a millennium, he shakes his head, and he smirks.

“I would probably have gone the way of my birth mother, had it not been for Mrs.

Robinson.”

Oh! I blink at him. Crack addict or whore? Possibly both?

“She loved me in a way I found… acceptable,” he adds with a shrug.

What the hell does that mean?

“Acceptable?” I whisper.

“Yes.” He stares intently at me. “She distracted me from the destructive path I found

myself following. It’s very hard to grow up in a perfect family when you’re not perfect.”

Oh no.My mouth dries as I digest his words. He gazes as me, his expression unfath-

omable. He’s not going to tell me any more. How frustrating. Inside, I’m reeling – he

sounds so full of self-loathing. And Mrs. Robinson loved him. Holy shit… does she still?

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.

“Does she still love you?”

“I don’t think so, not like that.” He frowns as if he hasn’t thought about the idea. “I

keep telling you it was a long time ago. It’s in the past. I couldn’t change it even if I

wanted to, which I don’t. She saved me from myself.” He’s exasperated and runs a wet

hand through his hair. “I’ve never discussed this with anyone.” He pauses, “Except Dr.

Flynn, of course. And the only reason I’m talking about this now, to you, is because I want

you to trust me.”

“I do trust you, but I do want to know you better, and whenever I try to talk to you, you

distract me. There’s so much I want to know.”

“Oh for pity’s sake, Anastasia. What do you want to know? What do I have to do?” His

eyes blaze, and though he doesn’t raise his voice, I know he’s trying to rein in his temper.

I glance quickly down at my hands, clear beneath the water as the bubbles have started

to disperse.

“I’m just trying to understand, you’re such an enigma. Unlike anyone I’ve met before.

I’m glad you’re telling me what I want to know.”

Jeez – maybe it’s the Cosmopolitans making me brave, but suddenly I cannot bear the

distance between us. I move through the water to his side and lean against him so we’re

touching, skin to skin. He tenses and eyes me warily, as if I might bite. Well, that’s a turn-

around.My inner goddess gazes at him in quiet, surprised speculation.

“Please don’t be angry with me,” I whisper.

“I am not angry with you, Anastasia. I’m just not used to this kind of talking – this

probing. I only have this with Dr. Flynn and with–” He stops and frowns.

“With her. Mrs. Robinson. You talk to her?” I prompt, trying to rein in my own temper.

“Yes, I do.”

“What about?”

He shifts in the bath so that he’s facing me, causing the water to lap over the sides onto

the floor. He places his arm around my shoulders, resting on the ledge of the bath.

“Persistent aren’t you?” he murmurs, a trace of irritation in his voice. “Life, the uni-

verse – business. Anastasia, Mrs. R and I go way back. We can discuss anything.”

“Me?” I whisper.

“Yes.” Gray eyes watch me carefully.

I bite my bottom lip, trying to curb the sudden rush of anger that surfaces.

“Why do you talk about me?” I endeavor not to sound whiney and petulant, but I don’t

succeed. I know I should stop. I am pushing him too hard. My subconscious has her Ed-

vard Munch face on again.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Anastasia.”

“What does that mean? Anyone who just didn’t automatically sign your paperwork,

no questions asked?”

He shakes his head.

“I need advice.”

“And you take advice from Mrs. Paedo?” I snap. The hold on my temper is more tenta-

tive than I thought.

“Anastasia – enough,” he snaps back sternly, his eyes narrowing.

I’m skating on thin ice, and I’m heading into danger. “Or I’ll put you across my knee.

I have no sexual or romantic interest in her whatsoever. She’s a dear, valued friend and a

business partner. That’s all. We have a past, a shared history, which was monumentally

beneficial for me, though it fucked up her marriage – but that side of our relationship is

over.”

Jeez – another part I just can’t understand. She was married as well. How did they get

away with it for so long?

“And your parents never found out?”

“No,” he growls. “I’ve told you this.”

And I know that’s it. I cannot ask him any further questions about her because he will

lose it with me.

“Are you done?” he snaps.

“For now.”

He takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes in front of me, like a great weight is lifted

from his shoulders or something.

“Right – my turn,” he mutters, and his glare turns steely, speculative. “You haven’t

responded to my email.”

I flush. Oh, I hate the spotlight on me, and it seems he’s going to get angry every time

we have a discussion. I shake my head. Perhaps that’s how he feels about my questions,

he’s not used to being challenged. The thought is revelatory, distracting, and unnerving.

“I was going to respond. But now you’re here.”

“You’d rather I wasn’t?” he breathes, his expression impassive again.

“No, I’m pleased,” I murmur.

“Good.” He gives me a genuine, relieved smile. “I’m pleased I’m here too – in spite of

your interrogation. So, while it’s acceptable to grill me, you think you can claim some kind

of diplomatic immunity just because I’ve flown all this way to see you? I’m not buying it,

Miss Steele. I want to know how you feel.”

Oh no…

“I told you. I am pleased you’re here. Thank you for coming all this way,” I say feebly.

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Steele.” His eyes shine as he leans down and kisses me gently.

I feel myself responding automatically. The water is still warm, the bathroom still steamy.

He stops and pulls back, gazing down at me.

“No. I think I want some answers first before we do any more.”

More?There’s that word again. And he wants answers… answers to what? I don’t

have a secret past – I don’t have a harrowing childhood. What could he possibly want to

know about me that he doesn’t already know?

I sigh, resigned.

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, how you feel about our would-be arrangement, for starters.”

I blink at him. Truth or dare time – my subconscious and inner goddess glance ner-

vously at one another. Hell, let’s go for truth.

“I don’t think I can do it for an extended period of time. A whole weekend being some-

one I’m not.” I flush and stare at my hands.

He tips my chin up, and he’s smirking at me, amused.

“No, I don’t think you could either.”

And part of me feels slightly affronted and challenged.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes, but in a good way,” he says with a small smile.

He leans down and kisses me softly, briefly.

“You’re not a great submissive,” he breathes as he holds my chin, his eyes dancing

with humor.

I stare at him shocked, then I burst out laughing – and he joins me.

“Maybe I don’t have a good teacher.”

He snorts.

“Maybe. Perhaps I should be stricter with you.” He cocks his head to one side and

gives me an artful smile.

I swallow. Jeez, no. But at the same time, my muscles clench deliciously deep inside.

It is his way of showing that he cares. Perhaps the only way he can show he cares – I real-

ize that. He’s staring at me, gauging my reaction.

“Was it that bad when I spanked you the first time?”

I gaze back at him, blinking. Was it that bad?I remember feeling confused by my

reaction. It hurt, but not that much in retrospect. He’s said over and over again it’s more

in my head. And the second time… Well, that was good… hot.