Page 38 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal

Unless she didn’t want it from me. Maybe the thought of being that connected to me for almost twenty years of life was too much for her.

My hands clenched around my phone. The thought of her carrying another man's child—even an anonymous donor's—made something primitive roar in protest.

But alongside the anger was a deeper pain.

She was preparing for a future where our arrangement ended. One where I'd be left behind and alone again. And much worse, she didn’t see this "friendship" as being safe for her to admit it to me.

She glanced up and caught me looking. Color drained from her face as she realized what I'd seen. The laptop snapped shut.

"It's not what you think," she said quickly.

But it was exactly what I thought. She was making plans that didn't include me.

"You don't owe me explanations," I managed, turning back to my phone. I barely controlled my tone, and maybe she knew simply because of the expression on my face, but I was hurt.

"Lucian—"

"It's fine, Tessa. You should explore all your options." I plastered a fake plastic smile on my face and tried like hell to reassure her.

If I were any friend at all, I would support her, not be petty and selfish.

No, I didn’t want her doing that, but we had agreed to no-strings, and I had no right to discourage her.

She deserved someone who could give her everything—marriage, children, a future without my baggage. Someone who hadn't already failed at fatherhood once.

But knowing she deserved better didn't make it hurt less to see her planning for it.

And it sure as hell didn't explain why the thought of her having someone else's baby made me want to punch the airplane window.

She sighed softly and turned to look out the window. Maybe she realized there was no point in hashing things out on this plane, or maybe she feared someone would overhear us talking and somehow, it would get out that we weren't just here on business.

Either way, I was losing my mind over a woman barely older than my own children. A woman smart enough to know she could do better than a damaged man closing in on fifty.

The worst part was, she was absolutely right to plan for a life without me.

I just wished it didn't feel like she was ripping my heart out in the process.

11

TESSA

Mochi knocked over my coffee mug while I was trying to pay bills at my tiny kitchen table.

The dark liquid spread across my laptop keyboard before I could grab it, and I watched in horror as the screen flickered and died.

"Perfect," I muttered, dabbing at the mess with paper towels. "Just perfect."

My cat sat back on his haunches, tail twitching with what looked suspiciously similar to satisfaction.

He'd been acting out ever since I'd started spending nights at Lucian's penthouse, and apparently, my extended absence in Boston had pushed him over the edge.

The apartment felt cramped after five days in luxury hotels, my thrifted furniture looking shabbier than usual this February, though my Christmas lights still flickered over doorways.

If Mom showed up, she would tell me to take them down and force me into a furniture store where her "keeping up with the Joneses" disease would kick in.

But I was back to reality and my routine felt comfortable. Until the laptop wouldn’t turn back on, it made me rememberhow Lucian had seen my inadvertent browser slip and the IVF clinic I'd been researching became public knowledge.

The memory made my stomach clench. Lucian's face when he'd seen my laptop screen—the flash of something I couldn't identify before he'd shut down completely.