Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

subconscious tuts at me, arms crossed, glaring over her half-moon glasses. Why are you torturing yourself? You’ve said yes. You’ve made your bed. I purse my lips at her. Yes I have, gladly so. I want to lie in that bed with Christian for the rest of my life. My inner goddess, sitting in the lotus position, smiles serenely. Yes. I’ve made the right decision.
    I must find him—Christian will be worried. I have no idea how long I’ve been in his room; he’ll think that I’ve fled. I roll my eyes as I contemplate his overreaction. I hope that he and Grace have finished. I shudder to think what else she might have said to him.
    I meet Christian as he climbs the stairs to the second floor, looking for me. His face is strained and weary—not the carefree Fifty I arrived with. As I stand on the landing, he stops on the top stair so that we are eye to eye.
    “Hi,” he says cautiously.
    “Hi,” I answer warily.
    “I was worried—”
    “I know,” I interrupt him. “I’m sorry—I couldn’t face the festivities. I just had to get away, you know. To think.” Reaching up, I caress his face. He closes his eyes and leans his face into my hand.
    “And you thought you’d do that in my room?”
    “Yes.”
    He reaches for my hand and pulls me into an embrace, and I go willingly into his arms, my favorite place in the whole world. He smells of fresh laundry, body wash, and Christian—the most calming and arousing scent on the planet. He inhales with his nose in my hair.
    “I’m sorry you had to endure all that.”
    “It’s not your fault, Christian. Why was she here?” He gazes down at me, and his mouth curls apologetically.
    “She’s a family friend.”
    I try not to react. “Not any more. How’s your mom?”
    “Mom is pretty fucking mad at me right now. I’m really glad you’re here, and that we’re in the middle of a party. Otherwise I might be breathing my last.”
    “That bad, huh?”
    He nods, his eyes serious, and I sense his bewilderment at her reaction.
    “Can you blame her?” My voice is quiet, cajoling.
    He hugs me tightly and he seems uncertain, processing his thoughts.
    Finally he answers. “No.”
    Whoa! Breakthrough. “Can we sit?” I ask.
    “Sure. Here?”
    I nod and we both sit at the top of the stairs.
    “So, how do you feel?” I ask, anxiously clutching his hand and gazing at his sad, serious face.
    He sighs.
    “I feel liberated.” He shrugs, then beams—a glorious, carefree Christian smile, and the weariness and strain present moments ago have vanished.
    “Really?” I beam back. Wow, I’d crawl over broken glass for that smile.
    “Our business relationship is over. Done.”
    I frown at him. “Will you liquidate the salon business?”
    He snorts. “I’m not that vindictive, Anastasia,” he admonishes me. “No. I’ll gift them to her. I’ll talk to my lawyer Monday. I owe her that much.”
    I arch an eyebrow at him. “No more Mrs. Robinson?” His mouth twists in amusement and he shakes his head.
    “Gone.”
    I grin.
    “I’m sorry you lost a friend.”
    He shrugs then smirks. “Are you?”
    “No,” I confess, flushing.
    “Come.” He stands and offers me his hand. “Let’s join the party in our honor. I might even get drunk.”
    “Do you get drunk?” I ask as I take his hand.
    “Not since I was a wild teenager.” We walk down the stairs.
    “Have you eaten?” he asks.
    Oh crap .
    “No.”
    “Well you should. From the look and smell of Elena, that was one of my father’s lethal cocktails you threw over her.” He gazes at me, trying and failing to keep the amusement off his face.
    “Christian, I—”
    He holds up his hand.
    “No arguing, Anastasia. If you’re going to drink—and throw alcohol over my exes—you need to eat. It’s rule number one. I believe we’ve already had that discussion after our first night together.”
    Oh yes. The Heathman.
    Back in the hallway, he pauses to caress my face, his fingers skimming my jaw.
    “I lay awake for hours and watched you sleep,” he murmurs. “I might have loved you even then.”
    Oh.
    He leans down and kisses me softly, and I melt everywhere, all the tension of the last hour or so seeping languidly from my body.
    “Eat,” he whispers.
    “Okay,” I acquiesce because right now I’d probably do anything for him. Taking my hand, he leads me toward the kitchen where the party is in full swing.

    “Goodnight, John, Rhian.”
    “Congratulations again, Ana. You two will be just