Book 1 - Page 100 (1/2)

Fifty Shades E.L. James 23480K 2022-07-22

”When were you going to tell me you were leaving?” he asks urgently. His tone is soft, but he's masking his anger.

”I'm not leaving, I'm going to see my mother, and I was only thinking about it.”

”What about our arrangement?”

”We don't have an arrangement yet.”

He narrows his eyes, and then seems to remember himself. Releasing my hand, he takes my elbow and leads me out of the room.

”This conversation is not over,” he whispers threateningly as we enter the dining room.

Oh, c.r.a.pola. Don't get your panties in such a twist... and give me back mine. I glare at him.

The dining room reminds me of our private dinner at the Heathman. A crystal chandelier hangs over the dark wood table and there's a ma.s.sive, ornately carved mirror on the wall. The table is laid and covered with a crisp white linen tablecloth, a bowl of pale pink peonies as the center piece. It's stunning.

We take our places. Mr. Grey is at the head of the table, while I sit at his right hand, and Christian is seated beside me. Mr. Grey reaches for the opened bottle of red wine and offers some to Kate. Mia takes her seat beside Christian, and grabbing his hand, squeezes it tightly. Christian smiles warmly at her.

”Where did you meet, Ana?” Mia asks him.

”She interviewed me for the WSU student magazine.”

”Which Kate edits,” I add, hoping to steer the conversation away from me.

Mia beams at Kate, seated opposite next to Elliot, and they start talking about the student magazine.

”Wine, Ana?” Mr. Grey asks.

”Please.” I smile at him. Mr. Grey rises to fill the rest of the gla.s.ses.

I peek up at Christian, and he turns to look at me, his head c.o.c.ked to one side.

”What?” he asks.

”Please don't be mad at me,” I whisper.

”I'm not mad at you.”

I stare at him. He sighs.

”Yes, I am mad at you.” He closes his eyes briefly.

”Palm-twitchingly mad?” I ask nervously.

”What are you two whispering about?” Kate interjects.

I flush, and Christian glares at her in a b.u.t.t-out-of-this-Kavanagh kind of way - even Kate wilts under his stare.

”Just about my trip to Georgia,” I say sweetly, hoping to diffuse their mutual hostility.

Kate smiles, a wicked gleam in her eye.

”How was Jose when you went to the bar with him on Friday?”