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“No major renovations?” he murmurs.
“No.” I shake my head to emphasize my point.
“You like it as it is?”
“Mostly, yes. I always knew it just needed some TLC.”
Christian’s eyes glow warmly.
Gia glances at the pair of us, and her cheeks pink. “Okay,” she says. “I think I get where you’re coming from, Ana. How about if we retain the glass wall, but
have it open out onto a larger deck that’s in keeping with the Mediterranean style. We have the stone terrace there already. We can put in pillars in matching stone,
widely spaced so you’ll still have the view. Add a glass roof, or tile it as per the rest of the house. It’ll also make a sheltered al fresco dining and seated area.”
Got to give the woman her due . . . she’s good.
“Or instead of the deck, we could incorporate a wood color of your choice into the glass doors—that might help to keep the Mediterranean spirit,” she continues.
“Or instead of the deck, we could incorporate a wood color of your choice into the glass doors—that might help to keep the Mediterranean spirit,” she continues.
“Like the bright blue shutters in the South of France,” I murmur to Christian, who is watching me intently. He takes a sip of wine and shrugs, very noncommittal.
Hmm. He doesn’t like that idea but he doesn’t overrule me, shoot me down, or make me feel stupid. God, this man is a mass of contradictions. His words from
yesterday come to mind: “I want this house to be the way you want. Whatever you want. It’s yours.” He wants me to be happy—happy in everything I do. Deep
down I think I know this. It’s just—I stop myself. Don’t think about our argument now. My subconscious glares at me.
Gia is looking at Christian, waiting for him to make the decision. I watch as her pupils dilate and her glossed lips part. Her tongue darts quickly over her top lip
before she takes a sip of her wine. When I turn to Christian, he’s still looking at me—not at her at all. Yes! My i
words with Ms. Matteo.
“Ana, what do you want to do?” Christian murmurs, very clearly deferring to me.
“I like the deck idea.”
“Me, too.”
I turn back to Gia. Hey, lady, look at me, not him. I’m the one making the decisions on this. “I think I’d like to see revised drawings showing the bigger deck and
pillars that are in keeping with the house.”
Reluctantly, Gia drags her greedy eyes away from my husband and smiles down at me. Does she think I’m not going to notice?
“Sure,” she acquiesces pleasantly. “Any other issues?”
Other than you eye-fucking my husband? “Christian wants to remodel the master suite,” I murmur.
There’s a discreet cough from the entrance to the great room. We three turn as one to find Taylor standing there.
“Taylor?” Christian asks.
“I need to confer with you on an urgent matter, Mr. Grey.”
Christian clasps my shoulders from behind and addresses Gia.
“Mrs. Grey is in charge of this project. She has absolute carte blanche. Whatever she wants, it’s hers. I completely trust her instincts. She’s very shrewd.” His
voice alters subtly. In it I hear pride and a veiled warning—a warning to Gia?
He trusts my instincts? Oh, this man’s exasperating. My instincts let him run roughshod over my feelings this afternoon. I shake my head in frustration but I’m
grateful that he’s telling Miss Provocative-And-Unfortunately-Good-At-Her-Job just who’s in charge. I caress his hand as it rests on my shoulder.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Christian squeezes my shoulders before following Taylor. I wonder idly what’s going on.
“So . . . the master suite?” Gia asks nervously.
I gaze up at her, pausing for a moment to ensure that Christian and Taylor are out of earshot. Then calling on all my i
seriously piqued for the last five hours, I let her have it.
“You’re right to be nervous, Gia, because right now your work on this project hangs in the balance. But I’m sure we’ll be fine as long as you keep your hands off
my husband.”
She gasps.
“Otherwise, you’re fired. Understand?” I enunciate each word clearly.
She blinks rapidly, utterly stu
widening brown eyes.
Don’t back down. Don’t back down! I’ve learned this maddening impassive expression from Christian who does impassive like no one else. I know that
renovating the Greys’ main residence is a prestigious project for Gia’s architectural firm—a resplendent feather in her cap. She can’t lose this commission. And right
now I don’t give a hoot that she’s Elliot’s friend.
“Ana—Mrs. Grey . . . I-I’m so sorry. I never—” She flushes, unsure what else she can say.
“Let me be clear. My husband is not interested in you.”
“Of course,” she murmurs, the blood draining from her face.
“As I said, I just wanted to be clear.”
“Mrs. Grey, I sincerely apologize if you think . . . I have—” She stops, still floundering for something to say.
“Good. As long as we understand each other, we’ll be fine. Now, I’ll let you know what we have in mind for the master suite, then I’d like a run down on all the
materials you intend to use. As you know, Christian and I are determined that this house should be ecologically sustainable, and I’d like to reassure him as to where
all the materials are coming from and what they are.”
“Of c-course,” she stutters, wide-eyed and frankly a little intimidated by me. This is a first. My i
crowd.
Gia pats her hair into place, and I realize this is a nervous gesture.
“The master suite?” she prompts anxiously, her voice a breathless whisper. Now that I have the upper hand, I feel myself relax for the first time since my meeting
with Christian this afternoon. I can do this. My i
Christian joins us just as we’re finishing up.
“All done?” he asks. He puts his arm around my waist and turns to Gia.
“Yes, Mr. Grey,” Gia smiles brightly, though her smile looks brittle. “I’ll have the revised plans to you in a couple of days.”
“Excellent. You’re happy?” he asks me directly, his eyes warm and probing. I nod and blush for some reason that I don’t understand.
“I’d better be going,” Gia says again too brightly. She offers her hand to me first this time, then to Christian.
“Until next time, Gia,” I murmur.
“Yes, Mrs. Grey. Mr. Grey.”
Taylor appears at the entrance of the great room.
“Taylor will see you out.” My voice is loud enough for him to hear. Patting her hair once more, she turns on her high heels and leaves the great room, followed
closely by Taylor.
“She was noticeably cooler,” Christian says, looking quizzically at me.
“Was she? I didn’t notice.” I shrug, trying to remain neutral. “What did Taylor want?” I ask partly because I’m curious and partly because I want to change the
subject.
Frowning, Christian releases me and begins to roll up the plans on the table. “It was about Hyde.”
“What about Hyde?” I whisper.
“It’s nothing to worry about, Ana.” Abandoning the plans, Christian draws me into his arms. “It turns out he hasn’t been in his apartment for weeks, that’s all.”
He kisses my hair, then releases me and finishes his task.
“So what did you decide on?” he asks, and I know it’s because he doesn’t want me to pursue the Hyde line of inquiry.
“So what did you decide on?” he asks, and I know it’s because he doesn’t want me to pursue the Hyde line of inquiry.
“Only what you and I discussed. I think she likes you,” I say quietly.
He snorts. “Did you say something to her?” he asks and I flush. How does he know? At a loss what to say, I stare down at my fingers.