"Mrs. Grey," Mrs. Bentley nods a respectful greeting. I hold out my hand and we shake. It's no surprise to me that she's much more formal with Christian than the rest of the family.
"I hope you've had a pleasant flight. The weather is supposed to be fine all weekend, though I'm not sure." She eyes the graying clouds behind us. "Lunch is ready whenever you want." She smiles again, her dark eyes twinkling, and I warm to her immediately.
"Here." Christian grabs me and lifts me off my feet.
"What are you doing?" I squeal.
"Carrying you over yet another threshold, Mrs. Grey."
I grin at him as he carries me into the wide hallway, and after a brief kiss, he sets me gently down onto the hardwood floor. The interior decor is stark and reminds me of the great room at Escala - all white walls, dark wood, and contemporary abstract art. The hallway opens up into a large sitting area where three off-white leather couches surround a stone fireplace that dominates the room. The only color is from the soft cushions scattered on the couches. Mia grabs Ethan's hand and drags him farther into the house. Christian narrows his eyes at their departing figures, his mouth thinning. He shakes his head then turns to me.
Kate whistles loudly. "Nice place."
I glance around to see Elliot helping Taylor with our luggage. I wonder again if she knows that Gia had a hand in this place.
"Tour?" Christian asks me, and whatever was going through his mind about Mia and Ethan has gone. He's radiating excitement - or is it anxiety? It's difficult to tell.
"Sure." Once again I'm overwhelmed by the wealth. How much did this place cost . . . ? And I have contributed nothing to it. Briefly I'm transported back to the first time Christian took me to Escala . . . I was overwhelmed then. You got used to it, my subconscious hisses at me. Christian frowns but takes my hand, leading me through the various rooms. The state-of-the-art kitchen is all pale marble countertops and black cupboards. There's an impressive wine cellar, and an expansive den downstairs, complete with large plasma screen, soft couches . . . and a billiard table. I gape at it, and blush when Christian catches me.
"Fancy a game?" he asks, a wicked gleam in his eye. I shake my head, and his brow furrows once more. Taking my hand again, he leads me up to the first floor. There are four bedrooms upstairs, each with an en suite bathroom.
The master suite is something else - the bed is huge, bigger than the bed at home, and faces an enormous picture window looking out over Aspen and toward the verdant mountains.
"That's Ajax Mountain . . . or Aspen Mountain, if you like,"
Christian says, eyeing me warily. He's standing in the doorway, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops on his black jeans. I nod.
"You're very quiet," he murmurs.
"It's lovely, Christian." And suddenly I'm aching to be back at Escala.
In five long strides he's standing in front of me, reaching up and tugging at my chin, releasing my lower lip from the grip of my teeth.
"What is it?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.
"You're very rich."
"Yes."
"Sometimes, it just takes me by surprise, how wealthy you are."
"We are."
"We are," I mutter automatically.
"Don't stress about this, Ana, please. It's just a house."
"And what did Gia do here, exactly?"
"Gia?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
"Yes. She remodeled this place?"
"She did. She put the den in downstairs." He rakes his hand through his hair and frowns at me. "Why are we talking about Gia?"
"Did you know she had a fling with Elliot?"
Christian gazes at me for a moment, gray eyes unreadable. "Elliot's f**ked most of Seattle, Ana."
I gasp.
"Mainly women, I understand," Christian jokes. I think he's amused by my expression.
"No!"
Christian nods. "It's none of my business." He holds his palms up.
"I don't think Kate knows."
"I'm not sure he broadcasts that information. Kate seems to be holding her own."
I'm shocked. Sweet, unassuming, blond, blue-eyed Elliot? I stare in disbelief.
Christian tilts his head to one side, scrutinizing me. "This can't just be about Gia or Elliot's promiscuity."
"I know. I'm sorry. After all that's happened this week, it's just . . ."
I shrug, feeling tearful all of a sudden. Christian seems to sag with relief. Pulling me into his arms, he holds me tightly, his nose in my hair.
"I know. I'm sorry, too. Let's relax and enjoy ourselves, okay? You can stay here and read, watch god-awful TV, shop, come hiking -
fishing even. Whatever you want to do. And forget what I said about Elliot. That was indiscreet of me."
"Goes some way to explain why he's always teasing you," I murmur, nuzzling his chest.
"He really has no idea about my past. I told you, my family assumed I was g*y. Celibate, but g*y."
I giggle and begin to relax in his arms. "I thought you were celibate. How wrong I was." I wrap my arms around him, marveling at the ridiculousness of Christian being g*y.
"Mrs. Grey, are you smirking at me?"
"Maybe a little," I acquiesce. "You know, what I don't understand is why you have this place?"
"What do you mean?" He kisses my hair.
"You have the boat, which I get, you have the place in New York for business - but why here? It's not like you shared it with anyone."
Christian stills, and is silent for several beats. "I was waiting for you," he says softly, his eyes dark gray and luminous.