fifty-shades-of-grey

course they do. I flush to think of the Buzz-Cut man in some lingerie store buying this forme. I wonder what else is in his job description.I dress quickly. The rest of the clothing is a perfect fit. I brusquely towel-dry my hairand try desperately to bring it under control. But, as usual, it refuses to cooperate, and myonly option is to restrain it with a hair tie. I shall search in my purse, when I find it. I takea deep breath. Time to face Mr. Confusing.I’m relieved to find the bedroom empty. I hunt quickly for my purse – but it’s not inhere. Taking another deep breath, I enter the living area of the suite. It’s huge. There’s anopulent, plush seating area, all overstuffed couches and soft cushions, an elaborate coffeetable with a stack of large glossy books, a study area with a top-of-the-range Mac, an enormousplasma screen TV on the wall, and Christian is sitting at a dining table on the otherside of the room reading a newspaper. It’s the size of a tennis court or something, not thatI play tennis, though I have watched Kate a few times. Kate!“Crap, Kate,” I croak. Christian peers up at me.“She knows you’re here and still alive. I texted Elliot,” he says with just a trace ofhumor.Oh no. I remember her fervent dancing of the night before. All her patented movesused with maximum effect to seduce Christian’s brother no less! What’s she going to thinkabout me being here? I’ve never stayed out before. She’s still with Elliot. She’s only donethis twice before, and both times I’ve had to endure the hideous pink PJs for a week fromthe fallout. She’s going to think I’ve had a one-night stand too.Christian stares at me imperiously. He’s wearing a white linen shirt, collar and cuffsundone.“Sit,” he commands, pointing to a place at the table. I make my way across the roomand sit down opposite him as I’ve been directed. The table is laden with food.“I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a selection from the breakfast menu.” Hegives me a crooked, apologetic smile.“That’s very profligate of you,” I murmur, bewildered by the choice, though I am hungry.“Yes, it is.” He sounds guilty.I opt for pancakes, maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Christian tries to hide asmile as he returns to his egg white omelet. The food is delicious.“Tea?” he asks.“Yes, please.”He passes me a small teapot of hot water and on the saucer is a Twining’s EnglishBreakfast teabag. Jeez, he remembers how I like my tea.“Your hair’s very damp,” he scolds.“I couldn’t find the hairdryer,” I mutter, embarrassed. Not that I looked.Christian’s mouth presses into a hard line, but he doesn’t say anything.“Thank you for organizing the clothes.”“It’s a pleasure, Anastasia. That color suits you.”I blush and stare down at my fingers.“You know, you really should learn to take a compliment.” His tone is castigating.“I should give you some money for these clothes.”