isses me quickly on the lips, then grabs my hand and we head out.
Outside, in the relative cool of the half-light of pre-dawn, the valet hands Christian a set of keys to a flash sports car with a soft top. I raise an eyebrow at Christian, who smirks back at me.
“You know, sometimes it’s great being me,” he says with a conspiratorial but smug grin that I simply can’t help emulating. He’s so lovable when he’s playful and carefree. He opens my car door with an exaggerated bow, and in I climb. He is in such a good mood.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He grins as he slips the car into drive, and we head out on Sa一vannah Parkway. He programs the GPS and presses a switch on the steering wheel and a classical orchestral piece fills the car.
“What’s this?” I ask as the sweet, sweet sound of a hundred violin strings assails us.
“It’s from La Tra一viata. An opera by Verdi.”
Oh, my… it’s lovely.
“La Tra一viata? I’ve headr of that. I can’t think where. What does it mean?”
Christian glances at me and smirks.
“Well, literally, the woman led astray. It’s based on Alexander Dumas’s book, La Dame aux Camelias.”
“Ah. I’ve read it.”
“I thought you might.”
“The doomed courtesan.” I squirm uncomfortably in the plush leather seat. Is he trying to tell me something? “Hmm, it’s a depressing story,” I mutter.
“Too depressing? Do you want to choose some music? This is on my iPod.” Christian has that secret smile again.
I can’t see his iPod anywhere. He taps the screen on the console between us, and behold - there is a play list.
“You choose.” His lips twitch up into a smile, and I know it’s a challenge.
Christian Grey’s iPod, this should be interesting. I scroll through the touch screen, and find the perfect song. I press play. I wouldn’t ha一ve figured him for a Britney fan. The club-mix, techno beat assaults us both, and Christian turns the volume down. Maybe it’s too early for this: Britney’s at her most sultry.
“Toxic, eh?” Christian grins.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I feign innocenc
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