Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

invitation. The realization is bleak and depressing. My subconscious nods sagely, a you’ve-finally-worked-it-out-stupid look on her face.
    “Dinner’s almost ready,” Grace says as she follows Mia out of the room.
    Christian frowns as he gazes at me.
    “Sit,” he commands, pointing to the plush couch, and I do as I’m told, carefully crossing my legs. He sits down beside me but doesn’t touch me.
    “We were just talking about vacations, Ana,” Mr. Grey says kindly. “Elliot has decided to follow Kate and her family to Barbados for a week.”
    I glance at Kate, and she grins, her eyes bright and wide. She’s delighted. Katherine Kavanagh, show some dignity!
    “Are you taking a break now you’ve finished your degree?” Mr. Grey asks.
    “I’m thinking about going to Georgia for a few days,” I reply.
    Christian gapes at me, blinking a couple of times, his expression unreadable. Oh shit. I haven’t mentioned this to him.
    “Georgia?” he murmurs.
    “My mother lives there, and I haven’t seen her for a while.”
    “When were you thinking of going?” His voice is low.
    “Tomorrow, late evening.”
    Mia saunters back into the living room and hands us champagne flutes filled with pale pink Prosecco.
    “Your good health!” Mr. Grey raises his glass. An appropriate toast from a doctor’s husband, it makes me smile.
    “For how long?” Christian asks, his voice deceptively soft.
    Holy crap… he’s angry.
    “I don’t know yet. It will depend how my interviews go tomorrow.”
    His jaw clenches, and Kate gets that interfering look on her face. She smiles over-sweetly.
    “Ana deserves a break,” she says pointedly at Christian. Why is she so antagonistic towards him? What is her problem?
    “You have interviews?” Mr. Grey asks.
    “Yes, for internships at two publishers, tomorrow.”
    “I wish you the best of luck.”
    “Dinner is on the table,” Grace announces.
    We all stand. Kate and Elliot follow Mr. Grey and Mia out of the room. I go to follow, but Christian clutches my elbow, bringing me to an abrupt halt.
    “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, crapola. 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 massive, 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 centerpiece. 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 glasses.
    I peek up at Christian, and he turns to look at me, his head cocked 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 butt-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 José when you went to the bar with him on Friday?”
    Holy fuck, Kate. I widen my eyes at her. What is she doing? She widens her eyes back at me, and I realize