After my mother seated me near the kitchen for my sister's wedding, my terrifying boss volunteered to be my fake date.

Dinner was an intense, intoxicating affair.

They sat close together at the head of the long table, drinking heavy Italian wine and eating food prepared by Roman’s private chef.

For the first time, Roman talked about his past.

He spoke of growing up on the harsh streets of the West Side, his father’s violent rise through the ranks of the Chicago syndicate, and the heavy, bloody burden of taking over the family business at twenty-five after his father was assassinated by a rival faction.

"It’s not a life you choose, Sadi," Roman said, cutting a piece of steak with surgical precision. "It's a life you inherit. You either master the violence, or the violence consumes you."

"And you mastered it," Sadi said softly, watching the firelight dance across his sharp features.

"I survived it," Roman corrected. "There's a difference."

He looked at her, his dark eyes softening. "What about you? Why art history?"

Sadi smiled faintly, tracing the rim of her wine glass with her finger. "Because art lasts. Empires fall, leaders die, families split apart... but a painting or a statue survives for thousands of years. It holds the emotion of the person who made it, long after they're gone. I wanted to be around things that couldn't be easily destroyed."

Roman watched her face closely, taking in every line, every shift in her expression. "You're stronger than you think, Sadi. You survived your family. That takes a different kind of armor."

"My mother called me this afternoon," Sadi admitted, looking down at her lap.

Roman’s posture instantly hardened. "What did she want?"

"She was terrified," Sadi said, a small, genuine laugh escaping her lips. "She wanted to know who you were, why Derek was crying in the parking lot after the dinner, and if you were really going to buy her a new car for Chloe's wedding gift."

Roman raised his glass to his lips, a faint, dark smirk touching the corners of his mouth. "And what did you tell her?"

"I told her to move us to Table 1," Sadi replied, looking up at him with a bold, dangerous spark in her eyes. "Because my boyfriend doesn't sit in the back."