“You’ll do.” Christian smirks as he does up his fly and puts the condom in his pants pocket.
Once more he looks the embodiment of an American entrepreneur, and since his hair looks just fucked most of the time, there’s very little difference. Except now he’s smiling, relaxed, his eyes crinkling with boyish charm. Are all men this easily placated?
Taylor is waiting when the doors open.
“Problem with the elevator,” Christian murmurs as we both step out, and I cannot look either of them in the face. I scurry through the double doors to Christian’s bedroom in search of some fresh underwear.
When I return, Christian has removed his jacket and is sitting at the breakfast bar chatting with Mrs. Jones. She smiles kindly at me as she puts out two plates of hot food for us.
Mmm, it smells delicious—
“Enjoy, Mr. Grey, Ana,” she says and leaves us to it.
Christian fetches a bottle of white wine from the fridge, and as we sit and eat, he tells me about how much nearer he’s getting to perfecting a solar-powered mobile phone. He’s animated and excited about the whole project, and I know then that he hasn’t had an entirely shitty day.
I ask him about his properties. He smirks, and it turns out he only has the apartment in New York and Aspen, and Escala. Nothing else. When we’re done, I collect his plate and mine and take them to sink.
“Leave that. Gail will do it,” he says. I turn and gaze at him, and he’s watching me intently. Will I ever get used to having someone clean up after me?
“Well, now that you are more docile, Miss Steele, shall we talk about today?”
“I think you’re the one who’s more docile. I think I’m doing a good job in taming you.”
“Taming me?” he snorts, amused. When I nod, he frowns as if reflecting on my words.
“Yes. Maybe you are, Anastasia.”
“You were right about Jack,” I murmur, serious now, and I lean across the kitchen island gauging his reaction. Christian’s face falls and his eyes harden.
“Has he tried anything?” he whispers, his voice deathly cold.
I shake my head to reassure him. “No, and he won’t, Christian. I told him today that I’m your girlfriend, and he backed right off.”
“You’re sure? I could fire the fucker.” Christian scowls.
I sigh, emboldened by my glass of wine. “You really have to let me fight my own battles. You can’t constantly second-guess me and try to protect me. It’s stifling, Christian.
I’ll never flourish with your incessant interference. I need some freedom. I wouldn’t dream of meddling in your affairs.”
He blinks at me. “I only want you safe, Anastasia. If anything happened to you, I—” He stops.
“I know, and I understand why you feel so driven to protect me. And part of me loves it. I know that if I need you, you’ll be there, as I am for you. But if we are to have any hope of a future together, you have to trust me and trust my judgment. Yes, I’ll get it wrong sometimes—I’ll make mistakes, but I have to learn.”
He stares at me, his expression anxious, spurring me to walk round to him so that I am standing between his legs while he sits on the barstool. Grabbing his hands, I put them around me and place my hands on his arms.
“You can’t interfere in my job. It’s wrong. I don’t need you charging in like a white knight to save the day. I know you want to control everything, and I understand why, but you can’t. It’s an impossible goal . . . you have to learn to let go.” I reach up and stroke his face as he gazes at me, his eyes wide. “And if you can do that—give me that—I’ll move in with you,” I add softly.
He inhales sharply, surprised. “You’d do that?” he whispers.
“Yes.”
“But you don’t know me.” He frowns and sounds choked and panicky all of a sudden, very un-Fifty.
“I know you well enough, Christian. Nothing you tell me about yourself will frighten me away.” I gently run my knuckles across his cheek. His expression turns from anxious to dubious. “But if you could just ease up on me,” I plead.
“I’m trying, Anastasia. I couldn’t just stand by and let you go to New York with that . . .
sleazeball. He has an alarming reputation. None of his assistants have lasted more than three months, and they’re never retained by the company. I don’t want that for you, baby.” He sighs. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. You being hurt . . . the thought fills me with dread. I can’t promise not to interfere, not if I think you’ll come to harm.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “I love you, Anastasia. I will do everything in my power to protect you. I cannot imagine my life without you.”
Jeez, three little words. My world stands still, tilts, then spins on a new axis; and I savor the moment, gazing into his sincere, beautiful gray eyes.
“I love you, too, Christian.” I lean over and kiss him, and the kiss deepens.
Entering unseen, Taylor clears his throat. Christian pulls back, gazing intently at me.
He stands, his arm around my waist.
“Yes?” he snaps at Taylor.
