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Lori gaped fora minute. He looked exhausted. Overwhelmed. And strangely aching.

“Are you allright?” she asked without thinking, her voice breaking with her concern. Herheart started to hammer in anxiety and apprehension.

Ander’s wholebody jerked clumsily as he whirled around toward her. “Yes,” he said hoarsely,recovering himself quickly. “Just catching my breath.”

It had lookedlike he was doing more than that. In that moment she’d seen him vulnerable,he’d appeared almost...battered.

Her eyesstarted to burn as she wondered whether using himself in this way took a biggeremotional toll on him than she realized. Maybe having sex with her ripped himto shreds. “You didn’t like it?” she asked in a wavering voice. She cringed ather needy, childish tone

Ander made ahuff of sound and put his arm around her as he urged her back toward the bed.“Don’t be ridiculous, Lori. Of course I liked it.”

She liked thefeel of his arm around her, and her heart unclenched at his answer. As theycrawled back into bed and under the covers, she said shyly, “You didn’t waitfor me to tell you to come.”

“I know.” Hisgave her a rueful half-smile. “Sorry about that. You probably could have come afew more times if I'd managed to hold out.”

“Don’t besorry. I prefer you to come when you want. Really.” She peered at him and sawthat he was genuinely unsettled by his involuntary climax. Keeping her voicelight, she added, “I’m amazed at the control you usually have. It’s quiteremarkable. In all these months, that’s the first time you came without askingme first.”

A flicker ofexpression on Ander’s face reminded her of something.

“It wasn’t thefirst time,” she said slowly.

“No. Itwasn’t.”

“When I cameback from Hong Kong.”

Ander noddedmoodily. “Twice now. Not a good record. I’m not normally so weak.”

She made adismissive gesture. “Nowyou’rebeing ridiculous. I want you to comewhen you want.” Despite her confident words, she darted a nervous look over athim. “So you’re really all right? It's not that you don't like it?”

Ander’s mouthtwisted and he stared at the ceiling. “I told you so already. I like it. That’sthe problem.”

His wordswashed her with a flood of warm pleasure. She wasn’t sure if she should believehim. After all, his job was to please women in any way he could. He’d spentyears telling his clients exactly what they wanted to hear. Maybe that was whatwas happening here.

But instincttold her something different, and his words made her feel really good.

***

The next day Lori sat in frontof a computer and pulled up a database of articles from major Seattlenewspapers over the last three decades.

She shouldn’tbe doing this. The idea had crossed her mind more than once over the lastseveral months, but she’d always ignored it—knowing that Ander’s personal lifewas his own and it was far healthier for her to keep her relationship with himpurely professional.

But here shewas anyway. She began to type in a series of search terms, various combinationsof the words “Ander,” “Alexander,” “bald,” “hair,” “son,” “businessman,” and“disinherited.”

It took herless than ten minutes to find the information she sought. She pulled up a briefarticle from a local publication that focused primarily on business news. Thearticle, from twelve years ago, mentioned how twenty-two year old AlexanderMilton—the son of a very wealthy, notorious man—had refused to join his fatherin business and had been legally disinherited.

Lori stared atthe story on the monitor. Stared at the picture of a very young Ander, as baldthen as he was now. Stared at the name, printed there in black and white.

It all madesense. Everything Ander had told her about his father and about his early life.And everything she had sensed about the way he’d been emotionally victimized asa child. The truth of his identity closed the final gap in her understanding.

And she had noidea what to do about it.

No idea if sheshould tell him. How she should tell him. What she would say. What kind ofdifference it would make.

She had no ideawhat she was doing with Ander anymore. While she was still trying to ignore theconfusion of her feelings, she was honest enough to admit to herself that she’dgone way beyond the professional with him.

But one thingshe now knew.

For the lastsix months, she’d been fucking the estranged son of Peter Milton—who was CEO ofone of Seattle’s largest corporations and very likely a white-collar criminal.

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