Grey (44 page)

“And two more Cosmos, please,” Ana adds, with an anxious look at me.

She's right to be anxious. I think she's had enough to drink already.

“Please pull up a chair, Christian.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Adams.”

I do as she asks, and sit down beside Ana.

“So you just happen to be staying in the hotel where we're drinking?” Ana's tone is tense.

“Or you just happen to be drinking in the hotel where I'm staying. I just finished dinner, came in here, and saw you. I was distracted, thinking about your most recent e-mail”—I give her a pointed look—“and I glance up and there you are. Quite a coincidence, eh?”

Ana looks flustered. “My mother and I were shopping this morning and on the beach this afternoon. We decided on a few cocktails this evening,” she says hurriedly, as if she has to justify drinking in a bar with her mother.

“Did you buy that top?” I ask. She really does look stunning. Her camisole is emerald green; I've made the right choices—gem
colors—for the clothes Caroline Acton has selected for her. “The color suits you. And you've caught some sun. You look lovely.” Her cheeks color and her lips lift at my compliment. “Well, I was going to pay you a visit tomorrow. But here you are.” I take her hand, because I want to touch her, and I give it a gentle squeeze. Slowly I caress her knuckles with my thumb, and her breathing alters.

Yes, Ana. Feel it.

Don't be mad at me.

Her eyes meet mine, and I'm rewarded with her coy smile.

“I thought I'd surprise you. But as ever, Anastasia, you surprise me by being here. I don't want to interrupt the time you have with your mother. I'll have a quick drink and then retire. I have work to do.” I resist kissing her knuckles. I don't know what she's said to her mother about us, if anything.

“Christian, it's lovely to meet you finally. Ana has spoken very fondly of you,” Mrs. Adams says, with a charming smile.

“Really?” I glance at Ana, who's blushing.

Fondly, eh?

This is good news.

The waiter places my gin and tonic in front of me.

“Hendrick's, sir.”

“Thank you.”

He serves Ana and her mother fresh Cosmopolitans.

“How long are you in Georgia, Christian?” her mom asks.

“Until Friday, Mrs. Adams.”

“Will you have dinner with us tomorrow evening? And please, call me Carla.”

“I'd be delighted to, Carla.”

“Excellent,” she says. “If you two will excuse me, I need to visit the restroom.”

Hasn't she just been to the restroom?

I stand as she leaves, then sit down again to face the wrath of Miss Steele. I take her hand once more. “So, you're mad at me for having dinner with an old friend.” I kiss each knuckle.

“Yes.” She's curt.

Is she jealous?

“Our sexual relationship was over long ago, Anastasia. I don't want anyone but you. Haven't you worked that out yet?”

“I think of her as a child molester, Christian.”

My scalp tingles in shock. “That's very judgmental. It wasn't like that.” I release her hand in frustration.

“Oh, how was it, then?” she snaps, sticking out her stubborn little chin.

Is this the drink talking?

She continues, “She took advantage of a vulnerable fifteen-year-old boy. If you had been a fifteen-year-old girl and Mrs. Robinson was a Mr. Robinson, tempting you into a BDSM lifestyle, that would have been okay? If it was Mia, say?”

Oh, now she's being ridiculous. “Ana, it wasn't like that.”

Her eyes flash. She's really angry. Why? This has nothing to do with her. But I don't want a full-blown argument here in the bar. I moderate my voice. “Okay, it didn't feel like that to me. She was a force for good. What I needed.” Good God, I'd probably be dead by now if it wasn't for Elena. I'm struggling to control my temper.

Her brow furrows. “I don't understand.”

Shut her down, Grey.

“Anastasia, your mother will be back shortly. I'm not comfortable talking about this now. Later, maybe. If you don't want me here, I have a plane on standby at Hilton Head. I can go.”

Her expression changes to panic. “No—don't go. Please. I'm thrilled you're here,” she adds quickly.

Thrilled?
You could have fooled me.

“I'm just trying to make you understand,” she says. “I'm angry that as soon as I left, you had dinner with her. Think about how you are when I get anywhere near José. José is a good friend. I have never had a sexual relationship with him. Whereas you and her—”

“You're jealous?”

How can I make her realize that Elena and I are friends? She has nothing to be jealous about.

Clearly, Miss Steele is possessive.

And it takes me a moment to realize that I like that.

“Yes, and angry about what she did to you,” she continues.

“Anastasia, she helped me. That's all I'll say about that. And as for your jealousy, put yourself in my shoes. I haven't had to justify my actions to anyone in the last seven years. Not one person. I do as I wish, Anastasia. I like my autonomy. I didn't go and see Mrs. Robinson to upset you. I went because every now and then we have dinner. She's a friend and a business partner.”

Her eyes widen.

Oh. Didn't I mention that?

Why would I mention that? It's nothing to do with her.

“Yes, we're business partners. The sex is over between us. It has been for years.”

“Why did your relationship end?”

“Her husband found out. Can we talk about this some other time—somewhere more private?”

“I don't think you'll ever convince me that she's not some kind of pedophile.”

Fucking hell, Ana! Enough is enough!

“I don't think of her that way. I never have. Now that's enough!” I growl.

“Did you love her?”

What?

“How are you two getting on?” Carla is back. Ana forces a smile that makes my stomach churn.

“Fine, Mom.”

Did I love Elena?

I take a sip of my drink. I fucking worshipped her…but did I love her? What a ridiculous question. I know nothing about romantic love. That's the hearts-and-flowers shit she wants. The nineteenth-century novels she's read have filled her head with nonsense.

I've had enough.

“Well, ladies, I shall leave you to your evening. Please, put these
drinks on my tab, room number 612. I'll call you in the morning, Anastasia. Until tomorrow, Carla.”

“Oh, it's so nice to hear someone use your full name.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” I shake Carla's hand, sincere about the compliment but not the smile on my face.

Ana is quiet, imploring me with a look that I ignore. I kiss her cheek. “Laters, baby,” I murmur in her ear, then turn and walk through the bar and back down to my room.

That girl provokes me like no one has before.

And she's pissed at me; maybe she has PMS. She said her period was due this week.

I burst into my room, slam the door, and head straight for the balcony. It's warm outside, and I take a deep breath, inhaling the pungent salty scent of the river. Night has fallen, and the river is inky black, like the sky…like my mood. I didn't even get to discuss gliding tomorrow. I rest my hands on the balcony rail. The lights on the shore and the bridge improve the view…but not my temperament.

Why am I defending a relationship that began when Ana was still in fourth grade? It's none of her business. Yes, it was unconventional. But that's all.

I run both hands through my hair. This trip isn't working out how I expected, at all. Perhaps it was a mistake to come down here. And to think it was Elena who encouraged me to make the trip.

My phone buzzes, and I hope it's Ana. It's Ros.

“Yes,” I snap.

“Jeez, Christian. Am I interrupting something?”

“No. Sorry. What's up?”
Calm down, Grey.

“I thought I'd update you on my conversation with Marco. But if now is a bad time, I'll call back in the morning.”

“No, it's fine.”

There's a knock on the door. “Hang on, Ros.” I open it, expecting Taylor or someone from housekeeping to do turndown—but it's Ana, standing in the corridor, looking bashful and beautiful.

She's here.

Opening the door wider, I motion her in.

“All the redundancy packages concluded?” I ask Ros, without taking my eyes off Ana.

“Yes.”

Ana walks into the room, watching me warily, her lips parted and moist, her eyes darkening.
What's this
?
A change of heart?
I know that look. It's desire. She wants me. And I want her, too, especially after our spat in the bar.

Why else would she be here?

“And the cost?” I question Ros.

“Nearly two million.”

I whistle through my teeth. “That was one expensive mistake.”

“GEH gets to exploit the fiber-optic division.” She's right. This was one of our goals.

“And Lucas?” I ask.

“He reacted badly.”

I open the minibar and gesture to Ana to help herself. Leaving her there, I stroll into the bedroom.

“What did he do?”

“He threw a fit.”

In the bathroom I turn on the faucet to run water into the huge sunken marble bath and add some scented bath oil. There's room for six people in here.

“The majority of that money is for him,” I remind Ros as I check the water temperature. “And he has the buyout price for the company. He can always start again.”

I turn to leave, but as an afterthought I decide to light the various candles that are artfully arranged on the stone bench.
Lit candles count as “more,” don't they?

“Well, he's threatening lawyers, though I don't understand why. We're bulletproof on this. Is that water I hear?” Ros asks.

“Yeah, I'm running a bath.”

“Oh? Do you want me to go?”

“No. Anything else?”

“Yes, Fred wants to talk to you.”

“Really?”

“He's gone over Barney's new design.”

As I wander back into the living room, I acknowledge Barney's design solution for the tablet and ask her to have Andrea send me the revised schematics. Ana has retrieved a bottle of orange juice.

“Is this your new management style: not being here?” Ros asks. I laugh out loud, but mainly at Ana's choice of beverage.
Wise woman.
And I tell Ros that I won't be back in the office until Friday.

“Are you seriously going to change your mind about Detroit?”

“There's a plot of land here that I'm interested in.”

“Is Bill aware of this?” Ros is snippy.

“Yeah, get Bill to call.”

“Will do. Did you get a drink with the Savannah people this evening?”

I tell her that I'll be seeing them tomorrow. I'm more conciliatory and mindful of my tone, as this is a hot button for Ros. “I want to see what Georgia will offer if we move in.” I take a glass off the shelf, hand it to Ana, and point to the ice bucket.

“If their incentives are attractive enough,” I continue, “I think we should consider it, though I'm not sure about the damned heat here.”

Ana pours her drink.

“It's late to be changing your mind on this, Christian. But it might give us some leverage with Detroit,” Ros muses.

“I agree, Detroit has its advantages, too, and it's cooler.”

But there are too many ghosts there for me.

“
Get Bill to call. Tomorrow.” It's late now and I have a visitor. “Not too early,” I warn. Ros says good night and I hang up.

Ana eyes me with reserve as I drink her in. Her lush hair falls over small shoulders, framing her lovely, pensive face. “You didn't answer my question,” she murmurs.

“No. I didn't.”

“No, you didn't answer my question, or no, you didn't love her?”

She's not going to let this go. I lean against the wall and fold
my arms so I don't pull her into them. “What are you doing here, Anastasia?”

“I've just told you.”

Put her out of her misery, Grey.

“No. I didn't love her.”

Her shoulders relax and her face softens. It's what she wanted to hear.

“You're quite the green-eyed goddess, Anastasia. Who would have thought?”

But are you
my
green-eyed goddess?

“Are you making fun of me, Mr. Grey?”

“I wouldn't dare,” I retort.

“Oh, I think you would, and I think you do—often.” She smirks and sinks perfect teeth into her lip.

She's doing that on purpose.

“Please stop biting your lip. You're in my room, I haven't set eyes on you for nearly three days, and I've flown a long way to see you.” I need to know that we're okay, the only way I know how. I want to fuck her, hard.

My phone buzzes, but I switch it off without checking the caller. Whoever it is can wait.

I step toward her. “I want you, Anastasia. Now. And you want me. That's why you're here.”

“I really did want to know,” she says.

“Well, now that you do, are you coming or going?” I ask, standing in front of her.

“Coming,” she says, her eyes on mine.

“Oh, I hope so.” I stare down at her, marveling as her irises darken.

She wants me.

“You were so mad at me,” I whisper.

It's still novel, dealing with her anger, taking her feelings into account.

“Yes.”

“I don't remember anyone but my family ever being mad at me.
I like it.” Gently I touch her face with the tips of my fingers and run them down to her chin. She closes her eyes and angles her cheek to my touch. Leaning down, I run my nose along her naked shoulder, up to her ear, inhaling her sweet scent as desire floods my body. My fingers move to her nape and into her hair.