and pull out the envelope with his check.
“Here, this is yours.”
Christian looks at me quizzically, then recognizing the
envelope, raises both his hands and steps away from me.
“Oh no. That’s your money.”
“No, it isn’t. I’d like to buy the car from you.”
His expression changes completely. Fury—yes, fury—
sweeps across his face.
“No, Anastasia. Your money, your car,” he snaps at
“No, Anastasia. Your money, your car,” he snaps at
me.
“No, Christian. My money, your car. I’ll buy it from
you.”
“I ga一ve you that car for your graduation present.”
“If you’d given me a pen—that would be a suitable
graduation present. You ga一ve me an Audi.”
“Do you really want to argue about this?”
“No.”
“Good—here are the keys.” He puts them on the chest
of drawers.
“That’s not what I meant!”
“End of discussion, Anastasia. Don’t push me.”
I scowl at him, then inspiration hits me. Taking the
envelope, I rip it in two, then two again and drop the
contents into my waste bin. Oh, that feels good.
Christian gazes at me impassively, but I know I’ve just
lit the blue touch paper and should stand well back. He
strokes his chin.
“You are, as ever, challenging, Miss Steele,” he says
“You are, as ever, challenging, Miss Steele,” he says
dryly. He turns on his heel and stalks into the other room.
That is not the reaction I expected. I was anticipating full
scale Armageddon. I stare at myself in the mirror and
shrug, deciding on a ponytail.
My curiosity is piqued. What is Fifty doing? I follow
him into the room, and he’s on the phone.
“Yes, twenty-four thousand dollars. Directly.”
He glances up at me, still impassive.
“Good . . . Monday? Excellent . . . No that’s all,
Andrea.”
He snaps the phone shut.
“Deposited in your bank account, Monday. Don’t play
games with me.” He’s boiling mad, but I don’t care.
“Twenty-four thousand dollars!” I’m almost screaming.
“And how do you know my account number?”
My ire takes Christian by surprise.
“I know everything about you, Anastasia,” he says
quietly.
“There’s no w
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