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“Hendrick’s, sir.”
“Thank you.”
He serves Ana and her mother fresh Cosmopolitans.
“How long are you in Georgia, Christian?” her mom asks.
“Until Friday, Mrs. Adams.”
“Will you have dinner with us tomorrow evening? And please, call me Carla.”
“I’d be delighted to, Carla.”
“Excellent,” she says. “If you two will excuse me, I need to visit the restroom.”
Hasn’t she just been to the restroom?
I stand as she leaves, then sit down again to face the wrath of Miss Steele. I take her hand once more. “So, you’re mad at me for having dinner with an old friend.” I kiss each knuckle.
“Yes.” She’s curt.
Is she jealous?
“Our sexual relationship was over long ago, Anastasia. I don’t want anyone but you. Haven’t you worked that out yet?”
“I think of her as a child molester, Christian.”
My scalp tingles in shock. “That’s very judgmental. It wasn’t like that.” I release her hand in frustration.
“Oh, how was it, then?” she snaps, sticking out her stubborn little chin.
Is this the drink talking?
She continues, “She took advantage of a vulnerable fifteen-year-old boy. If you had been a fifteen-year-old girl and Mrs. Robinson was a Mr. Robinson, tempting you into a BDSM lifestyle, that would have been okay? If it was Mia, say?”
Oh, now she’s being ridiculous. “Ana, it wasn’t like that.”
Her eyes flash. She’s really angry. Why? This has nothing to do with her. But I don’t want a full-blown argument here in the bar. I moderate my voice. “Okay, it didn’t feel like that to me. She was a force for good. What I needed.” Good God, I’d probably be dead by now if it wasn’t for Elena. I’m struggling to control my temper.
Her brow furrows. “I don’t understand.”
Shut her down, Grey.
“Anastasia, your mother will be back shortly. I’m not comfortable talking about this now. Later, maybe. If you don’t want me here, I have a plane on standby at Hilton Head. I can go.”
Her expression changes to panic. “No—don’t go. Please. I’m thrilled you’re here,” she adds quickly.
Thrilled? You could have fooled me.
“I’m just trying to make you understand,” she says. “I’m angry that as soon as I left, you had dinner with her. Think about how you are when I get anywhere near José. José is a good friend. I have never had a sexual relationship with him. Whereas you and her—”
“You’re jealous?”
How can I make her realize that Elena and I are friends? She has nothing to be jealous about.
Clearly, Miss Steele is possessive.
And it takes me a moment to realize that I like that.
“Yes, and angry about what she did to you,” she continues.
“Anastasia, she helped me. That’s all I’ll say about that. And as for your jealousy, put yourself in my shoes. I haven’t had to justify my actions to anyone in the last seven years. Not one person. I do as I wish, Anastasia. I like my autonomy. I didn’t go and see Mrs. Robinson to upset you. I went because every now and then we have dinner. She’s a friend and a business partner.”
Her eyes widen.
Oh. Didn’t I mention that?
Why would I mention that? It’s nothing to do with her.
“Yes, we’re business partners. The sex is over between us. It has been for years.”
“Why did your relationship end?”
“Her husband found out. Can we talk about this some other time—somewhere more private?”
“I don’t think you’ll ever convince me that she’s not some kind of pedophile.”
Fucking hell, Ana! Enough is enough!
“I don’t think of her that way. I never have. Now that’s enough!” I growl.
“Did you love her?”
What?
“How are you two getting on?” Carla is back. Ana forces a smile that makes my stomach churn.
“Fine, Mom.”
Did I love Elena?
I take a sip of my drink. I fucking worshipped her…but did I love her? What a ridiculous question. I know nothing about romantic love. That’s the hearts-and-flowers shit she wants. The nineteenth-century novels she’s read have filled her head with nonsense.
I’ve had enough.
“Well, ladies, I shall leave you to your evening. Please, put these drinks on my tab, room number 612. I’ll call you in the morning, Anastasia. Until tomorrow, Carla.”
“Oh, it’s so nice to hear someone use your full name.”
“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” I shake Carla’s hand, sincere about the compliment but not the smile on my face.
Ana is quiet, imploring me with a look that I ignore. I kiss her cheek. “Laters, baby,” I murmur in her ear, then turn and walk through the bar and back down to my room.
That girl provokes me like no one has before.
And she’s pissed at me; maybe she has PMS. She said her period was due this week.
I burst into my room, slam the door, and head straight for the balcony. It’s warm outside, and I take a deep breath, inhaling the pungent salty scent of the river. Night has fallen, and the river is inky black, like the sky…like my mood. I didn’t even get to discuss gliding tomorrow. I rest my hands on the balcony rail. The lights on the shore and the bridge improve the view…but not my temperament.
Why am I defending a relationship that began when Ana was still in fourth grade? It’s none of her business. Yes, it was unconventional. But that’s all.