table with a stack of large glossy books, a study area with a top-of-the-range Mac, an enormous plasma screen TV on the wall, and Christian is sitting at a dining table on the other side of the room reading a newspaper. It’s the size of a tennis court or something, not that I play tennis, though I ha一ve watched Kate a few times. Kate!
“Crap, Kate,” I croak. Christian peers up at me.
“She knows you’re here and still alive. I texted Elliot,” he says with just a trace of humor.
Oh no. I remember her fervent dancing of the night before. All her patented moves used with maximum effect to seduce Christian’s brother no less! What’s she going to think about me being here? I’ve never stayed out before. She’s still with Elliot. She’s only done this twice before, and both times I’ve had to endure the hideous pink PJs for a week from the fallout. She’s going to think I’ve had a one-night stand too.
Christian stares at me imperiously. He’s wearing a white linen shirt, collar and cuffs undone.
“Sit,” he commands, pointing to a place at the table. I make my way across the room and sit down opposite him as I’ve been directed. The table is laden with food.
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a selection from the breakfast menu.” He gives me a crooked, apologetic smile.
“That’s very profligate of you,” I murmur, bewildered by the choice, though I am hungry.
“Yes, it is.” He sounds guilty.
I opt for pancakes, maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Christian tries to hide a smile as he returns to his egg white omelet. The food is delicious.
“Tea?” he asks.
“Yes, please.”
He passes me a small teapot of hot water and on the saucer is a Twining’s English Breakfast teabag. Jeez, he remembers how I like my tea.
“Your hair’s very damp,” he scolds.
“I couldn’t find the hairdryer,” I mutter, embarrassed. Not that I looked.
Christian’s mouth presses into a hard line, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Thank you for organizing the clothes.”
“It’s a pleasure, Anastasia. That color suits you.
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