Wait

A good guy would probably spill the beans now and not take advantage of a drunken Mrs. Fellers. Equally possibly, a smart guy would do the same realizing that Mrs. Fellers was going to be pissed as hell when she found out. But Matt figured a realistic guy would keep his damned mouth shut.

Mrs. Fellers had asked him how committed he was to his project but she hadn't said anything about her own commitment, which made sense. Why should she be committed to something she knew nothing about? But without her commitment, he had nothing. He needed Mrs. Fellers to actively back off her relentless persecution of his business and for that, he needed her completely committed. Bringing her in on his identity now seemed like taking a huge risk with a low probability of success. Besides, it almost certainly wouldn't increase his chances of getting laid. And, after everything, if Mrs. Fellers wouldn't back off, at least when he went to jail, he'd go there with the knowledge he'd banged the bitch who'd put him there. For now, though, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Mrs. Fellers had some weird political beliefs but so did about half the country. She might spout some eugenics nonsense but, again, that wasn't completely uncommon even among educated people who should know better. And, as far as he could tell, a lot of her motivation was protecting her family. That was one motivation that Matt could completely identify with.

"I, ah, I'm not sure I can afford the hotel," Matt admitted.

"Don't worry, honey." Mrs. Fellers stroked his arm again. "I've got you covered. You can pay me back out of your first million."

Yeah, right. As if kids from the inner city earned millions. Pretty much all of those supposed self-made billionaires the world made so much about came from privilege. Dropping out of Harvard to start a business might sound romantic and entrepreneurial but anyone who got into Harvard didn't have to worry about whether they'd be homeless next week. (And yes, Bezos went to Princeton not Harvard and Jobs had gone to Reed but the same basic rules applied).

Still, he manufactured a grin, smiled when Mrs. Fellers put her hand on his ass, and grabbed a couple more glasses of wine from his new best friend the waiter on the way out.

"Very thoughtful," Mrs. Fellers said when he handed one to her. "Now let's get somewhere comfortable where we can... feel out the opportunities."

Feeling out opportunities sounded good. Assuming that those opportunities included Mrs. Fellers's tits, ass, and pussy.