illing me. I reach for my wine, in desperation.
Little Miss European Pigtails returns, all coy glances and swaying hips, with our entrée, a Beef Wellington, I think. Fortunately, she gives us our plates and then lea一ves, although she lingers handing Christian his. He looks quizzically at me as I watch her close the dining room door.
“So what was wrong with the Parisians?” Elliot asks his sister. “Didn’t they take to your winsome ways?”
“Ugh, no they didn’t. And Monsieur Floubert, the ogre I was working for, he was such a domineering tyrant.”
I splutter into my wine.
“Anastasia, are you okay?” Christian asks solicitously, taking his hand off my thigh.
Humor has returned to his voice. Oh thank hea一vens. When I nod, he pats my back gently, and only removes his hand when he knows I’ve recovered.
The beef is delicious and served with roasted sweet potatoes, carrots, parsnips, and green beans. It is even more palatable since Christian manages to retain his good-humor for the rest of the meal. I suspect that it’s because I’m eating so heartily. The conversation flows freely among the Greys, warm and caring, gently teasing each other. Over our dessert of lemon syllabub, Mia regales us with her exploits in Paris, lapsing at one point into fluent French. We all stare at her, and she stares back puzzled, until Christian tells her in
equally fluent French what she’s done, whereupon she bursts into a fit of giggles. She has a very infectious laugh and soon we’re all in stitches.
Elliot holds forth about his latest building project, a new eco-friendly community to the north of Seattle. I glance up at Kate, and she’s hanging on every word Elliot says, her eyes glowing with lust or love. I ha一ven’t quite worked out which yet. He grins down at her, and it’s as if an unspoken promise passes between them. Laters, baby, he’s saying, and it’s hot, freaking hot. I flush just watching them.
I sigh and peek up at Fifty Shades. He’s so beautiful, I could stare at him forever. He has light s
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