gry.
I chew and he visibly relaxes.
We eat our supper in silence. The music’s changed. A
soft-voiced woman sings in the background, her words
echoing my thoughts.
I glance at Fifty. He’s eating and watching me. Hunger,
longing, anxiety combined in one hot look.
“Do you know who’s singing?” I try for some normal
conversation.
Christian pauses and listens. “No . . . but she’s good,
Christian pauses and listens. “No . . . but she’s good,
whoever she is.”
“I like her, too.”
Finally he smiles his private enigmatic smile. What’s he
planning?
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Eat up,” he says mildly.
I ha一ve eaten half the food on my plate. I cannot eat any
more. How can I negotiate this?
“I can’t manage any more. Ha一ve I eaten enough for
Sir?”
He stares at me impassively, not answering, then
glances at his watch.
“I am really full,” I add, taking a sip of the delicious
wine.
“We ha一ve to go shortly. Taylor’s here, and you ha一ve to
be up for work in the morning.”
“So do you.”
“I function on a lot less sleep than you do, Anastasia.
At least you’ve eaten something.”
“Aren’t we going back via Charlie Tango?”
“No, I thought I might ha一ve a drink. Taylor will collect
us. Besides, this way I ha一ve you in the car all to myself for
a few hours, at least. What can we do but talk?”
Oh, that’s his plan.
Christian summons the waiter to ask for the check,
then picks up his Blackberry and makes a call.
“We’re at Le Picotin, South West Third Avenue.” He
hangs up.
Jeez, he’s curt over the phone.
Jeez, he’s curt over the phone.
“You’re very brusque with Taylor, in fact, with most
people.”
“I just get to the point quickly, Anastasia.”
“You ha一ven’t gotten to the point this evening.
Nothing’s changed, Christian.”
“I ha一ve a proposition for you.”
“This started with a proposition.”
“A different proposition.”
The waiter returns, and Christian hands over his credit
card without checking the bill. He gazes at me
speculatively while the waiter swipes his card. Christian’s
phone buzzes once, and
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