“All charges, everything,” I interrupt. My blood’s boiling. What an asshole. “Ana’s father is in the ICU. I want you to throw the fucking book at him, Dad.”
“Son—I can’t get involved, because of the family connection. But one of the women I work with specializes in this kind of law. With your permission, she can act on behalf of your father-in-law, and she’ll press for the heaviest penalties.”
I blow out a breath, trying to calm down. “Good,” I mutter.
“I have to go, son. There’s another call on the line. See you later.”
“Keep me informed.”
“Will do.”
“The other driver?” Ana asks, when I’ve hung up.
“Some drunken asshole from southeast Portland.”
Her eyes widen, probably at my tone, but Jeffrey Lance deserves it. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I amble over to her. “Finished with Ray? Do you want to go?”
“Um, no.” She looks anxious.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Ray’s being taken to radiology for a CT scan to check the swelling in his brain. I’d like to wait for the results.”
“Okay. We’ll wait.” Sitting down, I hold out my arms and she climbs into my lap. I stroke her back and inhale the scent of her hair. It’s soothing. “This is not how I envisaged spending today,” I murmur against her temple.
“Me neither, but I’m feeling more positive now. Your mom was very reassuring. It was kind of her to come last night.”
“My mom is an amazing woman.” I continue caressing her back and rest my chin on her head.
“She is. You’re very lucky to have her.”
I couldn’t agree more, Ana.
“I should call my mom. Tell her about Ray,” she says.
Uh-oh. At this moment her mom should be en route to Portland.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t called me.” She frowns, and I feel a little guilty about my subterfuge.
“Maybe she did,” I offer.
Ana fishes her phone out of her pocket but finds no missed calls. She looks through her texts, and from what I can see she’s received birthday wishes from her friends, but as I suspected, nothing from her mother. She shakes her head.
“Call her now,” I say, knowing she won’t get a reply. Ana does, but she soon hangs up.
“She’s not there. I’ll call later when I know the results of the brain scan.”
Drawing her closer, I kiss her hair. I long to tell her, but that would blow the surprise. My own phone buzzes. Without letting go of Ana, I tug it out of my pocket.
“Andrea.”
“Mr. Grey. Just to let you know that Mr. and Mrs. Adams took off from Savannah fifteen minutes ago.”
“Good.”
“Taylor is primed to pick them up from the airport.”
“ETA is what time?” I don’t want Ana and me to run into them at the hotel.
“At present, four thirty-five.”
“And the other, um”—I glance down at Ana, not wanting to give the game away—“packages?”
“They’re all set. Your father is driving down. Your brother, sister, Kate, and Ethan Kavanagh will be flying down with Stephan. They can’t leave until five thirty because of your sister’s new job, but they should be with you by six thirty.”
“Does The Heathman have all the details?”
“Rooms have been booked for all of them. Dinner is booked for twelve people at seven thirty. They are offering the full menu and a cake—chocolate, as requested.”
“Good.”
“Ros wanted to know if you got her notes on the shipyard deal. If you’re happy with them, she can send the Heads of Agreement for signing.”
“Yes. It can hold until Monday morning, but e-mail it just in case—I’ll print, sign, and scan it back to you.”
“Samir and Helena have an HR issue they want to discuss, and Marco needs two minutes.”
“They can wait. Go home, Andrea.”
I think I hear her smile on the end of the phone. “Is there anything else you need? I’m on my cell if you do.”
“No, we’re good, thank you.” I hang up.
“Everything okay?” Ana asks.
“Yes.”
“Is this your Taiwan thing?”
“Yes.”
“Am I too heavy?”
As if! “No, baby.”
She asks me if I’m worried about the Taiwan deal and I assure her I’m not.
“I thought it was important.”
“It is. The shipyard here depends on it. There are lots of jobs at stake. We just have to sell it to the unions. That’s Sam and Ros’s job. But the way the economy’s heading, none of us have a lot of choice.”
Ana yawns.
“Am I boring you, Mrs. Grey?” Amused, I kiss her hair once more.
“No! Never. I’m just very comfortable on your lap,” she murmurs. “I like hearing about your business.”
“You do?”
“Of course. I like hearing any bit of information you deign to share with me.” She smirks, and I know she’s teasing me.
“Always hungry for more information, Mrs. Grey.”
“Tell me.” She rests her head against my chest again.
“Tell you what?”
“Why you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Work the way you do.”
I snort, amused, because it’s obvious, isn’t it? “A guy’s got to earn a living.”
“Christian, you earn more than a living,” she says, her eyes as guileless as ever, demanding the truth.
“I don’t want to be poor. I’ve done that. I’m not going back there again.”
The hunger.
The insecurity.
The vulnerability.
…The fear.
Grey, lighten up. It’s her birthday.
“Besides, it’s a game. It’s about winning. A game I’ve always found very easy.”
“Unlike life,” she mutters, almost to herself.