through my veins. This man—God’s gift to women
—loves me.
I find myself grinning goofily at him, and when he
glances down at me, he’s amused yet puzzled by my
expression. I just want to hug myself, I am so happy.
“Whatever you’re high on, I’d like some, Miss Steele,”
he murmurs as Troy heads off to his computer.
“I’m high on you, Mr. Grey.”
“Really? Well you certainly look intoxicated.” He
kisses me briefly. “And thank you for accepting the car.
That was easier than last time.”
“Well, it’s not an Audi A3.”
He smirks. “That’s not the car for you.”
“I liked it.”
“Sir, the 9-3? I’ve located one at our Beverly Hills
dealership. We can ha一ve it here for you in a couple of
days.” Troy glows with triumph.
“Top of the range?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent.” Christian produces his credit card, or is it
Taylor’s? The thought is unnerving. I wonder how Taylor
is, and if he’s located Leila in the apartment. I rub my
forehead. Yes, there’s all of Christian’s baggage, too.
“If you’ll come this way, Mr.”—Troy glances at the
name on the card—“Grey.”
Christian opens my door, and I climb back into the
passenger seat.
“Thank you,” I say when he’s seated beside me.
He smiles.
“You’re most welcome, Anastasia.”
The music starts again as Christian starts the engine.
“Who’s this?” I ask.
“Eva Cassidy.”
“She has a lovely voice.”
“She does, she did.”
“Oh.”
“She died young.”
“Oh.”
“Are you hungry? You didn’t finish all your breakfast.”
He glances quickly at me, disapproval outlined on his face.
Uh-oh. “Yes.”
“Lunch first, then.”
Christian drives toward the waterfront then heads north
along the Alaskan Way. It’s another beautiful day in
Seattle. It’s been uncharacteristically fine for the last few
weeks, I muse.
Christian looks happy and relaxed as we sit back
listening to Eva Cassidy’s sweet, soulful voice and cruise
down the highway. Ha一ve I ever felt this comfortable in his
company before? I don’t know.
I am less nervous of his moods, confident that he won’t
I am less nervous of his moods, confid
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