Chapter Twenty-Three
I glance nervously around the bar but cannot see him.
“Ana, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It’s Christian. He’s here.”
“What? Really?” She glances around the bar, too.
I have neglected to mention Christian’s stalker tendencies to my mom.
I see him. My heart leaps, beginning a jittery thumping beat as he makes his way toward us.
He’s really here—for me. My inner goddess leaps up cheering from her chaise longue.
He moves smoothly through the crowd, his hair glinting burnished copper and red under the recessed halogens.
His bright, gray eyes are shining with—anger?
Tension? His mouth is set in a grim line, jaw tense.
Oh, holy shit…no. I am so mad at him right now, and here he is.
How can I be angry with him in front of my mother?
He arrives at our table, gazing at me warily. He’s dressed in his customary white linen shirt and jeans.
“Hi,” I squeak, unable to hide my shock and awe at seeing him here in the flesh.
“Hi,” he replies, and leaning down, he kisses my cheek, taking me by surprise.
“Christian, this is my mother, Carla.” My ingrained manners take over.
He turns to greet my mom. “Mrs. Adams, I am delighted to meet you.”
How does he know her name? He gives her the heart-stopping, Christian Grey–patented, full-blown, take-no-prisoners smile.
She doesn’t have a hope. My mother’s lower jaw practically hits the table.
Jeez, get a grip, Mom. She takes his proffered hand, and they shake.
My mother hasn’t replied. Oh, complete dumbfounded speechlessness is genetic—I had no idea.
“Christian,” she manages finally, breathlessly.
He smiles knowingly at her, his gray eyes twinkling.
I narrow my eyes at them both. “What are you doing here?” My question sounds more brittle than I mean, and his smile disappears, his expression now guarded.
I’m thrilled to see him but completely thrown off balance, my anger about Mrs. Robinson simmering through my veins.
I don’t know if I want to shout at him or throw myself into his arms—but I don’t think he’d like either—and I want to know how long he has been watching us.
I’m also a little anxious about the email I just sent him.
“I came to see you, of course.” He gazes down at me impassively. Oh, what is he thinking? “I’m staying in this hotel.”
“You’re staying here?” I sound like a sophomore on amphetamines, too high-pitched even for my own ears.
“Well, yesterday you said you wished I was here.” He pauses, trying to gauge my reaction. “We aim to please, Miss Steele.” His voice is quiet with no trace of humor.
Crap, is he mad? Maybe the Mrs. Robinson comments? Or the fact that I am on my third, soon to be fourth, Cosmo?
My mother is glancing anxiously at the two of us. “Won’t you join us for a drink, Christian?” She waves to the waiter, who is at her side in a nanosecond.
“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” Christian says. “Hendrick’s if you have it, or Bombay Sapphire. Cucumber with the Hendrick’s, lime with the Bombay.”
Holy hell. Only Christian could make a meal out of ordering a drink.
“And two more Cosmos, please,” I add, looking anxiously at Christian. I am drinking with my mother—no way can he be angry about that.
“Please pull up a chair, Christian.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Adams.” Christian pulls a nearby chair over and sits gracefully down beside me.
“So you just happen to be staying in the hotel where we’re drinking?” I ask, trying hard to keep my tone light.
“Or you just happen to be drinking in the hotel where I’m staying,” Christian replies.
“I just finished dinner, came in here, and saw you. I was distracted, thinking about your most recent email, and I glance up and there you are. Quite a coincidence, eh?” He cocks his head to one side, and I see a trace of a smile.
Thank heavens—we may be able to save the evening after all.
“My mother and I were shopping this morning and on the beach this afternoon. We decided on a few cocktails this evening.” I feel I owe him some sort of explanation.
“Did you buy that top?” He nods at my brand-new green silk camisole. “The color suits you. And you’ve caught some sun. You look lovely.”
My face warms, speechless at his compliment.
“Well, I was going to pay you a visit tomorrow. But here you are.”
He reaches over, takes my hand, and squeezes it gently, running his thumb across my knuckles to and fro…
and I feel the familiar pull. The electric charge zapping beneath my skin under the gentle pressure from his thumb, firing into my bloodstream and pulsing around my body, heating everything in its path.
It’s been more than two days since I saw him and I want him.
My breath hitches. I blink at him, smiling shyly, and see a smile play on his lips.
“I thought I’d surprise you. But as ever, Anastasia, you surprise me by being here.”
I glance quickly at Mom, who is staring at Christian.
Yes, staring! Stop it, Mom. As if he’s some exotic creature, never seen before.
I mean, I know I’ve never had a boyfriend, and Christian only qualifies as such for ease of reference—but is it so unbelievable that I could attract a man?
This man? Yes, frankly—look at him! my subconscious snaps.
Oh, shut up! Who invited you to the party?
I scowl at my mom—but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“I don’t want to interrupt the time you have with your mother. I’ll have a quick drink and then retire. I have work to do,” he states earnestly.
“Christian, it’s lovely to meet you finally,” Mom interjects, finally finding her voice. “Ana has spoken very fondly of you.”
He smiles at her. “Really?” He raises an eyebrow at me, an amused expression on his face, and I flush again.
The waiter arrives with our drinks. “Hendrick’s, sir,” he says with a triumphant flourish.
“Thank you,” Christian murmurs in acknowledgment.
I sip my latest Cosmo nervously.
“How long are you in Georgia, Christian?” Mom asks.
“Until Friday, Mrs. Adams.”
“Will you have dinner with us tomorrow evening? And please, call me Carla.”
“I’d be delighted to, Carla.”
“Excellent. If you two will excuse me, I need to visit the restroom.”
Mom…you’ve just been. I watch her desperately as she stands and walks off, leaving us alone together.
“So, you’re mad at me for having dinner with an old friend.” Christian turns his burning, wary gaze to me, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing each knuckle gently.
He wants to do this now?
“Yes,” I murmur as my heated blood courses through me.
“Our sexual relationship was over long ago, Anastasia. I don’t want anyone but you. Haven’t you worked that out yet?”
“I think of her as a child molester, Christian.” I hold my breath waiting for his reaction.
Christian blanches. “That’s very judgmental. It wasn’t like that,” he whispers, shocked. He releases my hand.
Judgmental?
“Oh, how was it, then?” I snap. The Cosmos are making me brave.
He frowns at me, bewildered.
I continue. “She took advantage of a vulnerable fifteen-year-old boy. If you had been a fifteen-year-old girl and Mrs. Robinson was a Mr. Robinson, tempting you into a BDSM lifestyle, that would have been okay? If it was Mia, say?”
He gasps and scowls at me. “Ana, it wasn’t like that.”
I glare at him.
“Okay, it didn’t feel like that to me,” he continues quietly. “She was a force for good. What I needed.”
“I don’t understand.” It’s my turn to look bewildered.
“Anastasia, your mother will be back shortly. I’m not comfortable talking about this now. Later, maybe. If you don’t want me here, I have a plane on standby at Hilton Head. I can go.”
He’s angry with me…no.
“No—don’t go. Please. I’m thrilled you’re here.
I’m just trying to make you understand. I’m angry that as soon as I left, you had dinner with her.
Think about how you are when I get anywhere near José.
José is a good friend. I have never had a sexual relationship with him.
Whereas you and her—” I stop, unwilling to take the thought further.
“You’re jealous?” He stares at me, dumbfounded, and his eyes soften slightly, warming.
“Yes, and angry about what she did to you.”
“Anastasia, she helped me. That’s all I’ll say about that.
And as for your jealousy, put yourself in my shoes.
I haven’t had to justify my actions to anyone in the past seven years.
Not one person. I do as I wish, Anastasia.
I like my autonomy. I didn’t go to see Mrs. Robinson to upset you.
I went because every now and then we have dinner. She’s a friend and a business partner.”
Business partner? Holy crap. This is news.
He gazes at me, assessing my expression. “Yes, we’re business partners. The sex is over between us. It has been for years.”
“Why did your relationship end?”
His mouth narrows and his eyes gleam. “Her husband found out.”
Holy shit!
“Can we talk about this some other time—somewhere more private?” he growls.
“I don’t think you’ll ever convince me that she’s not some kind of pedophile.”
“I don’t think of her that way. I never have. Now that’s enough!” he snaps.
“Did you love her?”
“How are you two getting on?” My mother has returned, unseen by either of us.
I plaster a fake smile on my face as both Christian and I lean back hastily…guiltily. She studies me once more.
“Fine, Mom.”
Christian sips his drink, watching me closely, his expression guarded. What is he thinking? Did he love her? I think if he did, I will lose it, big time.
“Well, ladies, I shall leave you to your evening.”
No…no…he can’t leave me hanging like this.
“Please put these drinks on my tab, room number 612. I’ll call you in the morning, Anastasia. Until tomorrow, Carla.”
“Oh, it’s so nice to hear someone use your full name.”
“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” Christian murmurs, shaking her outstretched hand, and she actually simpers.