you choose all those clothes?”
“Um . . . not yet. Did you choose all those clothes?”
“No, Anastasia, I didn’t. I ga一ve a list and your size to a
personal shopper at Neiman Marcus. They should fit. Just
so that you know, I ha一ve ordered additional security for
this evening and the next few days. With Leila
unpredictable and unaccounted for somewhere on the
streets of Seattle, I think it’s a wise precaution. I don’t
want you going out unaccompanied. Okay?”
I blink at him. “Okay.” What happened to I-mustha一ve-
you-now Grey?
“Good. I’m going to brief them. I shouldn’t be long.”
“They’re here?”
“Yes.”
Where?
Collecting his plate, Christian places it in the sink and
disappears from the room. What the hell was that about?
He’s like several different people in one body. Isn’t that a
symptom of schizophrenia? I must Google that.
I clear my plate, wash up quickly, and head back up to
my bedroom carrying the ANASTASIA ROSE STEELE
dossier. Back in the walk-in closet, I pull out the three long
evening dresses. Now, which one?
Lying down on the bed, I gaze at my Mac, my iPad, and
my Blackberry. I am overwhelmed with technology. I set
about transferring Christian’s playlist from my iPad to the
Mac, then fire up Google to surf the net.
I’m lying across the bed looking at my Mac as Christian
enters.
“What are you doing?” he inquires softly.
I panic briefly, wondering if I should let him see the
website I’m on: Multiple Personality Disorder: The
Symptoms.
Stretching out beside me, he eyes the webpage with
amusement.
“On this site for a reason?” he asks nonchalantly.
Brusque Christian has gone—playful Christian is back.
How the hell am I supposed to keep up with this?
“Research. Into a difficult personality.” I give him my
most deadpan look.
His lips twitch with a suppressed smile. “A difficult
personality?”
“My own pet project.”
“I’m a pet project now? A sideline. Science
experiment maybe. When I thought I was everything. Miss
Steele, you wound me.”
“How do you know it’s you?”
“Wild
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