Tomorrow Ana can see Dr. Greene and, depending on the weather, we could either go soaring or go sailing. I could show her The Grace.
Spending more time with Ana is appealing.
Very appealing.
Taylor approaches, shaking his head, and I know he wants us to stay put until the crowd disperses. He’s been vigilant all evening and must be exhausted. I follow his direction and ask Ana to wait with me.
“So, Aspen?” I ask, to divert her.
“Oh, I haven’t paid for my bid,” she says.
“You can send a check. I have the address.”
“You were really mad.”
“Yes, I was.”
“I blame you and your toys.”
“You were quite overcome, Miss Steele. A most satisfactory outcome, if I recall. Incidentally, where are they?”
“The silver balls? In my bag.”
“I’d like them back. They are far too potent a device to be left in your innocent hands.”
“Worried I might be quite overcome again, maybe with somebody else?” she says, with a wicked gleam in her eye.
Ana, don’t tease me about these things.
“I hope that’s not going to happen. But no, Ana, I want all your pleasure.”
Always.
“Don’t you trust me?” she asks.
“Implicitly. Now, can I have them back?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Miss Steele is playing hardball.
In the distance, the DJ has started his set.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask.
“I’m really tired, Christian. I’d like to go, if that’s okay.”
I motion to Taylor. He nods and talks into his sleeve microphone to the other security personnel, and we make our way across the lawn. Mia gallops toward us with her shoes in hand. “You’re not going, are you? The real music’s just beginning. Come on, Ana.” She grabs Ana’s free hand.
“Mia, Anastasia’s tired. We’re going home. Besides, we have a big day tomorrow.”
Ana looks at me in surprise.
Mia pouts because she’s not getting her way, but she doesn’t push it. “You must come by sometime next week. Maybe we can hit the mall?”
“Sure, Mia,” Ana replies, and I hear the fatigue in her voice. I must get her home. Mia kisses Ana good-bye, then grabs me and hugs me, hard. Her face shines as she stares up at me.
“I like seeing you this happy,” she says, and she kisses me on the cheek. “Bye. You guys have fun.” She runs off to her waiting friends, who start making their way to the dance floor.
My parents are nearby, and I’m now feeling guilty about the outburst with my mother. “We’ll say good night to my parents before we leave. Come.” We stroll toward them. Grace’s face lights up when she sees us. Reaching up, she touches my face, and I try not to scowl at her. She smiles. “Thank you for coming and bringing Anastasia. It was wonderful watching the two of you together.”
“Thanks for a great evening, Mom,” I manage. I don’t want to bring up our earlier conversation in front of Ana.
“Good night, son. Ana,” says Carrick.
“Please do come again, Anastasia, it’s been lovely having you here,” Grace enthuses. She seems sincere, and the sting of her gold-digger comment begins to fade. Perhaps she is just looking out for me. But they don’t know Ana at all. She’s the least acquisitive woman I’ve ever met.
We walk around to the front of the house. Ana runs her hands up and down her arms. “Are you warm enough?” I ask.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I really enjoyed this evening, Anastasia. Thank you.”
“Me, too…Some parts more than others.” And clearly she’s thinking about our tryst in my childhood bedroom.
“Don’t bite your lip,” I warn.
“What did you mean about a big day tomorrow?” she asks. I tell her that Dr. Greene will make a house call and that I have a surprise for her.
“Dr. Greene?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate condoms.”
“It’s my body,” she grumbles.
“It’s mine, too,” I whisper.
Ana. Please. I. Hate. Them.
Her eyes shine in the soft glow of paper lanterns that are strung up over the front yard, and I wonder if she’s going to continue this argument. She raises her hand, and I still. She tugs the corner of my bow tie, and it unravels. With gentle fingers, she undoes the top button of my shirt. Fascinated, I watch her, and stay rooted to the ground.
“You look hot like this,” she says quietly, surprising me.
I think she’s moved on from Dr. Greene. “I need to get you home. Come.”
The Q7 pulls up, and the valet gets out and gives the keys to Taylor. One of our security guys, Sawyer, hands me an envelope. It’s addressed to Ana.
“Where did this come from?” I ask him.
“One of the servers gave it to me, sir.”
Is it from an admirer? The handwriting seems familiar. Taylor ushers Ana into the car and I slide in beside her, handing her the note. “It’s addressed to you. One of the staff gave it to Sawyer. No doubt from yet another ensnared heart.”
Taylor follows the line of cars out of my parents’ driveway. Ana rips the envelope open and casts her eyes over the note inside.