The night my younger sister stole my millionaire fiancé at our engagement party

The private home of Dominic Moretti sat high on the ridge of Mulholland Drive, a sprawling modernist mansion of glass, steel, and warm teak wood that offered an unbroken panoramic view of the glittering Los Angeles basin below.

The evening air was crisp and clear, carrying the faint scent of eucalyptus and mountain chaparral.

Inside, the atmosphere was a far cry from the cold, intimidating aura of his corporate office. The kitchen was warm, filled with the delicious aroma of garlic, fresh basil, and simmering marinara sauce.

Mia sat at the kitchen island wearing a pair of pink dinosaur pajamas, aggressively coloring a picture of a rocket ship while shouting out a running commentary to anyone who would listen.

"And then the rocket ship goes whoosh past the moon, Evelyn!" Mia announced, holding up her green crayon for my inspection.

"That's a very fast rocket ship, Mia," I laughed, leaning against the marble counter while sipping a glass of chilled Chianti.

Across the kitchen, standing by the six-burner Viking stove in a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt, was Dominic. He was stirring a massive pot of homemade pasta sauce with the same intense concentration he usually reserved for reviewing multi-million-dollar real estate acquisitions.

"How's the sauce, Chef Moretti?" I teased, watching him sprinkle a handful of fresh oregano into the simmering pot.

Dominic glanced over his shoulder, a slow, easy grin spreading across his face. "My grandmother taught me this recipe when I was eight years old, Evelyn. If you criticize it, I'll have to revoke your auditing credentials."

"Threatening your Chief Compliance Officer with unemployment?" I raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of my wine. "That sounds like a hostile labor practice."

"It's a dictatorship," Dominic corrected smoothly, turning off the burner and walking over to the island. He reached out, taking the wine glass from my hand and setting it aside, before sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me flush against his chest.

Mia didn't even look up from her coloring book. "Daddy and Evelyn are kissing again," she announced to her rocket ship with absolute toddler nonchalance.

I felt a hot blush creep up my neck, but I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face as Dominic pressed a warm kiss to the top of my head.

"Dinner is served, princess," Dominic told his daughter, before looking down at me. "And as for you, Ms. Vance... your audit of Arthur Sterling's financial network is complete."

I pulled back slightly, my professional curiosity instantly overriding my romantic distraction. "You heard back from the federal prosecutor?"

"Better," Dominic said, a dark, dangerous gleam returning to his eyes. "Sterling tried to wire four million dollars through an offshore account in the Caymans this afternoon to buy off the municipal zoning commissioner. My technical team intercepted the electronic routing codes and rerouted the funds directly into the city's public school renovation fund."

I stared at him, my jaw dropping. "You... you stole four million dollars from Arthur Sterling and gave it to the public schools?"

"I didn't steal it," Dominic corrected with a straight face. "I merely facilitated a charitable contribution on his behalf. The federal prosecutor received the paper trail twenty minutes ago. By tomorrow morning, Arthur Sterling will be answering questions about wire fraud, bribery, and federal tax evasion."

"You are completely impossible," I breathed, though I couldn't help laughing as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"I'm efficient," Dominic corrected, his lips descending to capture mine in a deep, lingering kiss that made every single worry about my old life vanish into the California night.