“I would have told you earlier, but as it was your birthday . . . What do you give the man who has everything? I thought I’d give you . . . me.” He puts the keychain down on the bedside table and snuggles in beside me, pulling me into his arms against his chest so that we’re spooning.
“It’s perfect. Like you.”
I smirk, though he can’t see my expression. “I am far from perfect, Christian.”
“Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?”
How does he know? “Maybe.” I giggle. “Can I ask you something?
“Of course,” he nuzzles my neck.
“You didn’t call on your trip back from Portland. Was that really because of José? You were worried about me being here alone with him?”
Christian says nothing. I turn to face him, and his eyes are wide as I reproach him.
“Do you know how ridiculous that is? How much stress you put your family and me through? We all love you very much.”
He blinks a couple of times and then gives me his shy smile. “I had no idea you’d all be so worried.”
I purse my lips. “When are you going to get it through your thick skull that you are loved?”
“Thick skull?” His eyebrows widen in surprise.
I nod. “Yes. Thick skull.”
“I don’t think the bone density of my head is significantly higher than anywhere else in my body.”
“I’m serious! Stop trying to make me laugh. I am still a little mad at you, though that’s partially eclipsed by the fact that you’re home safe and sound when I thought . . .” My voice fades as I recall those anxious few hours. “Well, you know what I thought.” His eyes soften and he reaches up to caress my face. “I’m sorry. Okay.”
“Your poor mom, too. It was very moving, seeing you with her,” I whisper.
He smiles shyly. “I’ve never seen her that way.” He blinks at the memory. “Yes, that was really something. She’s normally so self-possessed. It was quite a shock.”
“See? Everyone loves you.” I smile. “Perhaps now you’ll start believing it.” I lean down and kiss him gently.
“Happy birthday, Christian. I’m glad you’re here to share your day with me. And you haven’t seen what I’ve got for you tomorrow um . . . today.” I smirk.
“There’s more?” he says, astounded, and his face erupts into a breathtaking grin.
“Oh yes, Mr. Grey, but you’ll have to wait until then.” I wake suddenly from a dream or nightmare, and my pulse is thumping. I turn, panicked, and to my relief, Christian is fast asleep beside me. Because I’ve shifted, he stirs and reaches out in his sleep, draping his arm over me, and rests his head on my shoulder, sigh-ing softly.
The room is flooded with light. It’s eight o’clock. Christian never sleeps this late. I lie back and let my racing heart calm. Why the anxiety? Is it the aftermath of last night?
I turn and stare at him. He’s here. He’s safe. I take a deep steadying breath and gaze at his lovely face. A face that is now so familiar, all its dips and shadows eternally etched on my mind.
He looks much younger when he’s asleep, and I grin because today he’s a whole year older. I hug myself, thinking about my present. Oooh . . . what will he do? Perhaps I should start by bringing him breakfast in bed. Besides, José may still be here.
I find José at the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. I can’t help but flush when I see him.
He knows I’ve spent the night with Christian. Why do I suddenly feel so shy? It’s not as if I’m naked or anything. I’m wearing my silk floor-length wrap.
“Morning, José,” I smile, brazening it out.
“Hey, Ana!” His face lights up, genuinely pleased to see me. There’s no hint of teasing or salacious contempt in his expression.
“Sleep well?” I ask.
“Sure. Some view from up here.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty special.” Like the owner of this apartment. “Want a real man’s breakfast?” I tease.
“Love some.”
“It’s Christian’s birthday today—I’m making him breakfast in bed.”
“He awake?”
“No, I think he’s fried from yesterday.” I quickly glance away from him and head to the fridge so he can’t see my blush.
“You really like him, don’t you?”
I purse my lips. “I love him, José.”
His eyes widen momentarily then he grins. “What’s not to love?” he asks gesturing round the great room.
I scowl at him. “Gee, thanks!”
“Hey, Ana, just kidding.”
Hmm . . . will I always have this leveled at me? That I’m marrying Christian for his money?
“Seriously, I’m kidding. You’ve never been that kind of girl.”
“Omelet good for you?” I ask, changing the subject. I don’t want to argue.
“Sure.”
“And me,” Christian says as he saunters into the great room. Holy fuck, he’s wearing only pajama bottoms that hang in that totally hot way off his hips—
“José.” He nods.
“Christian.” José returns his nod solemnly.
Christian turns to me and smirks as I stare. He’s done this on purpose. I narrow my eyes at him, desperately trying to recover my equilibrium, and Christian’s expression alters subtly. He knows that I know what he’s up to, and he doesn’t care.
“I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”
