ng—um . . .
patrolling today?” I glance slyly in Sawyer’s direction to
see the backs of his ears turn red.
“Yes,” Christian snaps, his eyes glacial.
“If I was driving the Saab it would be easier,” I mutter
petulantly.
“Sawyer will ha一ve a car, and he can drive you to your
“Sawyer will ha一ve a car, and he can drive you to your
apartment, depending on what time.”
“Okay. I think Ethan will probably contact me during
the day. I’ll let you know what the plans are then.”
He gazes at me, saying nothing. Oh, what is he
thinking?
“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Nowhere on your own. Do
you understand?” He wa一ves a long finger at me.
“Yes, dear,” I mutter.
There’s a trace of a smile on his face. “And maybe you
should just use your Blackberry—I’ll e-mail you on it.
That should prevent my IT guy ha一ving a thoroughly
interesting morning, okay?” His voice is sardonic.
“Yes, Christian.” I can’t resist. I roll my eyes at him,
and he smirks at me.
“Why Miss Steele, I do believe you’re making my
palm twitch.”
“Ah, Mr. Grey, your perpetually twitching palm. What
are we going to do with that?”
He laughs and then is distracted by his Blackberry,
which must be on vibrate because it doesn’t ring. He
frowns when he sees the caller ID.
“What is it?” he snaps into the phone, then listens
intently. I use the opportunity to study his lovely features—
his straight nose, his hair hanging scruffily over his
forehead. I am distracted from my surreptitious ogling by
his expression, which turns from incredulity to amusement.
I pay attention.
“You’re kidding . . . For a scene . . . When did he tell
you this?” Christian chuckles, almost reluctantly. “No,
you this?” Christian chuckles, almost reluctantly. “No,
don’t worry. You don’t ha一ve to apologize. I’m glad
there’s a logical explanation. It did seem a ridiculously low
amount of money . . . I ha一ve no doub一t you’ve something
evil and creative planned for your revenge. Poor Isaac.”
He smiles. “Good . . . Good-bye.” He snaps the phone
shut and glances at me. H
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