was easier than I thought. “Why the additional security for your
family?”
“Hyde was a threat to them.”
“How do you know?”
“From his computer. It held personal details about me and the rest of my
family. Especially Carrick.”
“Carrick? Why him?”
“I don’t know yet. Let’s go to bed.”
“Christian, tell me!”
“Tell you what?”
“You are so . . . exasperating.”
“So are you.” He glares at me.
“You didn’t ramp up the security when you first found out there was
information about your family on the computer. So what happened?
Why now?”
Christian narrows his eyes at me.
“I didn’t know he was going to attempt to burn down my building, or—” He
stops. “We thought it was an unwelcome obsession, but you know”—he
shrugs—“when you’re in the public eye, people are interested. It was random
stuff: news reports on me from when I was at Harvard—my rowing, my
career. Reports on Carrick—following his career, following my mom’s career
—and to some extent, Elliot and Mia.
How strange.
“You said or,” I prompt.
“Or what?”
“You said, ‘attempt to burn down my building, or . . .’ like you were going to
say something else.”
“Are you hungry?”
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Fifty Shades Freed
What? I frown at him, and my stomach rumbles.
“Did you eat today?” His voice is sterner and his eyes frost. I’m betrayed by
my flush.
“As I thought.” His voice is clipped. “You know how I feel about you not eating.
Come,” he says. He stands and holds out his hand. “Let me feed you.” And
he shifts again . . . this time his voice full of sensual promise.
“Feed me?” I whisper as everything south of my na一vel liquefies. Hell. This is
such a typically mercurial persion from what we’ve been discussing. Is that
it? Is that all I’m getting out of him for now?
Leading me over to the kitchen, Christian grabs a bar stool and hefts it
around to the other side of the island.
“Sit,” he says.
“Where’s Mrs. Jones?” I ask, noticing her absence for the first time as I perch
on the stool.
“I’ve given her and Taylor the night off.”
Oh.
“Why?”
He gazes
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