Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

“Then you won’t mind if I give my son a birthday hug.” She beams at both of us. He hugs her tightly and thaws immediately.
    “Happy birthday, darling,” she says softly, closing her eyes in his embrace. “I’m so glad you’re still with us.”
    “Mom, I’m fine.” Christian smiles down at her. She pulls back, looks at him closely, and grins.
    “I’m so happy for you,” she says and caresses his face.
    He grins at her—his thousand megawatt smile.
    She knows! When did he tell her?
    “Well, kids, if you’ve all finished your tête-à-tête , there’s a throng of people here to check that you really are in one piece, Christian, and to wish you a happy birthday.”
    “I’ll be right there.”
    Grace glances anxiously at Kate and me and seems reassured by our smiles. She winks at me as she holds the door open for us. Christian holds out his hand to me and I take it.
    “Christian, I really do apologize,” Kate says humbly. Humble Kate is something to behold. Christian nods at her, and we follow her out.
    In the hallway, I gaze anxiously up at Christian. “Does your mother know about us?”
    “Yes.”
    “Oh.” And to think our evening could have been derailed by the tenacious Miss Kavanagh. I shudder at the thought—the ramifications of Christian’s lifestyle revealed to all. Holy cow .
    “Well, that was an interesting start to the evening.” I smile sweetly at him. He glances down at me—and it’s back, his amused look. Thank heavens.
    “As ever, Miss Steele, you have a gift for understatement.” He raises my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles as we walk into the living room to a sudden, spontaneous, and deafening round of applause.
    Crap. How many people are here?
    I scan the room quickly: all the Greys, Ethan with Mia, Dr. Flynn and his wife, I assume. There’s Mac from the boat, a tall, handsome African American—I remember seeing him in Christian’s office the first time I met Christian—Mia’s bitchy friend Lily, two women I don’t recognize at all, and . . . Oh no . My heart sinks. That woman . . . Mrs. Robinson.
    Gretchen materializes with a tray of champagne. She’s in a low-cut black dress, no pigtails but an updo, flushing and fluttering her eyelashes at Christian. The applause dies down, and Christian squeezes my hand as all eyes turn to him expectantly.
    “Thank you, everyone. Looks like I’ll need one of these.” He grabs two drinks off Gretchen’s tray and gives her a brief smile. I think Gretchen’s going to expire or swoon. He hands a glass to me.
    Christian raises his glass to the rest of the room, and immediately everyone surges forward. Leading the charge is the evil woman in black. Does she ever wear any other color?
    “Christian, I was so worried.” Elena gives him a brief hug and kisses both his cheeks. He doesn’t let me go despite the fact I try to free my hand.
    “I’m good, Elena,” Christian mutters coolly.
    “Why didn’t you call me?” Her plea is desperate, her eyes searching his.
    “I’ve been busy.”
    “Didn’t you get my messages?”
    Christian shifts uncomfortably and pulls me closer, putting his arm around me. His face remains impassive as he regards Elena. She can no longer ignore me, so she nods politely in my direction.
    “Ana,” she purrs. “You look lovely, dear.”
    “Elena,” I purr back. “Thank you.”
    I catch Grace’s eye. She frowns, watching the three of us.
    “Elena, I need to make an announcement,” Christian says, eyeing her dispassionately.
    Her clear blue eyes cloud. “Of course.” She fakes a smile and steps back.
    “Everyone,” Christian calls. He waits for a moment until the buzz in the room dies down and all eyes are once more on him.
    “Thank you for coming today. I have to say I was expecting a quiet family dinner, so this is a pleasant surprise.” He stares pointedly at Mia, who grins and gives him a little wave. Christian shakes his head in exasperation and continues.
    “Ros and I”—he acknowledges the red-haired woman standing nearby with a small bubbly blonde—“we had a close call yesterday.”
    Oh, that’s the Ros that works with him. She grins and raises her glass to him. He nods back at her.
    “So I’m especially glad to be here today to share with all of you my very good news. This beautiful woman”—he glances down at me—“Miss Anastasia Rose Steele, has consented to be my wife, and I’d like you to be the first to know.”
    There are general gasps of