Page 77 of Escorted

Leaving wouldbe a defeat. Would be a surrender. And that was something Ander would never dowhen confronted with his father.

Lori was awedby the strength of his will that had allowed him to overcome his shock so quickly,but she also wanted to cry for him. And she knew the longer Ander was in hisfather’s presence, the more painful it would be for him.

She had nochoice, though. Ander wasn’t about to back down. So she walked with him over totheir table, keeping her hand on his arm.

Just beforethey sat down, something finally must have processed in Ander’s brain. With asharp breath, he turned on his heel and grabbed her shoulders with strong,unyielding hands.

Lori wasslammed with a wave of terror as she stared up into his angry face.

Ander tightenedhis fingers on her shoulders and gritted out in a voice she’d never heard fromhim before, “You know.”

Lori gulped. Ander’shands on her shoulders were painful and her breath came out in frantic, littlepants. But she managed to pull herself together enough to respond. “Yes. I knowwho you are. I’m sorry.”

Something rawtwisted on his face. She’d never seen him angry before, but he clearly was now.“You’ve known all along?”

“No!” Her voicewas shriller than she’d expected, so she tempered it as she continued in anearnest rush, “I only just found out. I had no idea before. I promise. A coupleof weeks ago, I got curious and wanted to know more about you. So I dug backthrough some old newspapers and figured it out. I wasn’t sure how to tell you.I know you didn’t want me to pry into your personal life. I can understand whyyou're mad. I’m sorry. I really am.”

She didn’t wantAnder to be mad at her. But that wasn’t the reason for her sudden surge ofdesperation. For a moment, he looked almost betrayed. Like she’d betrayed him.And she couldn’t bear for that to be true.

Some of thetension eased on Ander’s face, although his eyes were hard and wary. “And whatwere you going to do with this information?”

“Nothing!”Instinctively, Lori reached out to grab onto Ander’s shirt and cling. “I wouldnever do anything to hurt you. How can you even think that?”

Ander let out abreath, the anger fading on his face and leaving nothing but bitter exhaustion.Then, as if he were suddenly aware of how fiercely he was gripping her, hereleased her shoulders abruptly and dropped his hands. “It’s not a big deal.”

She’d almoststarted to relax but then her breath caught sharply at his resigned words. “Itisa big deal. I mean, you deserve an apology from me. And we can talk about itmore. But I don’t think this is the best time or place for the discussion.” Shedarted a look over at Peter Milton, whose eyes had glanced idly past where Loriand Ander were standing in front of their table, having a private conversationin public.

“You’re right,”Ander murmured, pulling out Lori’s seat for her. “Let’s sit down and move on.”

Neither one ofthem would really move on. Lori was relieved that Ander had, at least for themoment, let go of his anger and resentment toward her. But she was afraid abouthow this turn of events would affect their relationship in the future.

It might changeeverything.

Everythingmight already have changed.

And Ander’sfather—a man who, by all accounts, lacked the sense of humanity that temperedmost other people’s behavior—was still seated on the other side of therestaurant, chatting smoothly with his red-haired companion.

Ander, ofcourse, had taken the seat where he would be in direct view of his father. Hewouldn’t even retreat a small step for self-preservation and sit with his backto his father’s table. His features were composed now, and his hands andshoulders relaxed as he dropped his napkin on his lap and sipped his scotch.

But Lori wasn’tfooled for an instant. Ander was practically shuddering with an angst that wasbrutally leashed. She could see it in the slight sheen on his forehead. In thetightening of his lips. In the stony blankness of his eyes.

They fakedtheir way through casual conversation, gave their orders, and accepted a seconddrink from their obviously concerned host. And Lori grew more and more stressedas dinner progressed. Ander’s hidden tension grew increasingly urgent—shesensed it even without visible signs—and soon she was afraid he would simplyimplode as he sat across from her at the table.

Peter and hiscompanion ordered and then finished dessert. But they still wouldn’t get up andleave. Lori didn’t have to look behind her to be aware of Peter’s continued,silently taunting presence in the room. All she had to do was look at Ander’sempty face.

Their foodarrived, which was a relief to Lori. She planned to gobble down her pasta andget them out of there as soon as she could. The food was delicious but shewasn’t very hungry, so swallowing each bite was a challenge.

When she saw Ander’sshoulders stiffen, she knew something was going to happen. A slight turn of herhead revealed what.

Peter’scompanion must have gone to the restroom as they got up to leave. And Peterhimself, elegant and sophisticated in a pale gray suit, was even nowapproaching their table.

Lori’s mouthfell open in pained shock. Her pulse pounded frantically in her chest, her headand her fingertips. Peter Milton had disowned his own son. Surely he wasn't nowgoing to make a scene by twisting the knife in the wound.

Ander stood up,clearly so that his father couldn’t look down on him.

Peter’s lipscurled up in an arrogant, satisfied smiled. “Ander,” he said, “Working, I see.”His cold hazel eyes cut over to Lori, dismissed her with no more than a flickerof his eyelashes. “I’ll admit to being surprised by the altered nature of yourclientele. I’d understood you drew clients from the highest ranks of taste,intelligence, and social standing.”

Lori blinked insurprise. She would have assumed that Peter’s first verbal thrust would be adeep one, an attempt to strike Ander where he was most vulnerable. Instead,he’d insultedher, which—while annoying—wouldn't result in lastingdamage.

---