"So what do we do?"
"We pretend."
Zora stared at him.
"Fake date you?"
"For a few weeks."
"This is insane."
"Yes."
"You're a mafia boss."
"Yes."
"I'm a dance student with forty-seven dollars."
"I know."
She sighed.
"Fine. But I have conditions."
Jihan was almost amused.
"Of course you do."
"First, nothing real."
"Agreed."
"Second, I still have school."
"Obviously."
"Third, when this is over, you make sure I'm actually safe."
Jihan studied her.
"Agreed."
She hesitated.
"Who are you really?"
He told her enough.
His family controlled legitimate businesses.
They also had connections to the criminal world.
The Anteneellis were rivals.
The Lee family was worse.
Zora listened carefully.
Then she sighed.
"So I came to Chicago to study dance and somehow ended up fake dating a mob boss."
"That appears to be what happened."
"Well, Mama always said I had terrible taste in men."
For the first time, Jihan laughed.
It was quiet.
Brief.
But real.
And Zora realized something important.
The monster everyone feared could laugh.
The next morning, Jihan sent a car for her.
She was taken shopping for clothes suitable for public appearances, then introduced to Helen Park, an etiquette consultant who taught her how to survive in Jihan's world.
Three days later, Zora attended her first gala.
She stood beside Jihan beneath crystal chandeliers while Chicago's elite whispered about the mysterious woman beside the Ice King.
Then his father approached.
Kong Desang looked at Zora with cold contempt.
"Who is this?"
"Zora Bennett. My girlfriend."
"She's not Korean."
"No."
"Where is her family from?"
"Georgia."
Desang smiled thinly.
"A farm girl."
Zora felt Jean tense beside her.
But she lifted her chin.
"My family works hard. My mother is a nurse. We aren't wealthy, but we're proud."
Desang laughed.
"Determination doesn't build empires."
Zora looked directly at him.
"No. But it builds people."
Silence.
Jihan stared at her.
His father walked away.
Later, on the balcony, Zora admitted she was terrified.
Jihan gave her his jacket.
Again.
"You keep doing that," she said.
"You keep getting cold."
She smiled.
"You know, Jean, I don't think you're as terrible as everyone believes."
He looked at her.
"You shouldn't look for good in me."
"Maybe you're just so used to being treated like a monster that you've forgotten you're allowed to be something else."
For the first time in years, Jihan had no answer.
When Pretending Became Real
The fake relationship continued.
At first, it was a performance.
Zora learned where to stand.
When to smile.
Whom to avoid.
How to hold Jihan's arm without looking nervous.
Jihan learned her schedule.
He sent cars when it rained.
He reminded her to eat.
He attended her dance performances.
He even learned which songs she practiced most often.
Something changed between them.
Neither noticed the exact moment.
It happened gradually.
A hand held too long.
A smile that wasn't part of the performance.
A conversation that lasted until two in the morning.
One night, after a family dinner, Jihan drove Zora home.
The dinner had been disastrous.
Desang had questioned her intelligence, her background, and her intentions.
Finally, Jihan had stood and walked out with her.
In the car, he was unusually quiet.
Zora looked at him.
"Why does your father hate you?"
"He doesn't hate me."
"Then why does he treat you like that?"
Jihan stared through the windshield.
"Because I'm not ruthless enough."
He told her the truth.
His father had forced him into the family business when he was twenty-five.
Jihan had tried to move parts of it toward legitimate operations.
His father considered that weakness.
"He wanted an heir who would expand the empire through fear," Jihan said. "Instead, he got me."
Zora took his hand.
"You're not a disappointment."
He looked at her.
"You're trying to become better than what you were born into."
His eyes softened.
"You really believe that?"
"I know it."
"Why?"
"Because you could have ignored me."
She squeezed his hand.
"You didn't."
Silence filled the car.
Then Zora whispered, "It doesn't feel fake anymore."
Jihan looked at her.
"No."
His voice was barely audible.
"It doesn't."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're in danger."
"I know."
"My enemies will use you against me."