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 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 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 Jose when you went to the bar with him on Friday?"
Holy fuck, Kate. I widen my eyes at her. What is she doingShe widens her eyes back at me, and I realize she's trying to make Christian jealous. How little she knows. I thought I'd got away with this.
"He was fine," I murmur.
Christian leans over.
"Palm-twitchingly mad," he whispers. "Especially now." His tone is quiet and deadly.
Oh no. I squirm.
Grace reappears carrying two plates, followed by a pretty young woman with blonde pigtails, dressed smartly in pale blue, carrying a tray of plates. Her eyes immediately find Christian in the room. She blushes and gazes at him from under her long mascara'd lashes.
What!
Somewhere in the house the phone starts ringing.
"Excuse me," Mr. Grey rises again and exits.
"Thank you, Gretchen," Grace says gently, frowning as Mr. Grey exits. "Just leave the tray on the console." Gretchen nods, and with another furtive glance at Christian, she leaves.
So the Greys have staff, and the staff are eyeing up my would-be Dominant. Can this evening get any worseI scowl at my hands in my lap.
Mr. Grey returns.
"Call for you, darling. It's the hospital," he says to Grace.
"Please start, everyone." Grace smiles as she hands me a plate and leaves.
It smells delicious - chorizo and scallops with roasted red peppers and shallots, sprinkled with flat leafed parsley. And in spite of the fact that my stomach is churning from Christian's veiled threats, the surreptitious glances from pretty little Miss Pigtails, and the debacle of my missing underwear, I am starving. I flush as I realize it's the physical effort of this afternoon that's given me such an appetite.
Moments later Grace returns, her brow furrowed. Mr. Grey cocks his head to one side... like Christian.
"Everything okay?"
"Another measles case," Grace sighs.
"Oh no."
"Yes, a child. The fourth case this month. If only people would get their kids vacci-nated." She shakes her head sadly, and then smiles. "I'm so glad our children never went through that. They never caught anything worse than chicken pox, thank goodness. Poor Elliot," she says as she sits down, smiling indulgently at