Chapter Six
Christian opens the passenger-side door to the black Audi SUV, and I clamber in.
It’s a beast of a car. He hasn’t mentioned the outburst of passion that exploded in the elevator.
Should I? Should we talk about it or pretend it didn’t happen?
It hardly seems real—my first proper no-holds-barred kiss.
As time ticks on, I assign it mythical, Arthurian legend, Lost City of Atlantis status.
It never happened; it never existed. Perhaps I imagined it all.
No. I touch my lips, swollen from his kiss. It definitely happened. I’m a changed woman. I want this man desperately, and he wanted me.
I glance at him. Christian is his usual polite, slightly distant self.
How confusing.
He starts the engine and reverses out of his space in the parking lot.
He switches on the sound system. The car interior is filled with the sweetest, most magical music of two women singing.
Oh wow…all my senses are in disarray, so this is doubly affecting.
It sends delicious shivers up my spine. Christian pulls out onto Southwest Park Avenue, and he drives with easy, lazy confidence.
“What are we listening to?”
“It’s Delibes’s “Flower Duet,” from the opera Lakmé. Do you like it?”
“Christian, it’s wonderful.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He grins, glancing at me. And for a fleeting moment, he seems his age: young, carefree, and heart-stoppingly beautiful.
Is this the key to him? Music? I sit and listen to the angelic voices teasing and seducing me.
“Can I hear that again?”
“Of course.” Christian pushes a button, and the music is caressing me once more. It’s a gentle, slow, sweet, and sure assault on my aural senses.
“You like classical music?” I ask, hoping for a rare insight into his personal preferences.
“My taste is eclectic, Anastasia, everything from Thomas Tallis to the Kings of Leon. It depends on my mood. You?”
“Me, too. Though I don’t know who Thomas Tallis is.”
He turns and gives me a quick unreadable look before his eyes are back on the road.
“I’ll play it for you sometime. He’s a sixteenth-century British composer. Tudor, church choral music.” Christian grins. “Sounds very esoteric, I know, but it’s also magical.”
He presses a button and the Kings of Leon start singing. Hmm, this I know. “Sex on Fire.” How appropriate. The music is interrupted by the sound of a cell phone ringing over the sound system speakers.
Christian hits a button on the steering wheel. “Grey,” he snaps. He’s so brusque.
A rasping, disembodied voice comes over the speakers. “Mr. Grey, it’s Welch here. I have the information you require.”
“Good. Email it to me. Anything to add?”
“No, sir.”
He presses the button, then the call ceases and the music is back. No goodbye or thanks. I’m so glad that I never seriously entertained the thought of working for him. I shudder at the very idea. He’s just too controlling and cold with his employees. The music cuts off again for the phone.
“Grey.”
“The NDA has been emailed to you, Mr. Grey.” A woman’s voice.
“Good. That’s all, Andrea.”
“Good day, sir.”
Christian hangs up by pressing a button on the steering wheel. The music is on very briefly when the phone rings again. Holy hell, is this his life—constant nagging phone calls?
“Grey,” he snaps.
“Hi, Christian, d’you get laid?”
Christian sighs. “Hello, Elliot. I’m on speakerphone, and I’m not alone in the car.”
“Who’s with you?”
Christian rolls his eyes. “Anastasia Steele.”
“Hi, Ana!”
Ana!
“Hello, Elliot.”
“Heard a lot about you,” Elliot murmurs huskily.
Christian frowns.
“Don’t believe a word Kate says.”
Elliot laughs.
“I’m dropping Anastasia off now.” Christian emphasizes my full name. “Shall I pick you up?”
“Sure.”
“See you shortly.” Christian hangs up, and the music is back.
“Why do you insist on calling me Anastasia?”
“Because it’s your name.”
“I prefer Ana.”
“Do you, now?”
We are almost at my apartment. It’s not taken long.
“Anastasia,” he muses. I scowl at him, but he ignores my expression. “What happened in the elevator—it won’t happen again. Well, not unless it’s premeditated.”
He pulls up outside my apartment. I belatedly realize he’s not asked me where I live—yet he knows. But then he sent the books; of course he knows where I live. What able, cell phone–tracking, helicopter-owning stalker wouldn’t?
Why won’t he kiss me again? I pout at the thought. I don’t understand. Honestly, his surname should be Cryptic, not Grey.
He climbs out of the car, walking with easy, long-legged grace around to my side to open the door, ever the gentleman—except perhaps in rare, precious moments in elevators.
I flush at the memory of his mouth on mine, and the thought that I’d been unable to touch him enters my mind.
I wanted to run my fingers through his decadent, untidy hair, but I’d been unable to move my hands. I am retrospectively frustrated.
“I liked what happened in the elevator,” I murmur as I climb out of the car. I’m not sure if I hear an audible gasp, but I choose to ignore it and head up the steps to the front door.
Kate and Elliot are sitting at our dining table.
The $14,000 books have disappeared. Thank heavens.
I have plans for them. She has the most un-Kate-like ridiculous grin on her face, and she looks mussed up in a sexy kind of way.
Christian follows me into the living room, and in spite of her I’ve-been-having-a-good-time-all-night grin, Kate eyes him suspiciously.
“Hi, Ana.” She leaps up to hug me, then pulls away so she can examine me. She frowns and turns to Christian. “Good morning, Christian,” she says, and her tone is a little hostile.
“Miss Kavanagh,” he says in his stiff, formal way.
“Christian, her name is Kate,” Elliot grumbles.
“Kate.” Christian gives her a polite nod and glares at Elliot, who grins and rises to hug me, too.
“Hi, Ana.” He smiles, his blue eyes twinkling, and I like him immediately. He’s obviously nothing like Christian, but then they’re adopted brothers.
“Hi, Elliot.” I smile at him, and I’m aware that I’m biting my lip.
“Elliot, we’d better go,” Christian says mildly.
“Sure.” He turns to Kate, pulls her into his arms, and gives her a long, lingering kiss.
Jeez…get a room. I stare at my feet, embarrassed. I glance up at Christian, and he’s watching me intently. I narrow my eyes at him. Why can’t you kiss me like that?
Elliot continues to kiss Kate, sweeping her off her feet and dipping her in a dramatic hold so that her hair touches the ground as he kisses her hard.
“Laters, baby.” He grins.
Kate just melts. I’ve never seen her melt before—the word compliant comes to mind. Compliant Kate. Boy, Elliot must be good.
Christian rolls his eyes then looks at me, his expression unreadable, although maybe he’s mildly amused.
He tucks a stray strand of my hair that has worked its way free from my ponytail behind my ear.
My breath hitches at the contact, and I lean my head into his fingers.
His eyes soften, and he runs his thumb across my lower lip.
My blood sears in my veins. And all too quickly, his touch is gone.
“Laters, baby,” he murmurs, and I have to laugh because it’s so unlike him. But even though I know he’s being irreverent, the endearment tugs at something deep inside me.
“I’ll pick you up at eight.” He turns to leave, opening the front door and stepping out onto the porch. Elliot follows him to the car but turns and blows Kate another kiss, and I feel an unwelcome pang of jealousy.
“So, did you?” Kate asks as we watch them climb into the car and drive off, the burning curiosity evident in her voice.
“No,” I snap irritably, hoping that will halt the questions. We head back into the apartment. “You obviously did, though.” I can’t contain my envy. Kate always manages to ensnare men. She is irresistible, beautiful, sexy, funny, forward…all the things I’m not. But her answering grin is infectious.
“And I’m seeing him again this evening.” She claps her hands and jumps up and down like a small child. She cannot contain her excitement and happiness, and I can’t help but feel happy for her. A happy Kate… This is going to be interesting.
“Christian is taking me to Seattle this evening.”
“Seattle?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you will then?”
“Oh, I hope so.”
“You like him, then?”
“Yes.”
“Like him enough to…?”
“Yes.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Wow. Ana Steele, finally falling for a man, and it’s Christian Grey—hot, sexy billionaire.”
“Oh yeah—it’s all about the money.” I smirk, and we both fall into a fit of giggles.
“Is that a new blouse?” she asks, and I let her have all the unexciting details about my night.
“Has he kissed you yet?” she asks as she makes coffee.
I blush. “Once.”
“Once!” she scoffs.
I nod, rather shamefaced. “He’s very reserved.”
She frowns. “That’s odd.”
“I don’t think ‘odd’ covers it, really.”
“We need to make sure you’re simply irresistible for this evening,” she says with determination.
Oh no… This sounds like it will be time-consuming, humiliating, and painful.
“I have to be at work in an hour.”
“I can work with that time frame. Come on.” Kate grabs my hand and takes me into her bedroom.
The day drags at Clayton’s even though we’re busy. We’ve hit the summer season, so I have to spend two hours restocking the shelves once the shop is closed. It’s mindless work, and it gives me too much time to think. I’ve not really had a chance all day.