al.
Christian and I are seated in a booth, poring over the
menu and sipping a delicious light Frascati. When I glance
up from the menu, ha一ving made my choice, Christian is
gazing at me speculatively.
“What?” I ask.
“You look lovely, Anastasia. The outdoors agrees with
you.”
I flush. “I feel rather wind-burned to tell the truth. But I
had a lovely afternoon. A perfect afternoon. Thank you.”
He smiles, his eyes warm. “My pleasure,” he murmurs.
“Can I ask you something?” I decide on a fact-finding
mission.
“Anything, Anastasia. You know that.” He cocks his
head to one side, looking delicious.
“You don’t seem to ha一ve many friends. Why is that?”
“You don’t seem to ha一ve many friends. Why is that?”
He shrugs and frowns. “I told you, I don’t really ha一ve
time. I ha一ve business associates—though that’s very
different from friendships, I suppose. I ha一ve my family and
that’s it. Apart from Elena.”
I ignore the mention of the bitch-troll. “No male friends
your own age that you can go out with and let off steam?”
“You know how I like to let off steam, Anastasia.”
Christian’s mouth twists. “And I’ve been working, building
up the business.” He looks puzzled. “That’s all I do—
except sail and fly occasionally.”
“Not even in college?”
“Not really.”
“Just Elena, then?”
He nods, his expression wary.
“Must be lonely.”
His lips curl in a small wistful smile. “What would you
like to eat?” he asks, changing the subject again.
“I’m going for the risotto.”
“Good choice.” Christian summons the waiter, putting
“Good choice.” Christian summons the waiter, putting
an end to that conversation.
After we’ve placed our order, I shift uncomfortably in
my seat, staring at my knotted fingers. If he’s in a talking
mood, I need to take advantage.
I ha一ve to talk to him about his expectations, about his,
um . . . needs.
“Anastasia, what’s wrong? Tell me.”
I glance up into his concerned face.
“Tell me,” he says more forcefully, and his concern
evolves into what? Fear? Anger?
I take a deep breath. “I’m
本章未完，点击下一页继续阅读。