Shades Freed
He holds his index finger up at me in warning.
“Don’t,” he says. His voice so ominously quiet that I’m immediately silenced
and rooted to my seat. Bowing her head, Prescott walks briskly out of the
room to join Taylor. Christian shuts the door behind her and walks to the
edge of the table. Crap! Crap! Crap! That was my fault. Christian stands
opposite Leila, and placing both hands on the wooden surface, he leans
forward.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growls at her.
“Christian!” I gasp. Christian ignores me.
“Well?” he demands.
Leila peeks up at him through long lashes, her eyes wide, her face ashen,
her rosy glow gone.
“I wanted to see you, and you wouldn’t let me,” she whispers.
“So you came here to harass my wife?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet.
Leila looks down at the table again.
Christian stands glowering at her. “Leila, if you come anywhere near my wife
again, I will cut off all support. Doctors, art school, medical insurance—all of it
—gone. Do you understand?”
“Christian—” I try again. But he silences me with a chilling look. Why is he
being so unreasonable? My compassion for this sad woman blooms.
“Yes,” she says, her voice just audible.
“What’s Susannah doing in reception?”
“She came with me.”
He runs a hand through his hair, glaring at her.
“Christian, please,” I beg him. “Leila just wants to say thank you. That’s all.”
He ignores me, concentrating his wrath on Leila. “Did you stay with
Susannah while you were sick?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know what you were doing while you were staying with her?”
“No. She was away on vacation.”
He strokes his index finger over his lower lip. “Why do you need to see me?
You know you should route any requests through Flynn. Do you need
something?” His tone has softened, maybe by a fraction. 316 | P a g e
E L JAMES
Leila runs her finger along the edge of the table again. Stop bullying her,
Christian!
“I had to know.” And for the first time she looks up directly at him.
“Had to know what?” he snaps.
“That you
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