Without a second thought Booker turns his hand over and laces their fingers together. Whatever rich married people do, this is what he does. Casual touches were reassuring. They spoke of intimacy and trust, things he believed any good marriage should have. And Booker refused to even pretend he wasn't a good husband.

"You should be more dismissive," Booker argues as he looks over at her for a moment. "Rich people have the money to buy more so who cares if you ruin one expensive thing? You can get another. In fact, you might as well buy two."

This would be Booker's biggest problem with the mission. He had never lost his Revolutionary zeal about the rich and wealthy. They were leeches sucking the lifeblood out of the poor and working class. He would always believe that.

Pretending to be married would be the easiest part.

Being a heartless billionaire? Fuck.