s arrangement.”
He visibly relaxes, happy to talk about work. “I am a
silent partner. I’m not particularly interested in the beauty
business, but she’s built it into a successful venture. I just
invested and helped get her started.”
invested and helped get her started.”
“Why?”
“I owed it to her.”
“Oh?”
“When I dropped out of Harvard, she lent me a
hundred grand to start my business.”
Holy fuck . . . she’s rich, too.
“You dropped out?”
“It wasn’t my thing. I did two years. Unfortunately, my
parents were not so understanding.”
I frown. Mr. Grey and Dr. Grace Trevelyan
disapproving, I can’t picture it.
“You don’t seem to ha一ve done too badly dropping out.
What was your major?”
“Politics and Economics.”
Hmm . . . figures.
“So she’s rich?” I murmur.
“She was a bored trophy wife, Anastasia. Her husband
was wealthy—big in timber.” He smirks. “He wouldn’t let
her work. You know, he was controlling. Some men are
her work. You know, he was controlling. Some men are
like that.” He gives me a quick sideways grin.
“Really? A controlling man, surely a mythical
creature?” I don’t think I can squeeze any more sarcasm
into my response.
Christian’s grin gets bigger.
“She lent you her husband’s money?”
He nods and a small mischievous smile appears on his
lips.
“That’s terrible.”
“He got his own back,” Christian says darkly as he
pulls into the underground garage at Escala.
Oh?
“How?”
Christian shakes his head as if recalling a particularly
sour memory and parks beside the Audi Quattro SUV.
“Come—Franco will be here shortly.”
In the elevator Christian peers down at me. “Still mad at
In the elevator Christian peers down at me. “Still mad at
me?” he asks matter-of-factly.
“Very.”
He nods. “Okay,” he says, and stares straight ahead.
Taylor is waiting for us when we arrive in the foyer.
How does he always know? He takes my case.
“Has Welch been in touch?” Christian asks.
“Yes, sir.”
“And?”
“Everything’s arranged.”
“Excellent. How’s your daughter?”
“She’s fine, thank you, sir.”
“Good. We ha
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