When I asked for the time and venue, Tarek’s voice turned full of excitement as he rambled on.

"Seven thirty, Forni’s, downtown. Dress nice. Please dress nice."

"I’ll be there."

I hung up before Tarek could drown me in thanks. Mira plucked the phone from my fingers and set it neatly atop the battery on the nightstand, like she was filing two problems away for later.

"Good boy."

I rolled my eyes at her, "Don’t ’good boy’ me. You ambushed me."

"I encouraged you," she said, smiling like the devil herself.

She rolled off the bed in one smooth, impossible motion and picked up her own phone, already dialing as she moved.

"the Italian charcoal, black shirt, Bremmel watch, dark overcoat. Black card from the safe and a hundred in cash. Get here in thirty. Thank you, darling."

She hung up and turned to me with the satisfied expression of a general who had just set an entire operation in motion.

...

The gate buzzed exactly twenty-eight minutes later.

Mira had thrown on a silk robe, barely knotted, slipping off one shoulder with every step, and gone down to let them in.

Two of her people entered with garment bags. Sadie, the sharp-featured woman with close-cropped hair I had seen at the club, moved with crisp efficiency. The younger woman in the tailored suit kept her expression professionally blank.

"Master bedroom," Mira called up the stairs, voice carrying like a queen’s command. "Lukas, stop hiding, sweetheart. They’ve seen worse than a boyfriend in a towel."

I came down exactly as I was.

Mira lounged on the lowest step like it was her throne, sipping something amber from a crystal tumbler, robe teasing open just enough to remind me what I would be missing tonight.

Sadie took my measurements with quick, professional hands and began unpacking the clothes.

The black shirt slid on like liquid. The trousers hugged close through the thighs and broke perfectly over the shoes. The Bremmel watch settled heavy and expensive on my wrist. When Sadie stepped back, Mira gave a single nod.

"Coat."

I turned toward the tall hall mirror and froze.

The man staring back had broader shoulders, a sharper jaw beneath the stubble, and an aura of quiet wealth that made the air around him feel heavier. The watch caught the light with every small movement. He looked like someone who belonged in places that cost more than most people made in a life.

’Oh. Oh boy, I’m hot. This is going to be deeply inconvenient because my brain is still running on instant noodles and the poor lifestyle.’

Mira let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Sweetheart... look at you."

She rose, pressed herself against my back and wrapped her arms around my waist. Her chin rested on my shoulder as we studied our reflection together. "Look at what I made."

"I came pre-assembled—"

"I finished you," she murmured, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss beneath my jaw, right where my pulse jumped. Her people stood six feet away, politely pretending to be invisible. "You’re going to walk into that restaurant and that poor woman is going to forget every word in her vocabulary."

I said, definitely not shameless enough to do this before everyone, "Aunt. Sadie is right there."

"Sadie has seen far worse. Haven’t you, Sadie?"

"Many times, Mrs. Mira," Sadie answered without missing a beat.

"See?" Mira said sweetly.

She unwound from me and became all business again. "One more thing."

She took out her phone, doing something I couldn’t see on it nd a moment later my banking app chimed.

One hundred thousand dollars. Sender labeled with a small black heart.

My eyes widened, "Aunt—"

"Hush. Walking-around money. Don’t embarrass me at Forni’s."

She produced a glossy black credit card from inside her robe, no logo, heavy as sin, and pressed it into my palm, closing my fingers around it. "No limit and the bill never reaches you."

Next came a folded stack of cash, which she tucked herself into the inside breast pocket of my coat, smoothing the lapel with possessive care. "If they want money, show them your wealth."

I opened my mouth to protest the sheer excess, but she tilted her head and fixed me with that look.

"Sweetheart, I missed years. I’ve decided I’m going to be your sugar mommy on this side of the divide, and the rules are simple: I spoil you rotten. That’s the entire job. Smile and let me enjoy it."

I couldn’t help the grin that broke through. "Yes, ma’am."

Her eyes flashed with delight. "Mmm. I like that one. We’ll explore it properly later."

She rose on her toes and kissed me, deep, unhurried, claiming, right there in front of everyone. When she pulled back, she wiped the smudge of her lipstick from the corner of my mouth with her thumb, the gesture slow and satisfied.

Then she reached into the pocket of her robe one last time and held up a sleek black key fob. The logo on it made my eyebrows rise.

"And this," she said, pressing the fob into my hand, "is yours. The black one in the garage. It’s been waiting for you since the day you came back. Take it tonight. No more cabs."

I stared at the key. "Aunt... you bought me a car?"

"I bought you that car," she corrected, voice warm with amusement. "Now go. Ruin some poor girl’s night."

She leaned in close, lips brushing my ear. "Have fun, sugar boy. Be polite. Don’t fall in love. And come home to me when you’re done."

"...Yes, ma’am."

She patted my chest, right over the cash and the new weight of the key, then gave me a gentle push toward the door.

I stepped outside. The sleek black Mercedes waited under the portico, gleaming like it had been expecting me. I climbed in, shut the door, and let out a long breath as the engine purred to life with barely a whisper.

In the rearview mirror, the woman in the charcoal suit looked back at me. I gave her a small nod.

’Forni’s, then. Let’s go meet a gold-digger.’

I pulled out onto the street, the city lights sliding across the hood like liquid silver.