May I draw your attention to the first line of my previous e-mail informing you that your lunch is indeed almost ready . . . so none of this famished and wasting away nonsense.
With regard to the mind-blowing aspects of the kinky fuckery . . . frankly—all of it. I’d be interested in reading your notes. And I like my bracketed signature, too.
A x
(Your fiancée)
PS: Since when have you been so loquacious? And you’re on the phone!
I press send and look up, and he’s standing in front of me, smirking. Before I can say anything, he bounds around the kitchen island, sweeps me up in his arms, and kisses me soundly.
“That is all, Miss Steele,” he says, releasing me, and he saunters—in his jeans, bare feet and untucked white shirt—back to his office, leaving me breathless.
I’ve made a watercress, cilantro, and sour cream dip to accompany the salmon, and I’ve set the breakfast bar. I hate interrupting him while he’s working, but now I stand in the doorway of his office. He’s still on the phone, all thoroughly fucked hair and bright gray eyes—a visually nourishing feast. He looks up when he sees me and doesn’t take his eyes off me. He frowns slightly, and I don’t know if it’s at me or because of his conversation.
“Just let them in and leave them alone. Do you understand, Mia?” he hisses and rolls his eyes. “Good.”
I mime eating, and he grins at me and nods.
“I’ll see you later.” He hangs up. “One more call?” he asks.
“Sure.”
“That dress is very short,” he adds.
“You like it?” I give him a quick twirl. It’s one of Caroline Acton’s purchases. A soft turquoise sundress, probably more suitable for the beach, but it’s such a lovely day on so many levels. He frowns and my face falls.
“You look fantastic in it, Ana. I just don’t want anyone else to see you like that.”
“Oh!” I scowl at him. “We’re at home, Christian. No one but the staff.” His mouth twists, and either he’s trying to hide his amusement or he really doesn’t think that’s funny. But eventually he nods, reassured. I shake my head at him—he’s actually being serious? I head back to the kitchen.
Five minutes later, he’s back in front of me, holding the phone.
“I have Ray for you,” he murmurs, his eyes wary.
All the air leaves my body at once. I take the phone and cover the mouthpiece.
“You told him!” I hiss. Christian nods, and his eyes widen at my obvious look of distress.
“Christian has just asked me if he can marry you,” Ray says.
“What did you say?” I crack first.
“I said I wanted to talk to you. It’s kind of sudden, don’t you think, Annie? You’ve not known him long. I mean, he’s a nice guy, knows his fishing . . . but so soon?” His voice is calm and measured.
“Yes. It is sudden . . . hang on.” Hastily, I leave the kitchen area away from Christian’s anxious gaze and head toward the great window. The doors to the balcony are open, and I step out into the sunshine. I can’t quite walk to the edge. It’s just too far up.
“I know it’s sudden and all—but . . . well, I love him. He loves me. He wants to marry me, and there’ll never be anyone else for me.” I flush thinking this is probably the most intimate conversation I have ever had with my stepfather.
Ray is silent on the other end of the phone.
“Have you told your mother?”
“No.”
“Annie . . . I know he’s all kinds of rich and eligible, but marriage? It’s such a big step.
You’re sure?”
“He’s my happily ever after,” I whisper.
“Whoa.” Ray says after a moment, his tone softer.
“He’s everything.”
“Annie, Annie, Annie. You’re such a headstrong young woman. I hope to God you know what you’re doing. Hand me back to him, will you?”
“Sure, Dad, and will you give me away at the wedding?” I ask quietly.
“Oh, honey.” His voice cracks, and he’s quiet for a few moments, the emotion in his voice bringing tears to my eyes. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” he says eventually.
Oh, Ray. I love you so much . . . I swallow, to keep from crying. “Thank you, Dad. I’ll hand you back to Christian. Be gentle with him. I love him,” I whisper.
I think Ray is smiling on the other end of the line, but it’s hard to tell. It’s always hard to tell with Ray.
“Sure thing, Annie. And come and visit this old man and bring that Christian with you.” I march back into the room—pissed at Christian for not warning me—and hand him the phone, my expression letting him know just how pissed I am. He’s amused as he takes the phone and heads back into his study.
Two minutes later, he reappears.
“I have your stepfather’s rather begrudging blessing,” he says proudly, so proudly, in fact, that it makes me giggle, and he grins at me. He’s acting like he’s just negotiated a major new merger or acquisition, which I suppose on one level, he has.
