“Good morning, Miss Steele. It’s always a treat to wake up to you.”
She strokes my cheek. “And you, Mr. Grey.” Her tone is soft. “Do we have to get up? I like being here in your room.”
“No.” I glance at my watch on the nightstand. It’s 9:15. “My parents will be at Mass.” I shift to her side.
“I didn’t know they were churchgoers.”
I grimace. “Yes. They are. Catholic.”
“Are you?”
“No, Anastasia.”
God and I went our separate ways a long time ago.
“Are you?” I ask, recalling that Welch could find no religious affiliations during her background check.
She shakes her head. “No. Neither of my parents practice a faith. But I would like to go to church today. I need to thank…someone for bringing you back alive from the helicopter accident.”
I sigh, visualizing a bolt of lightning burning me to a cinder if I step onto the hallowed grounds of a church, but for her, I’ll go.
“Okay. I’ll see what we can do.” I kiss her quickly. “Come, shower with me.”
bedroom door—Taylor has delivered clean clothes. I scoop up the bag and shut the door. Ana is wrapped in a towel, beads of water glistening on her shoulders. Her attention is focused on my bulletin board, paused at the photograph of the crack whore. She turns her head toward me, a question on her beautiful face…a question I don’t want to
the photo.
sunshine, drinking me in, begging me to say something. But I can’t. This is not somewhere I want to go. For a moment, I’m reminded of the gut punch I felt when Carrick handed me the photograph
Don’t go there,
us,” I whisper as I sling the duffel onto
walks toward the bed and unzips the
fill. My parents have returned from Mass and my mother has cooked her traditional brunch: a delicious, coronary-inducing plate of bacon, sausage, hash browns, eggs, and English muffins. Grace is a little quiet, and I suspect that
the morning I have
him for
of all things—and arguing over who should have the last sausage. I half listen with amusement while
shrieks and reclaims her place at the table, holding her laptop. “Look at this. There’s a gossipy item on the Seattle Nooz
“Already?” Mom says, surprised.
assholes have anything
us here at the Nooz that Seattle’s most eligible bachelor, the Christian Grey, has finally been snapped
glance at Ana, who pales as she stares, doe-eyed,
is the lucky, lucky lady?’” Mia continues. “‘The Nooz is on the hunt. Bet she’s reading one helluva prenup.’”
glare at her. Shut the
and presses her lips together. Ignoring her, and all the anxious looks exchanged at the table, I turn my attention to
trying
“Christian,” Dad says.
mouth to say something. “No prenup!” I snap with such vehemence that he closes