«It’s a bit more complicated than that,” I mutter, abruptly guarded. I can’t talk about this—I have signed an NDA. And for the first time, I really resent that fact and that Christian’s said nothing about rescinding it.
«I’ve got time,” Ethan says kindly and takes a long slug of his beer.
«She’s an ex, from years back. She left her husband for some guy. Then a couple of weeks or so ago he was killed in a car crash, and now she’s come after Christian.» I shrug. There, that didn’t give too much away.
«Come after him?»
«She had a gun.»
«What the fuck!»
«She didn’t actually threaten anyone with it. I think she meant to harm herself. But that’s why I was so worried about you. I didn’t know if you were in the apartment.»
«I see. She sounds unstable.»
«Yes, she is.»
«And what’s Christian doing with her now?»
The blood drains from my face and bile rises in my throat. «I don’t know,” I whisper.
Ethan’s eyes widen—at last he’s got it.
This is the crux of my problem. What the fuck are they doing? Talking, I hope. Just talking. Yet all I can see in my mind’s eye is his hand, tenderly stroking her hair.
She’s disturbed and Christian cares about her, that’s all this is, I rationalize. But in the
back of my mind, my subconscious is shaking her head sadly.
It’s more than that. Leila was able to fulfill his needs in a way I cannot. The thought is depressing.
I try to focus on all we’ve done in the last few days—his declaration of love, his flirty humor, his playfulness. But Elena’s words keep coming back to taunt me. It’s true what they say about eavesdroppers.
Don’t you miss it… your playroom?
I finish my beer in record time, and Ethan lines up another. I am not much of a companion, but to his credit he stays with me, chatting, trying to lift my spirits, talking about Barbados, and Kate and Elliot’s antics, which is wonderfully distracting. But it’s just that—a distraction.
My mind, my heart, my soul are all still in that apartment with my Fifty Shades and the woman who used to be his submissive. A woman who thinks she still loves him. A woman who looks like me.
During our third beer, a large cruiser with heavily–tinted windows pulls up next to the Audi in front of the apartment. I recognize Dr. Flynn as he climbs out, accompanied by a woman dressed in what look like pale blue scrubs. I glimpse Taylor as he lets them in through the front door.
«Who’s that?» Ethan asks.
«His name’s Dr. Flynn. Christian knows him.»
«What kind of doctor?»
«A shrink.»
«Oh.»
We both watch, and a few minutes later they are back. Christian is carrying Leila who is wrapped in a blanket. What? I watch horrified as they all climb into the cruiser, and it speeds away.
Ethan glances at me sympathetically, and I feel desolate, completely desolate.
«Can I have something a bit stronger?» I ask Ethan, my voice small.
«Sure. What would you like?»
«A brandy. Please.»
Ethan nods and retreats to the bar. I gaze through the window at the front door. Moments later Taylor emerges, climbs into the Audi, and heads off toward Escala… after Christian? I don’t know.
Ethan places a large brandy in front of me.
«Come on, Steele. Let’s get drunk.»
Sounds like the best offer I’ve had in a while. We clink glasses, and I take a gulp of the burning amber liquid, the fiery heat a welcome distraction from the hideous blossoming pain in my heart.
It’s late, and I feel fuzzy. Ethan and I are locked out of the apartment. He insists on walking me back to Escala, but he won’t stay. He’s called the friend he met earlier for a drink and arranged to crash with him.
«So, this is where the Mogul lives.» Ethan whistles through his teeth, impressed.
I nod.
«Sure you don’t want me to come in with you?» he asks.
«No, I need to face this—or just go to bed.»
«See you tomorrow?»
«Yes. Thanks, Ethan.» I hug him.
«You’ll work it out, Steele,” he murmurs against my ear. He releases me and watches while I head into the building.
«Laters,” he calls. I offer him a weak smile and a wave then press the button to call the elevator.
The elevator doors open, and I step into Christian’s apartment. Taylor is not waiting, which is unusual. Opening the double doors, I head toward the great room. Christian is on the phone, pacing the room near the piano.
«She’s here,” he snaps. He turns to glare at me as he switches off his phone. «Where the fuck have you been?» he growls but doesn’t make a move toward me.
Holy crap, he’s angry with me? He’s the one that just spent God knows how long with his loony ex–girlfriend, and he’s angry with me?
«Have you been drinking?» he asks, appalled.
«A bit.» I didn’t think it was that obvious.
He gasps and runs his hand through his hair. «I told you to come back here.» His voice is menacingly quiet. «It’s now fifteen after ten. I’ve been worried about you.»
«I went for a drink or three with Ethan while you attended to your ex,” I hiss at him. «I didn’t know how long you were going to be… with her.»
He narrows his eyes and takes a few paces toward me but stops.
«Why do you say it that like that?»
