come, ma’am.” I think he wants to say more, but he holds off.
Christian is unpacking the box, producing a thermos, soup bowl, side plate,
linen napkin, soupspoon, a small basket of bread rolls, silver salt and pepper
shakers . . . The Olympic has gone all-out.
“This is great, Taylor.” My stomach is rumbling. I am famished.
“Will that be all?” he asks.
“Yes, thanks,” Christian says, dismissing him.
Taylor nods.
“Taylor, thank you.”
“Anything else I can get you, Mrs. Grey?”
I glance at Christian. “Just some clean clothes for Christian.”
Taylor smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”
Christian glances down at his shirt, bemused.
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E L JAMES
“How long ha一ve you been wearing that shirt?” I ask.
“Since Thursday morning.” He gives me a crooked smile. Taylor exits.
“Taylor’s real pissed at you, too,” Christian adds grumpily, unscrewing the lid
of the thermos and pouring creamy chicken soup into the bowl.
Taylor, too! But I don’t dwell on that as my chicken soup distracts me. It
smells delicious, and steam curls invitingly from its surface. I take a taste and
it’s everything it promised to be.
“Good?” Christian asks, perching on the bed again.
I nod enthusiastically and don’t stop. My hunger is primal. I pause only to
wipe my mouth on the linen napkin.
“Tell me what happened—after you realized what was going on.”
Christian runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head. “Oh, Ana, it’s
good to see you eat.”
“I’m hungry. Tell me.”
He frowns. “Well, after the bank called and I thought my world had completely
fallen apart—” He can’t hide the pain in his voice. I stop eating . Oh shit.
“Don’t stop eating, or I’ll stop talking,” he whispers, his tone adamant as he
glares at me. I continue with my soup. Okay, okay . . . Damn, it tastes good.
Christian’s gaze softens and after a beat, he resumes.
“Anyway, shortly after you and I had finished our conversation, Taylor
informed me that Hyde had been granted bail. How, I don’t know, I thought
we’d managed to thwart any attempts at bail. B
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