Page 42 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal

"I've been meaning to tell you," he said as we loaded plates into the dishwasher. "Blake is coming to the office tomorrow."

"Blake?"

"My son. He's graduating this spring and interested in joining the company. I thought you might like to meet him."

I nearly dropped the plate I was holding. "You want me to meet your son?" My throat constricted and I had to choke the words out.

"He'll be working closely with the analysts if he joins us. It makes sense for him to meet the team."

But we both knew that wasn't the real reason.

Meeting his children was different from meeting clients or colleagues.

It was personal. Real.

So far from "no strings" that it could be mistaken that there really was a relationship between us, but I didn't point that out.

"Of course," I managed. "I'd be happy to meet him."

"Good. We'll have lunch, the three of us. Keep it casual."

Casual. Right. There was nothing remotely casual about being introduced to the son of the man I'd been sleeping with for months.

"What should I expect?" I asked.

"Blake is… complicated. He's intelligent, ambitious, but he has some resentment about the divorce. About my choosing work over family." Lucian's voice was still just as cold, colder maybe than it had been all night. "He might not be entirely welcoming at first."

"And you want me there because…?"

"Because you're part of the analyst team now."

The explanation felt incomplete, but I didn't press. The evening had already been confusing enough without adding more complications.

"I should head home," I said, glancing at the clock. "Early morning tomorrow."

"I'll call you a car."

"The train is fine?—"

"I'll call you a car, Tessa."

There it was again, that tone he took with me, and it left no space to argue with him. But now it felt less protective and more dismissive.

As we waited for the driver, I found myself studying his profile. The sharp line of his jaw, the silver at his temples, the way his expensive shirt fit perfectly across his shoulders.

He was beautiful, successful, sophisticated. Everything I'd ever found attractive in a man. But I couldn’t have him. This dinner had proven that to me.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I said, gathering my coat. He didn't lean in to kiss me or ask me to stay and help him relieve stress.

He didn't even seem disappointed that I was leaving, though my soul felt crushed for some reason. I told myself I wouldn’t have this reaction if things ended, but here I was, feeling utterly rejected.

"See you tomorrow," he said as he shut the door behind me, and I wondered when he was going to ask for his key back.

The elevator ride down had felt endless, my mind spinning with questions I couldn't answer.

The fertility clinic research. His cold reaction to my timeline. The invitation to meet Blake.

None of it made sense together. None of it felt coherent.