’ She pauses. ‘But we could have an affair.’ Ben can’t believe what he’s hearing. ‘You could do that?’ ‘Had you asked me a few years ...go, I’d have said no. At this point? Probably. At the very least, I’m willing to try.’ She rubs her hand over his crotch once again. ‘Are you game?’ Ben doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls her into his arms again, his way of dodging her question, of avoiding telling her about the state of moral ambiguity he finds himself in. After another heavy smooth, replete. He entered his code and the screen flashedbriefly, resolving into a simple typed message: ?Please meet Mr. DominicD'Attillio at Le Caveau Restaurant at 12:00 noon today for lunch. It is a matter of someimportance.? Michael stared at thescreen. Dominic D'Attillio? He had never heard of the guy. Typing swiftly, hebrought up the mail headers for more information, but the sender's address washidden. His curiosity aroused, he started typing faster, attempting to discovermore about the message.. More

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