Fifty Shades of Grey (Fifty Shades #1)(84)
Author: E.L. James

Burns from whatI blanch at the realization, shock and revulsion coursing through me.

From cigarettesMrs. Robinson, his birth mother, whoWho did this to himMaybe there’s a reasonable explanation, and I’m over-reacting – wild hope blossoms in my chest

– hope that I am wrong.

"What is it?" Christian’s face is wide-eyed with alarm.

"Your scars," I whisper. "They’re not from chicken pox."

I watch as in a split second he closes down, his stance changing from relaxed, calm, and at ease, to defensive – angry, even. He frowns, his face darkening, and his mouth presses into a thin, hard line.

"No, they’re not," he snaps, but he does not elaborate further. He stands, holds his hand out for me, and hauls me to my feet.

"Don’t look at me like that." His voice is colder and scolding as he lets go of my hand.

I flush, chastened, and stare down at my fingers, and I know, I know that someone stubbed cigarettes out on Christian. I feel sick.

"Did she do that?" I whisper before I can stop myself.

He says nothing, so I’m forced to look at him. He’s glaring at me.

"SheMrs. RobinsonShe’s not an animal, Anastasia. Of course she didn’t. I don’t understand why you feel you have to demonize her."

He’s standing there, naked, gloriously naked, with my blood on him… and we’re finally having this conversation. And I’m naked too – neither of us has anywhere to hide, except perhaps the bath. I take a deep breath, move past him, and step down into the water.

It is deliciously warm, soothing, and deep. I melt into the fragrant foam and stare up at him, hiding among the bubbles.

"I just wonder what you would be like if you hadn’t met her. If she hadn’t introduced you to your… um, lifestyle."

He sighs and steps down into the bath opposite me, his jaw clenched with tension, his eyes frosty. As he gracefully submerges his body beneath the water, he’s careful not to touch me. Jeez – have I made him that mad?

He stares impassively at me, his face unreadable, saying nothing. Again the silence stretches between us, but I hold my counsel. It’s your turn Grey – I am not caving this time.

My subconscious is nervous, anxiously biting her nails – this could go either way. Christian and I stare at each other, but I am not backing down. Eventually, after what seems like a millennium, he shakes his head, and he smirks.

"I would probably have gone the way of my birth mother, had it not been for Mrs.

Robinson."

Oh! I blink at him. Crack addict or whorePossibly both?

"She loved me in a way I found… acceptable," he adds with a shrug.

What the hell does that mean?

"Acceptable?" I whisper.

"Yes." He stares intently at me. "She distracted me from the destructive path I found myself following. It’s very hard to grow up in a perfect family when you’re not perfect."

Oh no. My mouth dries as I digest his words. He gazes as me, his expression unfathomable. He’s not going to tell me any more. How frustrating. Inside, I’m reeling – he sounds so full of self-loathing. And Mrs. Robinson loved him. Holy shit… does she still?

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.

"Does she still love you?"

"I don’t think so, not like that." He frowns as if he hasn’t thought about the idea. "I keep telling you it was a long time ago. It’s in the past. I couldn’t change it even if I wanted to, which I don’t. She saved me from myself." He’s exasperated and runs a wet hand through his hair. "I’ve never discussed this with anyone." He pauses, "Except Dr.

Flynn, of course. And the only reason I’m talking about this now, to you, is because I want you to trust me."

"I do trust you, but I do want to know you better, and whenever I try to talk to you, you distract me. There’s so much I want to know."

"Oh for pity’s sake, Anastasia. What do you want to knowWhat do I have to do?" His eyes blaze, and though he doesn’t raise his voice, I know he’s trying to rein in his temper.

I glance quickly down at my hands, clear beneath the water as the bubbles have started to disperse.

"I’m just trying to understand, you’re such an enigma. Unlike anyone I’ve met before.

I’m glad you’re telling me what I want to know."

Jeez – maybe it’s the Cosmopolitans making me brave, but suddenly I cannot bear the distance between us. I move through the water to his side and lean against him so we’re touching, skin to skin. He tenses and eyes me warily, as if I might bite. Well, that’s a turnaround. My inner goddess gazes at him in quiet, surprised speculation.

"Please don’t be angry with me," I whisper.

"I am not angry with you, Anastasia. I’m just not used to this kind of talking – this probing. I only have this with Dr. Flynn and with – " He stops and frowns.

"With her. Mrs. Robinson. You talk to her?" I prompt, trying to rein in my own temper.

"Yes, I do."

"What about?"

He shifts in the bath so that he’s facing me, causing the water to lap over the sides onto the floor. He places his arm around my shoulders, resting on the ledge of the bath.

"Persistent aren’t you?" he murmurs, a trace of irritation in his voice. "Life, the universe – business. Anastasia, Mrs. R and I go way back. We can discuss anything."

"Me?" I whisper.

"Yes." Gray eyes watch me carefully.

I bite my bottom lip, trying to curb the sudden rush of anger that surfaces.

"Why do you talk about me?" I endeavor not to sound whiney and petulant, but I don’t succeed. I know I should stop. I am pushing him too hard. My subconscious has her Edvard Munch face on again.

"I’ve never met anyone like you, Anastasia."

"What does that meanAnyone who just didn’t automatically sign your paperwork, no questions asked?"

He shakes his head.

"I need advice."

"And you take advice from Mrs. Paedo?" I snap. The hold on my temper is more tentative than I thought.

"Anastasia – enough," he snaps back sternly, his eyes narrowing.

I’m skating on thin ice, and I’m heading into danger. "Or I’ll put you across my knee.

I have no sexual or romantic interest in her whatsoever. She’s a dear, valued friend and a business partner. That’s all. We have a past, a shared history, which was monumentally beneficial for me, though it f**ked up her marriage – but that side of our relationship is over."

Jeez – another part I just can’t understand. She was married as well. How did they get away with it for so long?

"And your parents never found out?"

"No," he growls. "I’ve told you this."

And I know that’s it. I cannot ask him any further questions about her because he will lose it with me.

"Are you done?" he snaps.

"For now."

He takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes in front of me, like a great weight is lifted from his shoulders or something.

"Right – my turn," he mutters, and his glare turns steely, speculative. "You haven’t responded to my email."

I flush. Oh, I hate the spotlight on me, and it seems he’s going to get angry every time we have a discussion. I shake my head. Perhaps that’s how he feels about my questions, he’s not used to being challenged. The thought is revelatory, distracting, and unnerving.

"I was going to respond. But now you’re here."

"You’d rather I wasn’t?" he breathes, his expression impassive again.

"No, I’m pleased," I murmur.

"Good." He gives me a genuine, relieved smile. "I’m pleased I’m here too – in spite of your interrogation. So, while it’s acceptable to grill me, you think you can claim some kind of diplomatic immunity just because I’ve flown all this way to see youI’m not buying it, Miss Steele. I want to know how you feel."

Oh no…

"I told you. I am pleased you’re here. Thank you for coming all this way," I say feebly.

"It’s my pleasure, Miss Steele." His eyes shine as he leans down and kisses me gently.

I feel myself responding automatically. The water is still warm, the bathroom still steamy.

He stops and pulls back, gazing down at me.

"No. I think I want some answers first before we do any more."

More There’s that word again. And he wants answers… answers to whatI don’t have a secret past – I don’t have a harrowing childhood. What could he possibly want to know about me that he doesn’t already know?

I sigh, resigned.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, how you feel about our would-be arrangement, for starters."