Christian nods. "That's me."
"Welch brought these photos?"
"Yes. I don't remember any of this." His voice is flat and lifeless.
""Remember being with foster parents? Win should ou? Christian, it was a
long time ago. Is this w hai's worn nig you?"
"I remember other things, from before and after. When I met my mom and
dad. But this . . . It's like there's a huge chasm."
c entiling in its place, and now he's learned he's missing nan of the jigsaw.
"Is Jack in this picture?"
"Yes, he's the older kid." Christian's eyes are still screwed shut, and he's
clinging to mc as if I'n ife rail. 1 run i I e I ough his hair while I gaze at
the dei } ho is glarii lefianl an< rog i I it di i I i n e il
Jack. But he's just a kid, a sad eight- or nine-year-old, hiding his fear behind his
hostility. A thought oceuis to me.
"When Jack called to tell me lie had Mia. lie -aid if things had been different,
it could have been him."
Christian elo I es and shuddei I it I i ' i
"You think he did all this because the (ireys adopted you instead of him?"
"Who knows?" Christian's tone is bitter. "I don't give a fuck about him."
"Perhaps he knew we were seeing each other when 1 went for that job inter-
view. Perhaps he planned i I 111 I
"] don't think so." C lirislian nuillcrs. his cye> now open- "The scorches he did
on my family didn't start until a week or so after you began your job at SIP. Bar-
ney knows the exact doles. And. Ana. lie fucked all his assislanls and taped litem."
( lirislian closes his eyes and tightens his grip on me once more.
Suppressing the tremor that runs through me, I try to recall my various con-
versations with Jack when I first started at SIP. I knew deep down he was bad
news, yet I ignored all m> instincts. ( hristian's right I hae no regard lor my
own safety. I remember the light w e had about me going to New York with Jack.
Jeez — I could have ended up on some sordid sex tape. The thought is nauseating.
And in thai momenl ] recall the photographs ( lirislian kepi of his submissi es.
Oh shit. "We're cut from the same cloth. " No, Christian, you're not, you're
nothing like him. He's still curled around me like a small boy.
"Christian, I think you should talk to your mom and dad." I am reluctant to
move him, so I shift and slide back into the bed until we are eye to eye.
A bewildered gray gaze meets mine, reminding me of the child in the
pi aph.
"Let mc call lliem." I whisper, lie shakes his head. "Please." I beg. Christian
stares at me, pain and scli'-donbl reflected in his exes as lie considers my request.
Oh, Christian, please!
"Good. We can go and see them together, or you can go. Whiche er von
prefer."
"No. They can come here."
"Why?"
"Chrislian. I'm up for a car journey."
"No." His voice is firm, but he gives mc an ironic smile. "Anyway, it's
Salurd i night the i I nc fund
"Call them. This news has olwioush upset on. The;, might be able to shed
some light." I glance at the radio alarm. It's almost seven in the evening. He re-
gards mc impassively for a moment.
"Okay," he says a-: if I've issued him w ith a challenge. Silling up, he picks up
the bedside phone.
I wrap my arm around him and rest my head on his chest as he makes the
call.
"Dad?" I register his surprise llnil Carrick has answered the phone. "Ana's
good. We're home. Welch has just left. He found out the connection ... the foster
home in Detroit ... 1 don't remember any ol' that." ( hrislian's voice is almost in-
audible as he mutlei i ! n 1 i it i nee more. I hug him,
and he squeezes my shoulder.
"Yeah . . . You will? . . . Great." He hangs up. "They're on their way." He
sounds surprised, and I realize that he's probably never asked them for help.
"Good. I should get dressed."
Christian's arm tightens around me. "Don't go."
' I 1 sua I ii i e aga li ui d i i in hit he s just told
me a great deal about himself— entirely voluntarily.
As we stand at the threshold to the great room, Grace wraps me gently in her
ean I c er thank you?"
hugs me, too, kissing my forehead.
Then Mia grabs me. squashing nn ribs. 1 wince and gasp, but site doesn't no-
tice. "Thank you for sa ing me from those assholes."
Christian scowls at her. "Mia! Careful! She's in pain."
"Oh! Sorry."
She looks fine. Impeccably dressed in tight black jeans and a pale pink frilly
reasonably presentable.
Wordlessly, he hands Grace the photo. She gasps, her hand flying to her
mouth to contain hci in lion as sh inlb, t nizes CI istnn. Carrick wraps
his arm around her shoulder as he, too, examines it.
"Oh, darling." Grace caresses Christian's cheek.
Taylor appears. "Mr. Grey? Miss Kavanagh, her brother, and your brother are
coming up, sir."
C hrislian frowns. "Thank you. Taylor," he nuillers. bemused.
"I called Elliot and told him we were coming over." Mia grins. "It's a
welcome-home party."
I sneak a sympall I n i i Hi (n ice and Carrick
glare at Mia in exasperation.
"We'd better get some food together," 1 declare. "Mia, will you give me a
hand?"
"Oh, I'd love to."
I usher her toward the kitchen area as Christian leads his parcnis into his
Kale is apopleelie with righteous indignation ihat's aimed at me. Christian, hut
most of all Jack and Elizabeth.
"Kale, please. I've had the same lecture from everyone!" I snap back. She
Kavanagh how-not-to-sueenmb-io-kidnappers lecture, hut instead she folds mc in
"Jeez — sometimes ou don't hae the brains sou were born with, Steele," she
whispers. As she kisses my check, there are tears in her exes Kate! "I've been so
worried about >ou."
"Don't cry. You'll set me off."
She stands b cl 1 I nbarrassed 1 tl es a deep breath
and composes herself. "On a more positive note, we've set a date for our wedding.
We thought next May? And of course I want you to be my matron of honor."
"What is it?" she asks, misinterpreting my alarm.
"Um . . . I'm just so happy for you. Some good news for a change." I wrap
my arms around her and pull her into a hug. Shit, shit, shit. When is Blip due?
Mentally I calculate my due date. Dr. Greene said I was four or five weeks.
So — sometime in May? Shit.
Elliot hands mc a glass of champagne.
Oh. Shit.
Christian emerges from his study, looking ashen, and follows his parents into
the great room. His cy e , w iden « Ik n he see-, the glass in my hand.
"Kate," he greets her coolly.
"Christian." She is equally cool. I sigh.
"Your meds, Mrs. Grey." He eyes the glass in my hand.
I narrow my eyes. Dammit. I want a drink. Grace smiles as she joins me in
the kitchen, collecting a glass from Elliot on the w ay
"A sip will he fine." she whispers w iih a conspiratorial wink at me, and lifts
her glass to clink mine. Christian scow Is a! both of us. until Elliot distracts him
h I n I i I en the Mari nd the 1
C arrick joins us, putting his arms around us both, and Grace kisses his cheek
before joining Mia on the sola.
"How is he?" I whisper to Carrick as he and I stand in the kitchen watching
the family lounge on the sofa. I note with surprise that Mia and Ethan are holding
"Shaken," Carrick murmurs to me. his brow furrowing, his face serious. "He
remembers so much of his life with his birth mother; many things I wish he
didn't. But this — " He stops. "1 hope « e've helped. I'm glad he called us. He said
champagne.
I frown. I don't think that's true. The unwelcome specter of the Bitch Troll
feel a moment's frustration as I try to fathom their conversation in the hospital,
"'Come and sit down. Ana. You look tired. I'm sure you weren't expecting all
of us here this evening."
"It's great to see everyone." I smile. Because it's true, it is great. I'm an only
child who has married mi rg nd g ri< imil III e it. 1 n J
up next to Christian.
"One sip," he hisses al me and lakes my glass from my hand.
"Yes, Sir." I bat my fishes, disarming him completely, lie puts his arm
around my shoulders and returns to his baseball conversation with Elliot and
Ethan.
"My parcnls think you walk on w ater." C hrislian mutters as he drags off Ins T-
l'tn curled up in bed watching the floorshow. "(iood thing you know differ-
ently." I snort.
"Oh, I don't know." He slips out of his jeans.
"Did they fill in the gaps for you?"
"Some. 1 lived with the Colliers lot two months while Mom and Dad waited
for the paperwork. They were alreadv approved lor adoption because of Elliot, but
the w ait's required by law to see if I had any living relatives who wanted to claim
"How do you feel about that?" I whisper.
He frowns. "About having no living relatives'.- Fuck that. If they were any-
thing like the crack whore . . ." He shakes his head in disgust.
Oil. I 'In isiian! ) on were a child, and you loved your mom.
He slides on his pajamas, climbs into bed. ami gently pulls me into his arms.
"It's coming back to me. 1 remember the food. Mrs. Collier could cook. And
at least we know now why that fucker is so hung up on my family." He runs his
free hand through his hair. "Fuck!" he says suddenly turning to gape at me.
"What?"
"It ma i i His ^ I 1 v i hi
"What?"
"Baby Bird. Mrs. Collier used to call mc Baby Bird."
I frown. "That makes sense?"
"The note," he says gazing at mc. "The ransom note that fucker left. It went
something like 'Do you know who I am? Because I know who you are, Baby
This makes no sense to mc at all.
"It's from a kid's book. Christ. The Colliers had it. It was called . . . 'Are You
Mv Mother?' Shit." His eyes widen. "1 loved that book."
Oh. I know that book. My heart lurches Fifty:
"Mrs. Collier used to read it to mc."
1 am at a loss what to say.
"Christ, lie knew . . . that fucker knew."
"Will you tell the police?"
"Yes. I will. Christ knows what Clark will do with that information." Christi-
an shakes his head as if Irving to clear hi* thoughts. "Am way. thank you for this
evening."
Whoa. Gear change. "For what?"
"Catering for my family at a moment's notice."
"Don't thank inc. thank Mia and Mrs. Jones Site keeps lite pantry well
stocked."
He shakes his head as if in exasperation. At me? Why?
"How arc you feeling, Mrs. Grey?"
"Good. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." He frowns ... not understanding my concern.
Oh . . . in that case. 1 trail my lingers dow n his stomach to his oh-so-happy
lie laughs and grabs m; hand. "Oh no. Don't get any ideas."
I pout, and he sighs. "Ana, Ana, Ana, what am I going to do with you?" He
"I have some ideas." I squirm beside hint and « nice as pain radiates through
"Baby, you've been through enough, Besides. I have a bedtime story for
Oh?
"You wanted to know . . ." He trails oft", closes hi^ eyes and swallows.
ll of the hair on m body siands on end. Shit.
some extra monev so 1 i in mimic hi ci il habil I le shifts onto his
"So I was in the backyard at the Lincolns', clearing some rubble and trash
from the extension Mr. Lincoln had just added to their place . . ."
Holy fuck ... he's talking.
"It was a hot summer day. I was working hard." He snorts and shakes his
my own, and Ele — Mrs. Lincoln appeared out of nowhere and brought me some
"But then she kissed me. And when she finished, she slopped me again." He
in mingU I eonfoundec h 1 Hi in
"I'd never been kissed be lore or hit like that."
Oh. She pounced. On a kid.
"Do you want to hear this?" Christians asks.
Yes... No.. .
"I'm trying to give you some context."
1 nod in what I hope is an encouraging summer. Bui I suspect I may look like
a statue, frozen and widc-cyed with shock.
turns onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.
"Well, naturally, 1 was confused and angry and homy as hell. I mean, a hot
older woman comes on to you like that — " He shakes his head as if he still can't
believe it.
Hot? I feel queasy.
"She went back into the house, leaving me in the backyard. She acted as if
nothing had happened. I was at a total loss. So I went back to work, loading the
rubble into the dumpster. When I left that evening, she asked me to come back the
next day. She didn't i ntionwl i i n I di I went back. I
couldn't wait to see her again," he whispers as if it's a dark confession ... be-
lli! il ii-
gaze at mc. "You have to understand ... my life was hell on earth. I was a
school — " He stops, but I've got the picture: a scared, lonely, but attractive ad-
olescent. My heart twists.
"I was angry, so fucking angry at everyone, at myself, my folks. I had no
friends. My therapist at the time was a total asshole. My folks, they kept me on a
tight leash; they didn't understand." He stares back up at the ceiling and runs a
hand through his hah li h i run n lii i throng Ii i loo, but I stay still.
"I just couldn't bear anyone to touch me. I couldn't. Couldn't bear anyone
near me. 1 used to fight . . . fuck, did 1 light. I gol into some god-aw ful braw Is. I
was expelled from a couple of schools. But it was a way to let off steam. To
tolerate some kind of physical contact." He stops again. "Well, you get the idea.
And when she kissed me. she onl grubbed m face. Site didn't touch me." His
She must have known. Perhaps < irate had told her. Oh. my poor Fifty. I have
to fold my hands beneath my pillow and rest my head on it in order to resist the
urge to hold him.
"Well, the next day I went back to the house, not knowing what to expect.
And I'll spare you the gory details, but there was more of the same. And that's
how our relationship started."
Oh, fuck, this is painful to hear.
He shifts again onto his side so he's facing mc.
"And you know something. Ana? My world came inlo focus. Sharp and clear.
Everything. It was exactly what I needed. She was a breath of fresh air. Making
iK lakh I that shit a ne. lellii irealh
Holy shit.
"And even when it was over, my world stayed in focus because of her. And it
stayed thai wax until i mel you."
What the hell am 1 supposed lo say to thai'. 1 Tentatively, he smoothes a stray
lock of my hair behind my ear.
litem again, they arc raw . "My world was ordered calm and, controlled, then you
quiet temerity . . . and everything before you was just dull, empty, mediocre ... it
was nothing."
"I fell in love," he whispers.
I stop breathing. He caresses my cheek.
"So did I," I murmur with the little breath I have left.
His eyes solicit. "I know," he mouths.
"You do?"
"Yes."
Hallelujah! 1 smile shyly at him. "Finally," I whisper.
He nods. "And it's put everything into perspective for me. When I was
younger, Elena was the center of my world. There was nothing I wouldn't do for
her. And she did a lot for me. She stopped my drinking. Made me work hard at
school . . . You know, she gave me a coping mechanism I hadn't had before, al-
lowed me to experience things that ! ne er thought 1 could."
"Touch," I whisper.
He nods. "After a fashion."
J frown, w ondering w hat he means.
He hesitates at my reaction.
Tell me! I will him.
"If you grow up with a wholly negative self-image, thinking you're some
kind of reject, an unlovable savage, you think you deserve to be beaten."
Christian . . . you are none of those things.
your pain on the outside . . ." Again, it's a confession.
""She channeled tm anger." His nioull I I I
some time. It was only recently that I saw our relationship for what it was. You
I shudder as the u J i ; i 10 I' Elena I Chrislia 1 II i .i
ii li Hh t al Christian's birthday pari n i i I i u i d
"For her that side of our relationship was about sex and control and a lonely
woman finding some kind of comfort nidi hei box toy."
"But you like control," I whisper.
while. Let someone make all my decisions for me. I couldn't do it myself — I
wasn't in a fit state. But through my submission to her, I found myself and found
the strength to take charge of my life . . . take control and make my own
"Become a Dom?"
"Yes."
"Your decision?"
"Yes."
"Dropping out of Harvard'.'""
"My decision, and it was the best decision I ever made. Until I met you."
"Me?"
"Yes." His lips quirk up in a soft smile. "The best decision I ever made was
marrying you."
Oh my. "Not starting your company?"
He shakes his head.
"Not learning to fly?"
lie shakes his head. "You." he moulhs. He caresses my eheek with his
knuckles. "She knew," he whispers.
I frown. "She knew what?"
"That 1 was head tner heels m loe w illi ou. She encouraged mc to go down
to Georgia to see you, and I'm glad she did. She thought you'd freak out and
leave. Which you did."
1 pale. I'd rather not think about that.
"She thought I needed all the trappings of the lifestyle I enjoyed."
"The Dom?" I whisper.
He nods It en "»! me 1 e < i i i I ih gae me control,
anil kepi me detached, or so I thought. I'm sure you've worked out why," he adds
"I didn't want lo be hurl again. And then ou lel'l me." His words are barely
"You're doing fine," I murmur. I
i ih i im i I i
"Do you miss it?" 1 whisper.
"Bui only insofar as 1 miss the eonlrol il brings. And frankly, your slupid
rnt" — he stops — "that saved my sister," he whispers, his words full of relief,
. e. and disbelief "That's how I know."
"Know?"
"Really know that you love me."
I frown. "You do?"
"Yes. Because you risked so much ... for me, for my family."
My frown deepens, lie readies oer and iraces Ids linger ocr die middle of
my brow above my nose.
"You have a V here when you frown," he murmurs. "It's very soft to kiss. I
can behave so badly . . . and yet you're still here."
"Why are you surprised I'm still here? I told you 1 wasn't going to leave
""Because of the way that I behaved when you told me you were pregnant."
1 1c runs his linger down nn check. " 1 on w civ right. 1 am an adolescent."
Oh shit . . . I did say that. My subconscious glares at me. His doctor said
that!
"Christian, 1 said some aw fill dungs. "" lie puis his index linger over my lips.
"Hush. I descned lo hear litem. Besides this is nt bedtime story." He rolls
onto his back again.
"When you told me you were pregnant— "lie slops. "I'd thought it would be
just you and me loi li I I t hildren. but old in the abstract. I had
Just one? No. . . Not an only child. Not like me. Perhaps now's not the best
"You are still so young, and I know you're quietly ambitious."
"Well, you pulled the rug from under me. Christ, was that unexpected. Never
nant." He sighs. "I was so mad. Mad at you. Mad at myself. Mad at everyone.
And it took me back, that feeling of nothing being in my control. I had to get out.
I went to see Flynn, but he was at some school parents' evening." Christian
pauses and arches an eebrow.
"Ironic." I whisper. Christian smirks in agreement.
"So I walked and walked and walked, and I just . . . found myself at the
salon. Elena was leaving. She was surprised to see me. And, truth be told, I was
surprised to find myself there. She could tell 1 was mad and asked me if I wanted
"We went to a quiet bar I know and had a bottle of wine. She apologized for
the »a she helmed the last lime site saw us. She's hurt that my mom will have
nothing to do with her any more it's narro h i n I i ndei
stands. We talked about the business, which is doing fine, in spite of the reces-
sion ... I mentioned that you wanted kids."
I frown. "1 thought you let her know I was pregnant."
lie regards inc. his lace guileless. "No, I didn't."
"Why didn't you tell me that?"
Me shrugs. "1 never got the chance."
"Yes, you did."
"I couldn't find you the next morning, Ana. And when I did, you were so
Oh, yes. "I was."
to touch inc. And 1 froze." he w
;s. Shit. His face is pale, his eyes wide.
lie frowns, and swallows.
"She made a pass at me." He's shocked, 1 can tell.
All lire i ith t 1 i my bod II hided nd 1 thii i heart
has stopped. That fucking bitch troll!
"It was a moment, suspended in time. She saw my expression, and she real-
ized how far she'd crossed the line. 1 said . . . no. I haven't thought of her like that
for years, and besides" — he swallows — "I love you. 1 told her, I love my wife."
I gaze at him. 1 don't know w hat to say.
" She hacked right off. Apologized again, made it seem like a joke. I mean,
she said she's happ ill) Isaac and w illi the business and she doesn't bear either
of us any ill will Sh i In n C( i friends ] l i die could see that my
life was with you now. And how awkward that was, given what happened last
time we were all in the same room. I couldn't have agreed with her more. We said
our good-byes — our final good-byes. ! said I wouldn't see her again, and she went
on her way."
I swallow, fear gripping nn heart. "Did you kiss?"
"No!" he snorts. "1 couldn't bear to be that close to her."
Oh. Good.
"I was miserable. I wanted to come home to you. But ... I knew I'd behaved
badly. I stayed and finished the bottle, then started on the bourbon. While I was
drinking, I remember you saying to me some time ago, 'If that was my son
me feel . . . uncomfortable. I'd nc er thought of it like that before."
was half conscious— Christian's voice: "But seeing her finally put it all in per-
spective for me. You know . . . with the child. For the first time 1 felt . . . What we
did . . . it was wrong. " He'd been speaking to Grace.
"Pretty much."
"Yes. It's been over since I laid eyes on you. I finally realized it that night
He frowns. "What for?"
"Being so angry the next day."
He snorts. "Bab. 1 understand angry." lie pauses then sigh-,. "You see. Ana.
I want you to myself. I don't want to share you. What we have, I've never had be-
fore. I want to be the center of your universe, for a while at least."
Oh, Christian. "You are. That's not going to change."
He gives me an indulgent, sad, resigned smile. "Ana," he whispers. "That's
just not true."
Tears prick ni eye*.
"How can it be?" he murmurs.
Oh, no.
"Shit — don't cry, Ana. Please, don't cry." He caresses my face.
'Tin sorry." M lower lip trembles, and he brushes his thumb ocr it. sooth-
"No, Ana, no. Don't be sorry. You'll have someone else to love as well. And
you're right. That's how it should be."
"Blip will love you, too. You'll be the center of Blip's — Junior's world." I
w hisper. "C hildren love their parents unconditionally. Christian. Thai's how they
come into the world. Programmed to love. All babies . . . even you. Think about
that children's book you liked when you were small. You still wanted your mom.
You loved her."
"No." he whispers.
"Yes. You did." My tears How freely now. "Of course you did. It wasn't an
option. That's why you're so hurt."
"That's why you're able to love me," I murmur. "Forgive her. She had her
own world of pain to deal w ith. She w as a shitty mother, and you loved her."
He gazes at me. sa_ ing nothing, ey es haunted in memories I can't begin to
"One look at you and no one would doubt that."
I nod and he closes his eyes. "I'm scared I'll be a shitty father."
I stroke his dear face. Oh, my Fifty, Fifty, Fifty. "Christian, do you think for
one minute I'd let you be a shitty father?"
He opens his eyes and gazes at me for what feels like an eternity. He smiles
as relief slowly illuminates his lace. "No. i don't think you would." He caresses
my face with the back of his knuckles, gazing at me in wonder. "God, you're
strong, Mrs. Grey. I love you so much." He 1 es n Ibi head "1 didn't know 1
"Oh, Christian," I whisper, trying to contain my emotions.
"Now, that's the end of your bedtime story."
"That's some bedside story . . ."
lie smiles wistfully, but I think he's relieved. '"I low's your head?"
"'My Ik id I In i / ill you've told me!
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
"Good. I think you should sleep now."
Sleep! How can I sleep after all that?
"Sleep," he says sternly. "You need it."
I pout. "I have one question."
"Oh? What?" He eyes me warily.
"Why have you suddenly become all . . . forthcoming, for want of a better
He frowns.
"You're telling me all this, w hen getting information out of you is normally a
pretty harrowing and trying experience."
"It is?
"You know it is."
"Why am I being forthcoming? I can't say. Seeing you practically dead on
said you wanted to know, and 1 don't want Elena to come between us. She can't.
"If she hadn't made a pass at you . . . would you still be friends?"
"Sorry. You don't have to tell me." I flush. "You've already volunteered
His gaze softens. "No, I don't think so, but she's felt like unfinished business
since my birthday. She stepped over the line, and I'm done. Please, believe me.
I 'm not going to see her again. You said she's a hard limit for you. That's a term I
understand," he says with quiet sincerity.
Okay. I'm going to lei this go now M subconscious sags into her armchair.
Finally!
"Goodnight. Christian. Thank you lor the enlightening bedtime story." I lean
over to kiss him, and our lips touch brielT . but he pulls buck when I try to deepen
"Don't," he whispers. "I am desperate to make love to you."
"Then do."
"No, you need to rest, and it's late. Go to sleep." He switches off the bedside
light. | 1 li 1 i I ii
"I love you unconditionally. C hristian " 1 murmur as 1 cuddle into his side.
"1 know ." he whispers, and I sense his shy smile.
I wake with a start. Light is Hooding the room, and < hristian is not in bed. 1
glance at the clock an i ceil sc i fifty-three 1 take i deep breath and wince as
my ribs smart though not as badly as yesterday. I think I could go to work.
Wort-fe.lwanttogotowork.
It's Monday, and I spent all of yesterday lounging about in bed. Christian
only let me go out briefly to see Ray. Honestly, he's still such a control freak. I
smile fondly. A/v coiurol IrctiL 1 Ic's been attentive and lo ing and chatty . . . and
hands-off since I arrived home. I scowl. I am going to have to do something about
this. My head doesn't hurt, the pain around my ribs has eased — though, admit-
tedly, laughing has to be undertaken with caution but I'm frustrated. I think this
is the longest l'e gone w ithoul sex since . . . well, since the first time.
1 think we've both recovered our equilibrium. Christian is much more re-
want something se i i Hi i i 1 I i i u i I
control? 1 don't really wain to dw ell on how Christian learned such discipline ocr
his body. Wc haven't spoken of the Bitch Troll once since his confessional. I hope
we never do. To me she's dead and buried.
I choose an almost indccenlls short black skirl and a while silk blouse with a
frill. I slide on thigh-highs with lacy tops and my black Louboutin pumps. A little
mascara and lip gloss lot a natural look, and after a ferocious brushing, I leave my
hair loose. Yes. This should do it.
Christian is eating at the breakfast bar. lbs forkful of omelet stops in midair
when he sees me. He frowns.
"Goodmomm- Mi Circs doing omc h is
"Work." I smile sweetly.
"I don't think so." Christian snorts with amused derision. "Dr. Singh said a
■'Christian. 1 am I spen I I lounging in I 1 1 ms own. So I may
as well go to work. Good morning, Gail."
"Mrs. Grey." Mrs. Jones tries to hide a smile. "Would you like some
breakfast?"
"Please."
"I'd prefer scrambled eggs with whole wheat toast."
Mrs. Jones grins and Christian registers his surprise.
"Very good, Mrs. Grey," Mrs. Jones says.
"Ana, you are not going to work."
"But—"
"No. It's simple. Don't argue. " ( hrislian is adamant. 1 glare at him, and only
last night.
""Arc s on going to svork?" I ask.
"No."
t i i _ It is Mom nit
He smiles. "Last time I looked."
I narrow my eyes. "Are you playing hooky?"
"I'm not leaving you here on your own to get into trouble. And Dr. Singh
said it would be a week before you could go back to work. Remember?"
I slide onto a bar stool beside him and hoist my skirt up a little. Mrs. Jones
places a cup of tea in front of me."You look good," Christian says. I cross my
legs. "Very good. Especially here." He traces a finger over the bare flesh that
shows above my (high-highs. M pub* quickens ;is his linger runs across my
skin. "This skirt is very short," he murmurs, vague disapproval in his voice as his
eyes follow his finger.
"Is it? I hadn't noticed."
Christian g s at mc i mill l isled in an ainusi el isperai mil l
"Really, Mrs. Grey?"
I blush.
"I'm not sure this look is suitable for the u orkplacc," he murmurs.
"Well, since I'm not going to work, that's a moot point."
"Moot?"
C hrislian smirks again and resumes eating his omelet. '"1 hae a belief idea."
"You do?"
He glances al me lln igli long laslie ra irl I inhale sharply.
Oh, my. About time.
""We can go see how klliol's gelling on w ill; the house."
What'.' Oh! Tease! I vaguely remember we were supposed to do that before
Ray was injured.