“Back again,” I say to Ana, and, as usual, I’m a little reluctant to leave The Grace.
“Thank you. That was a perfect afternoon.”
“I thought so, too. Perhaps we can enroll you in sailing school, so we can go out for a few days, just the two of us.”
Or we could sail around the world, Ana, just you and me.
“I’d love that. We can christen the bedroom again and again.”
I kiss her under her ear. “Hmm, I look forward to it, Anastasia.” She squirms with pleasure. “Come, the apartment is clean. We can go back.”
“What about our things at the hotel?”
“Taylor has collected them already. Earlier today, after he did a sweep of The Grace with his team.”
“Does that poor man ever sleep?”
“He sleeps. He’s just doing his job, Anastasia, which he’s very good at. Jason is a real find.”
“Jason?”
“Jason Taylor.”
Ana’s smile is tender.
“You’re fond of Taylor,” I observe.
“I suppose I am. I think Taylor looks after you very well. That’s why I like him. He seems kind, reliable, and loyal. He has an avuncular appeal to me.”
“Avuncular?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, avuncular.”
Ana laughs. “Oh, Christian, grow up, for heaven’s sake.”
What?
She’s scolding me.
Why?
Because I’m possessive? Maybe that’s childish.
Maybe. “I’m trying,” I respond.
“That you are. Very,” she says, looking toward the ceiling.
“What memories you evoke when you roll your eyes at me, Anastasia.”
“Well, if you behave yourself, maybe we can relive some of those memories.”
“Behave myself? Really, Miss Steele—what makes you think I want to relive them?”
“Probably the way your eyes lit up like Christmas when I said that.”
“You know me so well already,” I say.
“I’d like to know you better.”
“And I you, Anastasia. Come, let’s go.” Mac has lowered the gangplank, allowing me to lead Ana onto the dock. “Thanks, Mac.” I shake his hand.
“Always a pleasure, Mr. Grey, and good-bye. Ana, great to meet you.”
“Good day, Mac, and thank you,” Ana replies, and she looks a little shy.
Together Ana and I walk up to the promenade, leaving Mac on The Grace.
“Where’s Mac from?” Ana asks.
“Ireland. Northern Ireland.”
“Is he your friend?”
“Mac? He works for me. Helped build The Grace.”
“Do you have many friends?”
What would I need friends for?
“Not really. Doing what I do. I don’t cultivate friendships. There’s only—” Shit. I stop myself. I don’t want to mention Elena. “Hungry?” I ask, feeling food might be a safer topic.
Ana nods.
“We’ll eat where I left the car. Come.”
ANA AND I ARE seated at a table in Bee’s, an Italian bistro next to SP’s. She reads the menu while I take a sip of a fine chilled Frascati. I like watching her read.
“What?” Ana asks when she looks up.
“You look lovely, Anastasia. The outdoors agrees with you.”
“I feel rather windburned, to tell the truth. But I had a lovely afternoon. A perfect afternoon. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, Anastasia. You know that.”
“You don’t seem to have many friends. Why is that?”
“I told you, I don’t really have time. I have business associates, though that’s very different from friendships, I suppose. I have my family, and that’s it.” I shrug. “Apart from Elena.”
Thankfully, she ignores my Elena comment. “No male friends your own age that you can go out with and let off steam?”
No. Just Elliot.
“You know how I like to let off steam, Anastasia.” My voice is low. “And I’ve been working, building up the business. That’s all I do, except sail and fly occasionally.” And fuck, of course.
“Not even in college?”
“Not really.”
“Just Elena, then?”
I nod. Where is she going with this?
“Must be lonely.”
Leila’s words come back to me: “But you’re lonely. I can see it.” I frown. The only time I felt lonely was when Ana left me.
It was crippling.
I never want to feel like that again.
“What would you like to eat?” I ask, hoping to move the subject on.
“I’m going for the risotto.”
“Good choice.” I beckon the waiter over.
We place our order. Risotto for Ana, penne for me.
The waiter scurries off and I notice Ana staring down at her lap, knotting her fingers. Something is on her mind. “Anastasia, what’s wrong? Tell me.”
She looks at me, continuing to fidget, and I know there’s something bothering her. “Tell me,” I demand. I hate it when she’s anxious.
She sits up, straightening her back. She means business.
Shit. Now what?
“I’m just worried that this isn’t enough for you. You know, to let off steam.”
What? Not this again. “Have I given you any indication that this isn’t enough?” I ask.
“No.”
“Then why do you think that?”
“I know what you’re like. What you, um, need.” Her voice is hesitant, and she rounds her shoulders and crosses her arms like she’s folding in on herself. I close my eyes and rub my forehead. I don’t know what to say. I thought we were having a good time.
“What do I have to do?” I whisper.
I’m trying, Ana. I’m really trying.
“No, you misunderstand,” she says, suddenly animated. “You have been amazing, and I know it’s just been a few days, but I hope I’m not forcing you to be someone you’re not.”