s watching me intently, his face impassive as he murmurs something to his mom. I turn my back to him.
“Where are you? Kate is being so evasive,” he whines.
“I’m in Seattle.”
“What are you doing in Seattle? Are you with him?”
“José, I’ll call you later. I can’t talk to you now.” I hang up.
I walk as nonchalantly back to Christian and his mother. Grace is in full flow.
“… And Elliot called to say you were around – I ha一ven’t seen you for two weeks, darling.”
“Did he now?” Christian murmurs, gazing at me, his expression unreadable.
“I thought we might ha一ve lunch together, but I can see you ha一ve other plans, and I don’t want to interrupt your day.” She gathers up her long cream coat and turns to him, offering him her cheek. He kisses her briefly, sweetly. She doesn’t touch him.
“I ha一ve to drive Anastasia back to Portland.”
“Of course, darling. Anastasia, it’s been such a pleasure. I do hope we meet again.” She holds her hand out to me, her eyes glowing, and we shake.
Taylor appears from… where?
“Mrs. Grey?” he asks.
“Thank you, Taylor.” He escorts her from the room and through the double doors to the foyer. Taylor was here the whole time? How long has he been here? Where has he been?
Christian glares at me.
“So the photographer called?”
Crap.
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“Just to apologize, you know – for Friday.”
Christian narrows his eyes.
“I see,” he says simply.
Taylor reappears.
“Mr. Grey, there’s an issue with the Darfur shipment.”
Christian nods curtly at him.
“Charlie Tango back at Boeing Field?”
“Yes sir.”
Taylor nods at me.
“Miss Steele.”
I smile tentatively back at him, and he turns and lea一ves.
“Does he live here? Taylor?”
“Yes.” His tone is clipped. What is his problem?
Christian heads over to the kitchen and picks up his BlackBerry, scrolling through some emails, I assume. His mouth presses in a hard line, and he makes a call.
“Ros, what’s the issue?” he snaps. He listens, watching me, gray eyes speculative, as I stand in the middle of the huge room wonde
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