Fifty Shades Darker: Book Two of the Fifty Shades Trilogy by James E L

Author:James, E L [James, E L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781612130590
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2011-09-13T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

* * *

Did you talk to her today?” I ask Christian as we wait for Mrs. Robinson’s arrival.

“Yes.”

“What did you say?”

“I said that you didn’t want to see her, and that I understood your reasons why. I also told her that I didn’t appreciate her going behind my back.” His gaze is impassive, giving nothing away.

Oh, good. “What did she say?”

“She brushed it off in a way that only Elena can.” His mouth flattens to a crooked line.

“Why do you think she’s here?”

“I have no idea.” Christian shrugs.

Taylor enters the great room again. “Mrs. Lincoln,” he announces.

And here she is … Why is she so damned attractive? She’s dressed entirely in black: tight jeans, a shirt that emphasizes her perfect figure, and a halo of bright, glossy hair.

Christian pulls me close. “Elena,” he says, his tone puzzled.

She gapes at me in shock, frozen to the spot. She blinks before finding her soft voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company, Christian. It’s Monday,” she says as if this explains why she’s here.

“Girlfriend,” he says by way of explanation and tilts his head to one side and gives her a cool smile.

A slow, beaming smile directed entirely at him spreads across her face. It’s unnerving.

“Of course. Hello, Anastasia. I didn’t know you’d be here. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I accept that.”

“Do you?” I assert quietly, gazing at her and taking all of us by surprise. With a slight frown, she moves farther into the room.

“Yes, I get the message. I’m not here to see you. Like I said, Christian rarely has company during the week.” She pauses. “I have a problem, and I need to talk to Christian about it.”

“Oh?” Christian straightens up. “Do you want a drink?”

“Yes, please,” she murmurs gratefully.

Christian fetches a glass while Elena and I stand awkwardly gazing at each other. She fidgets with a large silver ring on her middle finger, while I don’t know where to look. Finally, she gives me a small tight smile and approaches the kitchen island and sits on the barstool at the end. She obviously knows the place well and feels comfortable moving around here.

Do I stay? Do I go? Oh, this is so difficult. My subconscious scowls at the woman with her most hostile harpy face.

There’s so much I want to say to this woman, and none of it complimentary. But she’s Christian’s friend—his only friend—and for all my loathing of this woman, I am innately polite. Deciding to stay, I sit as gracefully as I can manage on the stool Christian’s vacated. Christian pours wine into each of our glasses and sits between us at the breakfast bar. Can’t he feel how weird this is?

“What’s up?” he asks her.

Elena looks nervously at me, and Christian reaches over and clasps my hand.

“Anastasia’s with me now,” he says to her silent query and squeezes my hand. I flush, and my subconscious beams at him, harpy face forgotten.

Elena’s face softens as if she’s pleased for him.

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