Chapter 98


    "You''re wee, and yes, I can''t wait to meet them," I answer breathlessly.


    "Do you have everything you need?"


    "Oh, yes," I respond sweetly.


    "Are you sure?"


    I nod as nonchntly as I can manage under his intense, amused scrutiny. His face splits into a huge


    grin, and he shakes his head.


    "Okay. If that''s the way you want to y it, Miss Steele."


    He grabs my hand, collects his jacket which is hanging on one of the barstools, and leads me through


    the foyer to the elevator. Oh, the many faces of Christian Grey. Will I ever be able to understand this


    mercurial man?


    I peek up at him in the elevator. He''s enjoying a private joke, a trace of a smile flirting with his beautiful


    mouth. I fear that it may be at my expense. What was I thinking I''m going to see his parents, and I''m


    not wearing any underwear. My subconscious gives me an unhelpful I told you so expression. In the


    rtive safety of his apartment, it seemed like a fun, teasing idea. Now, I''m almost outside with No


    Panties! He peers down at me, and it''s there, the charge building between us. The amused look


    disappears from his face and his expression clouds, his eyes dark... oh my.


    The elevator doors open on the ground floor. Christian shakes his head slightly as if to clear his


    thoughts and gestures for me to exit before him in a most gentlemanly manner.


    Who''s he kidding He''s no gentleman. He has my panties.


    Taylor draws up in therge Audi. Christian opens the rear door for me, and I climb inside as elegantly


    as I can, considering my state of wanton undress. I''m grateful that Kate''s plum dress is so clingy and


    hangs to the top of my knees.


    We speed up the I-5, both of us quiet, no doubt inhibited by Taylor''s steady presence in the front.


    Christian''s mood is almost tangible and seems to shift, the humor dissipating slowly as we head north.


    He''s brooding, staring out of the window, and I can feel him slipping away from me. What is he thinkingI


    can''t ask him. What can I say in front of Taylor?


    "Where did you learn to dance?" I ask tentatively. He turns to gaze at me, his eyes unreadable beneath


    the intermittent light of the passing streetmps.


    "Do you really want to know?" he replies softly.


    My heart sinks, and now I don''t because I can guess.


    "Yes," I murmur, reluctantly.


    "Mrs. Robinson was fond of dancing."


    Oh, my worst suspicions confirmed. She has taught him well, and the thought depresses me - there''s


    nothing I can teach him. I have no special skills.


    "She must have been a good teacher."


    "She was," he says softly.


    My scalp prickles. Did she have the best of himBefore he became so closedOr did she bring him out of


    himselfHe has such a fun, yful side. I smile involuntarily as I recall being in his arms as he spun me


    around his living room, so unexpected, and he has my panties, somewhere.


    And then there''s the Red Room of Pain. I rub my wrists reflexively - thin strips of stic will do that to a


    girl. She taught him all that too or ruined him, depending on one''s point of view. Or perhaps he would


    have found his way there anyway in spite of Mrs. R.


    I realize, in that moment, that I hate her. I hope that I never meet her because I will not be responsible


    for my actions if I do. I can''t remember ever feeling this passionately about anyone, especially


    Belongs to (N)?vel/Drama.Org.


    someone I''ve never met. Gazing unseeing out of the window, I nurse my irrational anger and jealousy.


    My mind drifts back to the afternoon. Given what I understand of his preferences, I think he''s been


    easy on me. Would I do it again I can''t even pretend to put up an argument against that. Of course I


    would, if he asked me - as long as he didn''t hurt me and if it''s the only way to be with him.


    That''s the bottom line. I want to be with him. My inner goddess sighs with relief. I reach the conclusion


    that she rarely uses her brain to think but another vital part of her anatomy, and at the moment, it''s a


    rather exposed part.


    "Don''t," he murmurs.


    I frown and turn to look at him.


    "Don''t what?" I haven''t touched him.


    "Over-think things, Anastasia." Reaching out, he grasps my hand, draws it up to his lips, and kisses my


    knuckles gently. "I had a wonderful afternoon. Thank you."


    And he''s back with me again. I blink up at him and smile shyly. He''s so confusing. I ask a question


    that''s been bugging me.


    "Why did you use a cable tie?"


    He grins at me.


    "It''s quick, it''s easy, and it''s something different for you to feel and experience. I know they''re quite


    brutal, and I do like that in a restraining device." He smiles at me mildly.


    "Very effective at keeping you in your ce."


    I flush and nce nervously at Taylor, who remains impassive, eyes on road. What am I supposed to


    say to that Christian shrugs innocently.


    "All part of my world, Anastasia." He squeezes my hand and lets go, staring out of the window again.


    His world indeed, and I want to belong in it, but on his termsI just don''t know. He hasn''t mentioned that


    damned contract. My inner musings do nothing to cheer me. I stare out of the window and the


    night reflects my introspective mood, closing in, suffocating.


    I nce briefly at Christian, and he''s staring at me.


    "Penny for your thoughts?" he asks.


    I sigh and frown.


    "That bad, huh?"


    "I wish I knew what you were thinking."


    He smirks at me.


    "Ditto, baby," he says softly as Taylor speeds into the night toward Bellevue.


    It is just before eight when the Audi draws into the driveway of a colonial-style mansion.


    It''s breathtaking, even down to the roses around the door. Picture-book perfect.


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