At exactly 5:17 on a Tuesday morning, something happened inside my Atlanta estate that none of the armed men working for me would have thought possible.

By Friday morning, the transition was complete.

Megan’s belongings—which fit into just three large cardboard boxes and two duffel bags—had been moved from the small carriage house to the spacious guest suite in the East Wing of the main mansion.

The suite was larger than any apartment Megan had ever stepped foot in. It featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the private rose garden, plush cream-colored carpets, a master bedroom with a king-sized bed, a nursery fully furnished with custom wooden cribs and toys for Toby, and a private kitchenette stocked with fresh groceries.

When Toby was set down in the middle of the soft living room rug, the boy immediately let out a happy squeal, crawling furiously toward a large wooden rocking horse that had been placed near the window.

Megan stood in the doorway, her hands resting on her hips, feeling completely overwhelmed by the sudden change in her life.

Nancy walked into the suite carrying a sleek black tablet and a stack of leather-bound scheduling books. She looked at Megan, her expression a mix of awe and deep concern.

"I've worked for the Mason family for thirty-two years, Megan," Nancy said, setting the tablet on the marble dining counter. "I saw Dominic’s father rebuild this empire after the old lords fell. I saw Dominic himself survive the shooting that killed his father and took his legs. In all those years, I have never seen him open the East Wing to anyone."

"Nancy, I didn't ask for this," Megan said quickly.

"I know you didn't," Nancy replied softly, stepping closer and touching Megan’s shoulder. "That's precisely why he gave it to you. If you had asked for it, he would have suspected you. But you saved his life without asking for a single dollar in return. To a man who has been surrounded by parasites his entire life, that makes you priceless."

Nancy tapped the screen of the tablet. "Here are your new duties. You will manage Mr. Mason’s personal schedule, coordinate with Marcus regarding his travel arrangements, and handle his private correspondence. You do not touch cleaning supplies anymore. A commercial cleaning crew will arrive twice a week under my supervision."

"And Toby?" Megan asked.

"Mr. Mason has already arranged for a licensed private nanny to assist you during working hours," Nancy added with a faint smile. "She will stay in the staff quarters downstairs and take care of Toby whenever you are required to accompany Mr. Mason to his downtown office."

Megan sat down on one of the barstools, resting her forehead in her hands. It was happening so fast. Six weeks ago, she was counting pennies to buy milk at the corner store. Today, she had a private nanny, a luxury suite, and a salary that placed her solidly in the upper middle class.

"He's going downtown today, isn't he?" Megan asked, looking up.

"Yes," Nancy nodded, her smile fading into a grave look. "The meeting at The Grand Piedmont Hotel is set for two o'clock. Every major player in the city will be there. Arthur Vance has been trying to organize a coalition against Dominic for months. Today, Dominic intends to cut off the snake's head."

"Is it safe?"

"With Marcus and eight armed men accompanying him? Safe enough," Nancy answered. "But Dominic wants you by his side."

"Me? Why?"

"Because he wants the city to see that he has a new personal assistant," Nancy said plainly. "And because he knows that having you near him keeps his head clear. Now go get dressed. There is a package in your closet from Mr. Mason."

Megan walked into the walk-in closet. Resting on a velvet hanger was a tailored charcoal-grey skirt suit made of fine Italian wool, accompanied by a crisp white silk blouse and elegant, low-heeled leather pumps. Beside it was a small jewelry box containing a simple, exquisite gold wrist watch.

She touched the soft fabric of the suit, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Dominic wasn't just changing her job; he was reshaping her entire identity. He was lifting her out of the shadows of survival and placing her right beside him at the center of his powerful, dangerous world.

An hour later, Megan stepped down the grand staircase into the main foyer.

Dominic was waiting near the double entrance doors, dressed in a impeccably tailored three-piece black suit. Marcus stood beside him, holding a heavy leather briefcase.

When Dominic turned his chair and saw Megan walking down the stairs, his dark eyes darkened with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. The sharp, professional suit fitted her perfectly, emphasizing her slender waist and long legs, while her hair was pinned back in a sophisticated, elegant updo.

He looked at her for several seconds without speaking.

"Does it fit?" he asked, his voice low and deep.

"It fits perfectly," Megan said, coming to a stop before his chair. "Mr. Mason, this is too much—"

"It is exactly what is required," Dominic interrupted smoothly, extending his hand toward her. "Today, you represent the Mason organization. Walk beside me, keep your head high, and do not let any man in that room see you hesitate."

Megan looked at his offered hand. She didn't hesitate. She placed her fingers gently in his grasp, feeling the same solid, unwavering warmth she had felt on Tuesday morning.