Grace interrupts our leisurely conversation to inform everyone that dinner is being served buffet–style in the Grey kitchen. Slowly the guests make their way toward the back of the house.
Mia collars me in the hallway. In her pale pink, frothy babydoll dress and killer heels, she towers over me like a Christmas tree fairy. She’s holding two cocktail glasses.
«Ana,” she hisses conspiratorially. I glance up at Christian, who releases me with a best–of–luck–I–find–her–impossible–to–deal–with–too look, and I sneak into the dining room with her.
«Here,” she says mischievously. «This is one of my dad’s special lemon martinis—much nicer than champagne.» She hands me a glass and watches anxiously while I take a tentative sip.
«Hmm… delicious. But strong.» What does she want? Is she trying to get me drunk?
«Ana, I need some advice. And I can’t ask Lily—she’s so judgmental about everything.» Mia rolls her eyes then grins at me. «She is so jealous of you. I think she was hoping one day that she and Christian might get together.» Mia bursts out laughing at the absurdity, and I quail inside.
This is something I will have to contend with for a long time—other women wanting my man. I push the unwelcome thought out of my head and distract myself with the matter in hand. I take another sip of my martini.
«I’ll try and help. Fire away.»
«As you know, Ethan and I met recently, thanks to you.» She beams at me.
«Yes.» Where the hell is she going with this?
«Ana—he doesn’t want to date me.» She pouts.
«Oh.» I blink at her, stunned, and I think,
«Look, that sounded all wrong. He doesn’t want to date because his sister is going out with my brother. You know—he thinks it’s all kind of incestuous. But I know he likes me. What can I do?»
«Oh, I see,” I mutter, trying to buy myself some time. What can I say? «Can you agree to be friends and give it some time? I mean you’ve only just met him.»
She cocks her eyebrow and I flush.
«Look, I know I’ve only really just met Christian but …» I scowl at her not sure what I want to say. «Mia, this is something you and Ethan have to work out together. I would try the friendship route.»
Mia grins.
«You’ve learned that look from Christian.»
I flush. «If you want advice, ask Kate. She may have some insight as to how her brother feels.»
«You think?» Mia asks.
«Yes.» I smile encouragingly.
«Cool. Thanks, Ana.» She gives me another hug and scuttles excitedly—and impressively, given her high heels—to the door, no doubt off to bother Kate. I take another sip of my martini, and I’m about to follow her when I am stopped in my tracks.
Elena breezes into the room, her face taut, set in grim, angry determination. She closes the door quietly behind her and scowls at me.
«Ana,” she sneers.
I summon all my self–possession, slightly fuzzy from two glasses of champagne and the lethal cocktail I hold in my hand. I think the blood has drained from my face, but I marshal both my subconscious and my inner goddess in order to appear as calm and as unflappable as I can.
«Elena.» My voice is small, but steady—despite my dry mouth. Why does this woman freak me out so much? And what does she want now?
«I would offer you my heartfelt congratulations, but I think that would be inappropriate.» Her piercing cold blue eyes stare frostily into mine, filled with loathing.
«I neither need nor want your congratulations, Elena. I’m surprised and disappointed to see you here.»
She arches an eyebrow. I think she’s impressed.
«I wouldn’t have thought of you as a worthy adversary, Anastasia. But you surprise me at every turn.»
«I haven’t thought of you at all,” I lie, coolly. Christian would be proud. «Now if you’ll excuse me, I have much better things to do than waste my time with you.»
«Not so fast, missy,” she hisses, leaning against the door, effectively blocking it. «What on earth do you think you’re doing, consenting to marry Christian? If you think for one minute you can make him happy, you’re very much mistaken.»
«What I’m consenting to do with Christian is none of your concern.» I smile with sarcastic sweetness. She ignores me.
«He has needs—needs you cannot possibly begin to satisfy,” she gloats.
«What do you know of his needs?» I snarl. My sense of indignation flares brightly, burning inside me as adrenaline surges through my body. How dare this fucking bitch preach to me? «You’re nothing but a sick child molester, and if it was up to me, I’d toss you into the seventh circle of hell and walk away smiling. Now get out of my way—or do I have to make you?»
«You’re making a big mistake here, lady.» She shakes a long, skinny, finely manicured finger at me. «How dare you judge our lifestyle? You know nothing, and you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. And if you think he’s going to be happy with a mousy little gold–digger like you…»
