.
“I was supposed to ha一ve lunch with Mia.”
He raises his eyebrows, surprised. “You never
mentioned that.”
“I know, I forgot. I couldn’t make it because of the
meeting, and Ethan took her out to lunch instead.”
His face darkens. “I see. Stop biting your lip.”
“I’m going to freshen up,” I say changing the subject
and turning to lea一ve before he can react any further.
Dr. Flynn’s office is a short drive from Christian’s
apartment. Very handy, I muse, for emergency sessions.
“I usually run here from home,” Christian says as he
parks my Saab. “This is a great car.” He smiles at me.
“I think so, too.” I smile back at him. “Christian . . . I
—” I gaze anxiously at him.
“What is it, Ana?”
“Here.” I pull the small black gift box from my purse.
“This is for you for your birthday. I wanted to give it to
you now—but only if you promise not to open it until
Saturday, okay?”
He blinks at me in surprise and swallows. “Okay,” he
murmurs cautiously.
Taking a deep breath, I hand it to him, ignoring his
bemused expression. He shakes the box, and it produces
a very satisfactory rattle. He frowns. I know he’s
desperate to see what it contains. Then he grins, his eyes
alight with youthful, carefree excitement. Oh boy . . . he
looks his age—and so beautiful.
“You can’t open it until Saturday,” I warn him.
“You can’t open it until Saturday,” I warn him.
“I get it,” he says. “Why are you giving this to me
now?” He pops the box into the inside pocket of his blue
pinstriped jacket, close to his heart.
How apt, I muse. I smirk at him.
“Because I can, Mr. Grey.”
His mouth twists with wry amusement.
“Why, Miss Steele, you stole my line.”
We are ushered into Dr. Flynn’s palatial office by a
brisk and friendly receptionist. She greets Christian
warmly, a little too warmly for my taste—jeez, she’s old
enough to be his mother—and he knows her name.
The room is understated: pale green with two dark
green couches facing two leather winged chairs, and it has
the atmosphere of a gentlemen’s club. Dr. F
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