Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

you’re being very presumptuous, Mr. Grey. But by way of a change, we could go to my apartment.” I bite my lip deliberately, and his expression darkens.
    “Taylor, Miss Steele’s, please.”
    “Sir,” Taylor acknowledges and he heads off into the traffic.
    “So how has your day been?” he asks.
    “Good. Yours?”
    “Good, thank you.”
    His ridiculously broad grin reflects mine, and he kisses my hand again.
    “You look lovely,” he says.
    “As do you.”
    “Your boss, Jack Hyde, is he good at his job?”
    Whoa! That’s a sudden change in direction? I frown. “Why? This isn’t about your pissing contest?”
    Christian smirks. “That man wants into your panties, Anastasia,” he says dryly.
    I go crimson as my mouth drops open, and I glance nervously at Taylor. My subconscious inhales sharply, shocked.
    “Well, he can want all he likes . . . why are we even having this conversation? You know I have no interest in him whatsoever. He’s just my boss.”
    “That’s the point. He wants what’s mine. I need to know if he’s good at his job.”
    I shrug. “I think so.” Where is he going with this?
    “Well, he’d better leave you alone, or he’ll find himself on his ass on the sidewalk.”
    “Oh, Christian, what are you talking about? He hasn’t done anything wrong.” . . . Yet . He just stands too close.
    “He makes one move, you tell me. It’s called gross moral turpitude—or sexual harassment.”
    “It was just a drink after work.”
    “I mean it. One move and he’s out.”
    “You don’t have that kind of power.” Honestly! And before I roll my eyes at him, the realization hits me with the force of a speeding freight truck. “Do you, Christian?”
    Christian gives me his enigmatic smile.
    “You’re buying the company,” I whisper in horror.
    His smile slips in response to the panic in my voice. “Not exactly,” he says.
    “You’ve bought it. SIP. Already.”
    He blinks at me, warily. “Possibly.”
    “You have or you haven’t?”
    “Have.”
    What the hell? “Why?” I gasp, appalled. Oh, this just is too much.
    “Because I can, Anastasia. I need you safe.”
    “But you said you wouldn’t interfere in my career!”
    “And I won’t.”
    I snatch my hand out of his. “Christian . . .” Words fail me.
    “Are you mad at me?”
    “Yes. Of course I’m mad at you.” I seethe. “I mean, what kind of responsible business executive makes decisions based on who they are currently fucking?” I blanch and glance nervously once more at Taylor who is stoically ignoring us.  
    Shit. What a time to have a brain-to-mouth filter malfunction. Anastasia ! My subconscious glares at me.
    Christian opens his mouth then closes it again and scowls at me. I glare at him. The atmosphere in the car plunges from warm with sweet reunion to frigid with unspoken words and potential recriminations as we glower at each other.
    Fortunately, our uncomfortable car journey doesn’t last long, and Taylor pulls up outside my apartment.
    I scramble out of the car quickly, not waiting for anyone to open the door.  
    I hear Christian mutter to Taylor, “I think you’d better wait here.”
    I sense him standing close behind me as I struggle to find the front door keys in my purse.
    “Anastasia,” he says calmly as if I’m some cornered wild animal.
    I sigh and turn to face him. I am so mad at him, my anger is palpable—a dark entity threatening to choke me.
    “First, I haven’t fucked you for a while—a long while, it feels—and second, I wanted to get into publishing. Of the four companies in Seattle, SIP is the most profitable, but it’s on the cusp and it’s going to stagnate—it needs to branch out.”
    I stare frigidly at him. His eyes are so intense, threatening even, but sexy as hell. I could get lost in their steely depths.
    “So you’re my boss now,” I snap.
    “Technically, I’m your boss’s boss’s boss.”
    “And, technically, it’s gross moral turpitude—the fact that I am fucking my boss’s boss’s boss.”
    “At the moment, you’re arguing with him.” Christian scowls.
    “That’s because he’s such an arse,” I hiss.
    Christian steps back in stunned surprise. Oh shit . Have I gone too far?
    “An arse?” he murmurs as his expression changes to one of amusement.
    Goddamn it! I am mad at you, do not make me laugh!
    “Yes.” I struggle to maintain my look of moral outrage.
    “An arse?” Christian says again. This time his lips twitch with