horse. You're using the marriage for corporate espionage."
"It's a defensive acquisition," Dominik said.
But he knew that wasn't the whole truth.
A memory flashed in his mind. Zurich. Five years ago. A courtyard covered in snow. A girl in a thin hospital gown, shivering, smoking a cigarette with a black eye. She hadn't cried then, either.
He owed her. But Ari didn't need to know that.
"Kill the story," Dominik ordered. "I don't want this on Page Six tomorrow morning."
"And Preston Hayes?" Ari asked, tapping on his tablet.
Dominik's eyes narrowed. "Short his father's company. Squeeze them until they bleed."
Ari grinned. "Now that sounds like you."
Dominik's phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.
Thank you. My lawyers will send the paperwork in an hour. - Ivy
Dominik stared at the screen. A small, dry laugh escaped his lips.
Ari looked up, startled. He hadn't heard his boss laugh in years.
Dominik typed back.
Looking forward to it.
He deleted the message and tossed the phone onto the seat.
"Game on, Ivy," he whispered.
