Her gasp is just audible.
How did she think I’d feel? She left me when I’d almost begged her to stay. “You said you’d never leave, yet the going gets tough and you’re out the door.”
“When did I say I’d never leave?”
“In your sleep.” Before we went soaring. “It was the most comforting thing I’d heard in so long, Anastasia. It made me relax.”
She inhales sharply. Her open and honest compassion is written all over her lovely face as she reaches for her wine. This is my chance.
Ask her, Grey.
Ask her the one question I haven’t allowed myself to think about because I know I’ll dread her answer, whatever it is. But I’m curious. I need to know.
“You said you loved me,” I whisper, almost choking on the words. She can’t feel that way about me still. Can she? “Is that now in the past tense?”
“No, Christian, it’s not,” she says, as if in the confessional again. I’m unprepared for the relief that rushes through me. But it’s relief mixed with fear. It’s a confounding combination because I know she shouldn’t love a monster.
“Good,” I mumble, confused. I want to stop thinking about that right now, and with impeccable timing, the waiter returns with our meal.
“Eat,” I demand. The woman needs feeding.
She examines the contents of her plate with distaste.
“So help me God, Anastasia, if you don’t eat, I will take you across my knee here in this restaurant. And it will have nothing to do with my sexual gratification. Eat!”
“Okay. I’ll eat. Stow your twitching palm, please.” She’s trying for humor—but I’m not laughing. She’s wasting away. She picks up her cutlery with stubborn reluctance but she takes one bite, closes her eyes, and licks her lips in satisfaction. The sight of her tongue is enough to provoke a response from my body—already in a heightened state from our kiss in the alley.
Hell, not again! I stop my response in its tracks. There’ll be time for that later, if she says yes. She takes another bite and another and I know she’ll continue eating. I’m grateful for the diversion that our food has provided. Slicing into my steak, I take a bite. It’s not bad.
We continue to eat, watching each other but saying nothing.
She hasn’t told me to fuck off. This is good. And as I study her I realize how much I’m enjoying just being in her company. Okay, so I’m tied up in all kinds of conflicting emotions…but she’s here. She’s with me and she’s eating. I’m hopeful we can make my proposition work. Her reaction to the kiss in the alley was…visceral. She still wants me. I know I could have fucked her there and she wouldn’t have stopped me.
She interrupts my reverie. “Do you know who’s singing?” Over the restaurant sound system, a young woman with a soft lyrical voice can be heard. I don’t know who she is, but we both agree she’s good.
Listening to this singer reminds me that I have the iPad for Ana. I hope that she lets me give it to her, and that she likes it. In addition to the music I uploaded yesterday, I spent some time this morning adding more features—photographs of the glider on my desk and of the two of us at her graduation ceremony and a few apps, too. It’s my apology, and I’m optimistic that the simple message I’ve had engraved on the back conveys my sentiment. I hope she doesn’t think it’s too cheesy. I just need to give it to her first, but I don’t know if we’ll get to that point. I suppress my sigh because she’s always been difficult about accepting gifts from me.
“What?” she asks. She knows I’m up to something, and not for the first time I wonder if she can read my mind.
I shake my head. “Eat up.”
Bright blue eyes regard me. “I can’t manage any more. Have I eaten enough for Sir?”
Is she deliberately trying to goad me? I scrutinize her face, but she seems genuine, and she’s eaten more than half of what was on her plate. If she hasn’t eaten anything over the last few days she’s probably had enough to eat this evening.
“I’m really full,” she reiterates.
As if on cue, my phone vibrates in my jacket pocket, signaling a message. It will be from Taylor, he’s probably close to the gallery by now. I glance at my watch.
“We have to go shortly. Taylor’s here, and you have to be up for work in the morning.” I hadn’t considered that before. She’s working now—she needs sleep. I may have to revise my plans and my body’s expectations. The thought of deferring my desire displeases me.
Ana reminds me that I need to be up for work, too.
“I function on a lot less sleep than you do, Anastasia. At least you’ve eaten something.”
“Aren’t we going back via Charlie Tango?”
“No, I thought I might have a drink—Taylor will pick us up. Besides, this way I have you in the car all to myself—for a few hours, at least. What can we do but talk?” And I can put my proposition to her.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Stage three of the campaign has not gone as smoothly as I anticipated.
She’s made me jealous.
I’ve lost control.
Yes. As usual, she’s derailed me. But I can turn this around and close the deal in the car.
Don’t give up, Grey.
Summoning the waiter, I ask for the check, then call Taylor. He answers on the second ring.
“Mr. Grey.”
“We’re at Le Picotin, Southwest Third Avenue,” I inform him and hang up.
“You’re very brusque with Taylor…In fact, with most people.”
“I just get to the point quickly, Anastasia.”
“You haven’t gotten to the point this evening. Nothing’s changed, Christian.”
Touché, Miss Steele.
Tell her. Tell her, now, Grey.
“I have a proposition for you.”
“This started with a proposition.”
“A different proposition,” I clarify.
She’s a little skeptical, I think, but maybe she’s curious, too. The waiter returns and I give him my card, but I keep my attention on Ana. Well, at least she’s intrigued.
Good.
My heart rate accelerates. I hope she goes for this…or I really will be lost. The waiter hands me the credit card slip to sign. I enter an obscene tip and sign my name with a flourish. The waiter seems excessively grateful. And it’s still irritating.
My phone buzzes and I scan the text. Taylor’s arrived. The waiter gives me my card back and disappears.
“Come. Taylor’s outside.”
We both stand and I take her hand. “I don’t want to lose you, Anastasia,” I murmur, and raise her hand and brush my lips against her knuckles. Her breathing accelerates.
Oh, that sound.
I glance at her face. Her lips are parted, cheeks pink and eyes wide. The sight fills me with hope and desire. I stifle my impulses and lead her through the restaurant and outside, where Taylor is waiting at the curb in the Q7. It occurs to me that Ana might be reluctant to talk if he’s in front.
I have an idea. Opening the rear door, I usher her in, and walk around to the driver’s side. Taylor gets out to open the door for me.
“Good evening, Taylor. Do you have your iPod and headphones?”