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Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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“We have plans. Another time, perhaps.”
Like. Never.
I don’t trust him, and I want Ana far away from him. “Come,” I say when I take her hand.
“See you Monday,” she says as she tightens her fingers around mine. She’s addressing Hyde and an attractive
woman, who must be one of her colleagues. At least Ana wasn’t on her own with him. The woman gives Ana a
warm smile while Hyde scowls at us both. I sense his eyes boring into my back as we leave. But I don’t give a
fuck.
Outside, Taylor is waiting in the Q7. I open the rear door for Ana.
“Why did that feel like a pissing contest?” she asks as she gets in.
Perceptive as ever, Miss Steele.
“Because it was,” I confirm, and close her door.
When I’m in the car, I reach for her hand because I want to touch her, and raise it to my lips. “Hi,” I whisper. She
looks so good. The dark circles beneath her eyes have disappeared. She’s slept. She’s eaten. Her healthy glow
has returned. From her bright smile, I’d say she’s brimming with happiness, and it washes over me.
“Hi,” she says, all breathy and suggestive. Damn, I want to jump her now—though I’m sure Taylor wouldn’t
appreciate it if I did. I glance at him and his eyes dart to mine in the rearview mirror. He’s waiting for instruction.
Well, we’re doing this Ana’s way.
“What would you like to do this evening?” I ask.
“I thought you said we had plans.”
“Oh, I know what I’d like to do, Anastasia. I’m asking you what you want to do.”
Her smile widens into a salacious grin that speaks directly to my cock.
Hot damn.
“I see. So…begging it is, then. Do you want to beg at my place or yours?” I tease.
Her face shines with humor. “I think you’re being very presumptuous, Mr. Grey. But by way of a change, we could
go to my apartment.” She bites down on her plump lower lip and peers at me through her dark lashes.
Fuck.
“Taylor, Miss Steele’s, please.” And hurry!
“Sir,” Taylor acknowledges, and he heads off into the traffic.
“So how has your day been?” I ask, and brush my thumb across her knuckles. Her breath hitches.
“Good. Yours?”
“Good, thank you.” Yes. Really good. I’ve done more work today than I’ve done all week. I kiss her hand, because
I have her to thank for that. “You look lovely.”
“As do you.”
Oh, baby, it’s just a pretty face.
Speaking of pretty faces—“Your boss, Jack Hyde, is he good at his job?”
She frowns and the v I like to kiss forms above her nose. “Why? This isn’t about your pissing contest?” Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.
“That man wants into your panties, Anastasia,” I warn her, trying to sound as neutral as possible. She looks
shocked. Jesus, she’s so innocent. It was obvious to me and anyone who was paying attention at the bar.
“Well, he can want all he likes,” she says, her tone prim. “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.” Because if not, I’ll fire his sorry
ass.
She shrugs but looks down at her lap.
What? Has he tried something already?
She tells me she thinks he’s good at what he does, but she sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
“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”
Why is she frowning? Does he make her uncomfortable? Talk to me, Ana. Please. “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,” she scoffs, amused. But her smile fades and she regards me with skepticism.
“Do you, Christian?”
I do, actually. I smile at her.
“You’re buying the company?” she whispers, and she looks appalled.
“Not exactly.” This is not the reaction I was expecting, nor is the conversation going the way I thought it would.
“You’ve bought it. SIP. Already.” Her face pales.
Christ! She’s pissed.
“Possibly,” I answer, cautiously.
“You have or you haven’t?” she demands.
Showtime, Grey. Tell her.
“Have.”
“Why?” Her voice is shrill.
“Because I can, Anastasia. I need you safe.”
“But you said you wouldn’t interfere in my career!”
“And I won’t.”
She snatches her hand back. “Christian!”
Shit. “Are you mad at me?”
“Yes. Of course I’m mad at you,” she yells. “I mean, what kind of responsible business executive makes decisions
based on who he is currently fucking?” She glances nervously at Taylor, then glares at me, her expression full of
recrimination.
And I want to admonish her for her foul mouth and for overreacting. I start to tell her so, then decide that it might
not be a good idea. Her lips are set in the mulish Steele pout that I know so well…I have missed that, too.
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