«I’m the boyfriend,” Christian says with a small, cool smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he shakes Jack’s hand. I glance up at Jack who is mentally assessing the fine specimen of manhood in front of him.
«I’m the boss,” Jack replies arrogantly. «Ana did mention an ex–boyfriend.»
«Well, no longer ex,” Christian replies calmly. «Come on, baby, time to go.»
«Please, stay and join us for a drink,” Jack says smoothly.
I don’t think that’s a good idea. Why is this so uncomfortable? I glance at Claire, who is, of course staring, open–mouthed and with frankly carnal appreciation at Christian. When will I stop caring about the effect he has on other women?
«We have plans,” Christian replies with his enigmatic smile.
We do? And a frisson of anticipation runs through my body.
«Another time, perhaps,” he adds. «Come,” he says to me as he takes my hand.
«See you Monday.» I smile at Jack, Claire, and the guys from finance, trying hard to ignore Jack’s less–than–pleased expression, and follow Christian out of the door.
Taylor is at the wheel of the Audi waiting at the curb.
«Why did that feel like a pissing contest?» I ask Christian as he opens the car door for me.
«Because it was,” he murmurs and gives me his enigmatic smile then shuts my door.
«Hello, Taylor,” I say and our eyes meet in the review mirror.
«Miss Steele,” Taylor acknowledges with a genial smile.
Christian slides in beside me, clasps my hand, and gently kisses my knuckles. «Hi,” he says softly.
My cheeks turn pink, knowing that Taylor can hear us, grateful that he can’t see the scorching, panty–combusting look that Christian is giving me. It takes all my self–restraint not to leap on him right here, in the back seat of the car.
«Hi,” I breathe, my mouth dry.
«What would you like to do this evening?»
«I thought you said we had plans.»
«Oh, I know what I’d like to do, Anastasia. I’m asking you what you want to do.»
I beam at him.
«I see,” he says with a wickedly salacious grin. «So… begging it is, then. Do you want to beg at my place or yours?» He tilts his head to one side and smiles his oh–so–sexy smile at me.
«I think you’re being very presumptuous, Mr. Grey. But by way of a change, we could go to my apartment.» I bite my lip deliberately, and his expression darkens.
«Taylor, Miss Steele’s, please.»
«Sir,” Taylor acknowledges and he heads off into the traffic.
«So how has your day been?» he asks.
«Good. Yours?»
«Good, thank you.»
His ridiculously broad grin reflects mine, and he kisses my hand again.
«You look lovely,” he says.
«As do you.»
«Your boss, Jack Hyde, is he good at his job?»
Whoa! That’s a sudden change in direction? I frown. «Why? This isn’t about your pissing contest?»
Christian smirks. «That man wants into your panties, Anastasia,” he says dryly.
I go crimson as my mouth drops open, and I glance nervously at Taylor. My subconscious inhales sharply, shocked.
«Well, he can want all he likes… why are we even having this conversation? You know I have no interest in him whatsoever. He’s just my boss.»
«That’s the point. He wants what’s mine. I need to know if he’s good at his job.»
I shrug. «I think so.» Where is he going with this?
«Well, he’d better leave you alone, or he’ll find himself on his ass on the sidewalk.»
«Oh, Christian, what are you talking about? He hasn’t done anything wrong.» …Yet. He just stands too close.
«He makes one move, you tell me. It’s called gross moral turpitude—or sexual harassment.»
«It was just a drink after work.»
«I mean it. One move and he’s out.»
«You don’t have that kind of power.» Honestly! And before I roll my eyes at him, the realization hits me with the force of a speeding freight truck. «Do you, Christian?»
Christian gives me his enigmatic smile.
«You’re buying the company,” I whisper in horror.
His smile slips in response to the panic in my voice. «Not exactly,” he says.
«You’ve bought it. SIP. Already.»
He blinks at me, warily. «Possibly.»
«You have or you haven’t?»
«Have.»
«Because I can, Anastasia. I need you safe.»
«But you said you wouldn’t interfere in my career!»
«And I won’t.»
I snatch my hand out of his. «Christian …» Words fail me.
«Are you mad at me?»
«Yes. Of course I’m mad at you.» I seethe. «I mean, what kind of responsible business executive makes decisions based on who they are currently fucking?» I blanch and glance nervously once more at Taylor who is stoically ignoring us.
Shit. What a time to have a brain–to–mouth filter malfunction. Anastasia! My subconscious glares at me.
Christian opens his mouth then closes it again and scowls at me. I glare at him. The atmosphere in the car plunges from warm with sweet reunion to frigid with unspoken words and potential recriminations as we glower at each other.
