Chapter 31
T he way Lex tugs me closer to him is almost instinctive. And it doesn’t make what’s about to happen any better.
Although I know very little about Mr. Coleman, I didn’t expect him to look like this. Maybe it’s because I’m biased and can see so much of Lex in his wrinkled features, but while Miriam Coleman’s bitchiness is all over her face, Richard Coleman has something endearing to him. But I’m not letting that fool me.
Since Lex doesn’t say a thing, still protectively holding me close to him, his father takes it upon himself to get the introductions he wants.
“You must be Miss Walker,” he says, offering his hand.
I reluctantly shake it. “Mr. Coleman, I didn’t know you would be among us.”
“And we didn’t know you would be either. I imagine this makes you much more official than we’ve been led to understand.”
Lex chooses this moment to step in and says, “I don’t know how I could have made her any more official than I did. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were on our way out.”
“It’s still so early,” Mrs. Coleman counters. “Walk us back to our table, would you? Bethany has been asking about you, Alexander. She would love to catch up for a moment.”
“Maybe another time,” he tells his mother.
“Oh, come on. It’ll only be a minute.” She hooks her arm around her son’s, leaving no room for discussion, and leads the way toward their table. I’m left with his father, crossing my arms to deter him from offering his. He walks slowly, probably because of his age, so they distance us fast.
“I’m told my son is smitten with you?” he asks.
“Smitten is an understatement. ”
“Human emotions were never Alexander’s thing, so this is new to us.”
I do my best to hide the massive frown that wants to twist my brows. “Lex has multitudes of emotions,” I counter. “I’ve come to realize he actually cares deeply about things—more than most people I know.”
There’s a moment of silence as we slowly advance through the tables.
“Are you taking his defense to keep up the appearances?” Mr. Coleman asks.
“What appearances?”
“The ones hiding why you’re dating my son.”
I’m so shocked by his words that I stop in my tracks. “And why am I dating him, Mr. Coleman?” I ask, sensing anger slowly rising in me.
“I’ve had people look into your family, and it seems none of you are after a green card. So, the answer is obvious, isn’t it? Money.”
I stare at him, incredulous and appalled. “What do you mean, you had people look into my family?”
“If he ever lets go of his ridiculous pet project, Alexander is meant to inherit my company. You’ll understand my wife and I aren’t letting just anyone get close to him.”
I always thought Lex was emotionally broken because of his parents, but I’m realizing he’s as amazing as he is despite them.
“Isn’t it your father’s company?” I counter.
He doesn’t like that reminder. At all. “I have run it for almost twenty years, and I will soon inherit it. And one day, Alexander will, too.”
“Well, your son made it very clear to me that he doesn’t want anything to do with it. So, believe it or not, I’m with him because of who he is, not because I need a green card or your money.”
He pauses, studying me with his unsettlingly familiar eyes. “Miss Walker, you genuinely want me to believe you met my son and thought, ‘this cold, autistic man is exactly what I need?’”
His words feel like a violent blow. Not because of what they imply about me, but because of what they reveal about Lex.
It’s been right in front of me the entire time. His focused interest on certain matters and disinterest in others. His struggle to understand non-verbal cues. His OCPD and repetitive daily routine. His single-minded focus. His food aversions and hatred of some textures. The way he cuts the labels off his T-shirts. Or how he gets overwhelmed when there’s too much activity, like on a plane or in a crowd. Even his aversion to small talk was a huge giveaway.
Lex is on the autism spectrum.
Of course he is .
It was right there, in every aspect of him, but I never figured it out. That makes me an awful girlfriend, doesn’t it? I didn’t notice something so painfully obvious about the man I claim to love more than life itself.
“Listen, Miss Walker,” Mr. Coleman coldly continues. “My wife is very upset about your involvement with our son, and there’s only so much nagging I can take. So, let’s discuss a number that might fix the issue.”
I force myself out of my tumultuous thoughts to ask, “A number?”
“How much money will it take for you to stay away from Alexander?”
“Who do you think you are?” I ask, insulted by his offer.
“A man willing to pay five million dollars for the sake of his family’s wellbeing. That’s a five followed by six zeros, Miss Walker.”
I don’t think I’ve ever met a man as vile as him. In fact, I know I haven’t. Lex has half his genes and half his mother’s, which makes no sense whatsoever. What miracle happened there for my baby to be the person he is despite starting with such a massive disadvantage?
“You can add as many zeros as you want behind that five, my answer will remain the same: No. That’s an ‘N’ followed by one ‘O,’” I answer with contained anger.
My refusal to cooperate displeases him, and a dark flash passes in his irises. I’ve seen that exact look many times, so I know nothing good will come from it.
“You’re nothing more than another hiccup, Miss Walker. An insignificant inconvenience I have to deal with. Five million is far more than you deserve for tricking my retarded son into a relationship, and if you think you can—”
My hand flies before I can do anything to hold it back. Anger like I never experienced before blinds me, and I don’t realize what I’m doing until pain bites my palm. The loud clap of it colliding into his cheek is deafening—as if echoing in the sudden silence that surrounds us.
Shaking with rage, I stare at Mr. Coleman’s stunned face. “You can make all the assumptions you want about me, you fucking asshole, and can call me a money-hungry whore, or a green card-seeking illegal, but I will not let you call him that ,” I wrathfully utter.
His eyes turn lethal, and that’s when the weight of what I just did hits me. Fuck. I slapped an old man in front of hundreds of people.
Looking at the crowd surrounding us, I’m mortified to see we’re the center of everyone’s attention. When my eyes find Lex’s familiar face staring at me with shock, my heart drops low in my stomach.
I don’t belong here. And never will. These aren’t my people. They’re Lex’s. Why did I ever think I could fit into his world ?
Fuck, I don’t even belong with him, do I? I never even realized he was on the spectrum, and it makes me feel like I don’t deserve him. How could I when I don’t know something so fundamental about who he is, at his very core? I don’t know him as well as I claim to, and it feels like a failure.
Tears fill my eyes with shame for both that and what I did in front of such an illustrious crowd. I don’t know what to do or how to salvage this. All I know is I should have never been here to start with.
So when Lex takes a step toward me, I turn around and run away, like a fucking coward. Because what else can I do?
A lthough I have no idea what the fuck happened, I know Andrea too well to blame her for it. Especially since I also know my father.
That’s why I fist the starched fabric of his dress shirt as I pass him on my way to catch up with her. “Next time I see you within ten feet of her, you’re getting a lot more than a slap, you old cunt. Stay the fuck away from her, you hear me?!” I threateningly groan.
Then I let him go, uninterested in what he might answer, to rush after the most important person in this entire fucking room. I ignore the side looks as I elbow my way through the crowd. We’ve reached the end of the gala, so my way is encumbered by departing guests. And while Andrea is small and can easily slip between them, I struggle to get through.
That’s why I only catch up with her when she’s already in the hotel’s lobby, waiting for her things at the coat check. When she sees me, she tightens her arms in front of her and takes a step back.
“I’m so sorry,” she pleads, on the verge of tears. “I swear I didn’t mean to do it. I promise, but he—”
“I know, my love, I know.”
I wrap her in my embrace to help contain her shaking, and she breaks down into tears. “I didn’t want to cause a scene,” she sobs into my chest. People look at us with unmasked curiosity, so I pull her to the side, near a cluster of potted plants. “He accused me of so many things, but I stayed calm. And then he called you a—” Whatever word my father said is lost in a series of sobs, and I hold on to her tighter.
“Did it start with an R?” I ask softly.
She nods, sniffing. “Yes, and I-I lost it. I’m so sorry I did, but I couldn’t let him say that and—”
“It’s alright, freckles. I’ve gotten used to it over the years, but I understand why you reacted like that.”
“You’re used to it?” she asks between two hiccups.
“Yeah, it’s his favorite word for me.”
That only worsens her tears. “Baby, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve me not realizing either. I should have known.”
“Known what?”
“That you’re autistic. I’m so sorry I didn’t realize, Lex. I feel so fucking stupid for it.”
I tense, still holding her close. So, she knows. It’s been a long time coming, and I’ve waited for her to realize since the day we met. When our feelings began developing, I didn’t tell her because I worried it might scare her away. What if she realized the way I am is embedded in my brain, and I can’t change it despite trying? It used to gnaw at my stomach—the worry she’d find out and leave me because of it. But she knows me by now, she accepted who I am, and she loves all of me.
Everything she learned about me was never an issue. In fact, she always wanted more of the real me. So, I stopped masking around her. Or at least I tried as much as I could after two decades of it—which blurred the distinctions between what’s actually me and what’s essentially a defense mechanism.
But it never feels like that with her, so, aside from the times I take a moment to think of an answer not to offend or hurt her, everything has been the real, unfiltered me. And it has been liberating. I didn’t hide my autism from her, but I didn’t disclose it either. She’s always been okay with all its implications anyway, so what would have been the point? And it would have been strange to mention it so late into the relationship.
That is why I’m not terrified at the thought of her knowing it. She did without realizing, and I don’t think it’ll cause a problem. Not anymore. Not when she constantly shows how much she appreciates my brain.
“Are you guys alright?” Eva asks, suddenly appearing with us. “I heard what happened, and I—”
“We need somewhere private,” I tell her, still holding a sobbing Andrea.
“Of course. The manager’s office is right down that hallway. I’ll open it for you.”
Andrea pulls away, her pretty makeup smeared around her eyes and down her cheeks. “Come on, my love,” I whisper.
I hold her close as we follow Eva, who uses a magnetic card to unlock the door. She holds it wide open for us. We enter the office while she stays out, and I turn to say, “Thank you. I’m sorry for the mess. ”
“It’s fine. I’ve wanted to slap your father many times, so I’m really glad Andy did.”
That makes Andrea giggle between her small sobs before she returns her teary face to my chest. “You should go back, Eva,” I say. “Thank you again for the room.”
“No problem,” she nods before closing the door, isolating us from the world.
There’s a couch along a wall, so I pick Andrea up and head there. I sit on the cushioned seat and settle her on my lap, holding her close to my chest as she slowly calms down.
“Are you feeling better?” I ask once her sobs are almost gone.
“No. I made a fool of myself in front of everyone. And I can never see your parents again, which makes our future together really complicated.”
“I only see them because of my sisters, so that’s fine.”
“How can you even stand being in the same room as him?” she asks, wiping her cheeks.
“You want to know my secret?” She nods, sniffing. “I own him.”
That distracts her from her tears as she stares at me, puzzled.
“When we realized we couldn’t keep the money from Eva’s father because of the annulment, I built a deep learning trading algorithm. It not only analyzed stock charts but also processed real-time news, global economic indicators, and investor behaviors in microseconds. Kev and I put everything we had left into it and let it run. Within three weeks, it had tripled our money. And as I kept refining the model, the returns accelerated. In two months, we had over fifteen times our initial stake.”
“Oh, wow …”
“That gave us the money to start Kelex. I let the algorithm run to ensure we had enough to sustain ourselves for a while. I diversified across crypto, forex, and high-frequency stock trades. I used everything I learned from the business degree my father forced me to get. Within the first year, we had enough to sustain Kelex for a decade. So, I reprogrammed it to start acquiring Coleman Inc. stock. It solely generates profits to continuously buy more.”
She looks adorable with her red nose and puzzled frown, so I tug her closer. “How much of it do you own?” she wonders.
“I didn’t want my father figuring it out, so I structured it across multiple holding companies and offshore funds to avoid scrutiny. Between those and my personal shares, I own about forty-three percent of the Coleman empire.”
Her expression shifts from confusion to shock. “But that—that would make you a billionaire, right?”
“Yes. Twenty-two point five billion. And counting. ”
Her jaw drops. “You very specifically told me you had eighteen million, Alexander.”
“‘As an individual,’ yes. The rest is held under my companies and offshore accounts.”
That doesn’t help, it seems, as she tries to slither off my lap. I prevent it, keeping her firmly trapped in my arms. When she understands she won’t get away, she disappointedly grunts. “How many more things are you hiding from me?”
“I genuinely think you’re all caught up now. I’m a billionaire who was married for a week nine years ago, and I used to call myself Nammota and hack as a hobby. Oh, and I’m autistic.”
She looks down at my bow tie, visibly uneasy about that last one. I told myself she might not care, but maybe I was wrong.
“I should have guessed that last thing,” she says sheepishly.
“I think I didn’t want you to.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate that part of myself so much, I couldn’t see how you could keep loving me once you knew.”
I’m the one avoiding her gaze now, so she frames my face to force my eyes to meet hers. “Baby, there’s nothing to hate. Why would you even think that?”
“Shelly says I’ve been conditioned by the way my parents treated me. They punished me for things out of my control, locked me in my room when I had episodes, called me demeaning things when I wasn’t ‘acting normal.’”
“That’s awful, oh my God…”
“They claim they didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I remembered seeing a specialist when I was eight, so I hacked into his files a few years back and discovered he diagnosed me with Asperger’s syndrome—now known as Autism Spectrum Disorder. It took Lucy, who had started her medical studies, to bring it to light and slow the abuse when I was twelve.”
She wriggles closer, wrapping her arms around me. “ Mi amor , I’m so sorry…”
“It’s alright. The behavior therapy helped a lot, and then Lucy pushed for them to send me with her. She also helped me a lot. Then I started working with Shelly when I moved to California.”
“I feel so stupid for not knowing,” Andrea says, her eyes watering again.
“But you knew. You know every single part of me, the good and the bad, and you simply never felt the need to label it.”
“I guess I’ll have a better understanding of you now. When you act in certain ways, I’ll know it’s because it’s how your brain is wired. ”
“I’m a grown adult. My actions are my own, and I don’t blame them on my autism.”
“It doesn’t justify what you do, but it explains why you do it.”
I squeeze her gently before saying, “I’m sorry I can’t be a better man for you, freckles.”
She pushes herself away, meeting my eyes with a frown. “What are you even talking about? I know everything I need to know about you, Lex. Because there’s suddenly a word for it doesn’t change how much I love you. You’re still the most incredible man I know. I wouldn’t change you for the world—especially not your brain.”
“You mean that, don’t you?”
She nods vehemently. “I love your brain as much as you love my fat ass and my small tits. With no bottom and no cap to it.”
I chuckle, which makes her shake above me. “And can you love me despite being a filthy rich billionaire?”
“That’s another issue. But I think I can learn to live with it.”
“Most people would think my money is my best asset.”
“It’s all the way down on my list.”
“What’s on top of it, then?”
We’re officially out of that tense moment as she wraps amorous arms around me, staring into my eyes with a little mischief. “As we just established, your brain—which never ceases to amaze me. And your humor.” She passes a hand through my neatly combed hair, messing it up a little. “I love your eyes and that dashing face of yours. I can never grow tired of looking at you.”
Running her hands down my chest, she soothes my evening shirt. “I love your body, your amazing set of abs, those strong arms… And I love your butt, so much.”
I chuckle again. “As you well know, I love your butt so much, too. Anything else you love about me?”
Biting on her lower lip, she moves enough to slip a hand between us, molding it over the fastening of my dress pants. “I also love your thick, long, and hard dick,” she concludes.
My cock answers the compliment by twitching under her palm. “Fuck, I’d kiss you if I could.”
“I think it’s safe to say my makeup is ruined by now. It’s not a kiss that’ll—”
My lips are on hers before she can even finish her sentence. I kiss her like I’ve wanted to the whole evening, letting loose, claiming everything that’s mine. My fucking woman. My perfect dork.
When my hand slithers between her legs, to the bare expense of her pussy, she wriggles away. “Not here, baby. Eva could come back and check on us at any time. ”
“Wouldn’t you like that?” I ask, kissing the pulsing vein at the base of her throat.
“No, it would be cruel,” Andrea protests, slipping away from my lap. “Come on, baby, you’ll ravish me in your bed. And you’re keeping the bow tie on,” she decides, offering her hand to help me up. I comply, and she adds, “Your hyperfocus during sex is another very huge clue. Seriously, how did I not know?!”
“You never thought something was wrong with me, so you never looked for it.”
“Still don’t, never will.”
That, for some reason, makes me feel like we were fated to be more than anything else. How else could she be so fucking perfect for me otherwise?
“Alright, let’s get home to get your hair wet and back to curly.”
“Just my hair?” she humors.
“We’ll start with the hair, then I’ll work on the rest of you, my love.”
“ B aby?” Andrea whispers in the dark of my bedroom.
Given how thoroughly I thanked her for her acceptance and how much she loved me in that bow tie, I expected her to be asleep. But I was wrong.
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Of course,” I murmur after a couple of seconds.
She thinks about what she wants to ask first, her fingertips dancing in the hair on my chest. “Is there anything that’s overwhelming for you? So I try not to do it too much?”
“I have a bit of everything. But it takes a lot for me to reach sensory overload. I get agitated sometimes, but it’s nothing like when I was unable to channel it as a child. I mostly get snappy and rude. Sound is the most triggering for me, which is why I hate airplanes. The constant noise is exhausting. I also prefer silence over music.”
“I’m noisy as fuck, so you have to tell me when I’m being too much,” she insists.
“But that’s the strangest thing. You’re never too much. You do many things I have disliked my entire life, but I don’t mind them with you. Touch, for instance,” I say, caressing her hand on my chest, “isn’t something I’ve ever been fond of, but when it’s you, I not only bear it, I actually adore it. Your touch sometimes sends sparks under my skin, and I can’t get enough of it.”
Her soft swirls resume as if she wants to give me more of this electric feeling.
“Is it why you wear comfy clothes whenever you’re home?” she cleverly wonders.
“Sportswear is less stimulating, yes. It’s soft and loose, so I don’t notice it as much. I’m also more sensitive to light, so I have blue light blocking glasses. My eyesight isn’t bad—I can work without them—but they help me last longer in front of a screen.”
She remains silent for a moment and then says, “I get why you can’t handle spice at all now. You have a very sensitive sense of taste, don’t you?”
“I do, yes.”
“Then no more chili pepper for you, baby. I’ll make peace with you being a hopeless gringo.”
I chuckle and pinch her ribs for the jab, making her jolt closer to me. “Do you have a stim?” she wonders next.
“Mh-hm. I crack my knuckles. It gives me time to think, something to focus on, and the sensory feedback helps ground me. Whenever one doesn’t pop, it frustrates me, but it’s better than nothing. I used to do it a lot more, but it annoyed my mother, so I learned to control the urge.”
“I noticed it, but I never realized it was a stim…” There’s a brief pause before she asks, “Are comics a special interest?”
“My very first one, yes. It actually helped with the second diagnosis. Then computers and programming came along and eventually took over. And then—” I stop abruptly, realizing what I was about to say.
“And then what?” she asks.
“I don’t… want to worry you.”
“Tell me, Lex.”
“You came very close to becoming a special interest. I had to constantly keep myself in check so I wouldn’t… stalk you online.”
She rises onto her elbow as if she could see me better in the darkness. “Have you ever done it?”
“No. I checked your social media profiles once but never went further than that.”
“So, you never hacked into my webcam to watch me stroll around naked in my room or something?”
I snort, amused by the flirtiness in her voice. “Would you have liked that?”
“Are you kidding? The great Nammota watching me, maybe even stroking himself while doing it… I’d have bent over right in front of the camera just for you, baby,” she teases .
“Then I definitely would have stroked myself.”
“We’ll play it out one day,” she determinedly says, returning her temple to my chest.
Silence falls around us again, and I think she’s done with her questions. But her small voice breaks through the stillness again when she asks, “Do you think you sisters will hate me for what I did to your father?”
My sweet girl… “No. And if they call to ask for details, I’ll make sure they know he deserved it.”
“He tried to pay me to stay away from you,” she confesses after a moment.
“What?!”
“Yeah, you’re worth five million. Or his peace of mind is. Or am I? I’m not sure how that works.”
I groan, tightening my arm around her shoulders. “I should have punched him in the face when I had the chance.”
“That old fart had enough for one evening. Imagine if he dies before your grandfather does,” she adds, very amused. “He’d never get the company he so desperately wants. Maybe we should make that happen, actually.”
“I like the way you think, Walker.”
“There had to be a reason I fell for an evil mastermind, you know?”
I laugh again, my chest so full it almost hurts. “God, how I love you,” I breathe out.
“Ditto, baby. Every single part of you—down to the last brain cell.”
And there isn’t a single doubt in my heart that she means it. Because I know the exact feeling.