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Elena laughs, but it’s hollow, and I really want her to go. “I know. I’m sorry. You know I care about you. I never thought you’d end up falling in love, Christian. It’s very gratifying to see. But I couldn’t bear it if she hurt you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I state wryly. “Now, are you sure you don’t want Welch to sniff around?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm.”

“Okay. I’ll call him in the morning.”

“Thank you, Christian. And I am sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll go. Next time I’ll call.”

“Good.”

I stand and she takes the hint and gets up, too. We walk into the foyer and she gives me a peck on the cheek. “I’m just watching out for you,” she says.

“I know. Oh, and another thing, can you not gossip to my mother about my relationship with Ana?”

“Okay,” she says, but her mouth is pinched. She’s irritated now.

The elevator doors open and she steps inside.

“Good night.”

“Good night, Christian.”

The doors close and Ana’s words from her e-mail earlier today come to mind.

Irritating baggage.

I chuckle, in spite of myself. Yes, Ana. You are so right.

Ana is sitting on my bed. Her look is inscrutable. “She’s gone,” I say, anxious about Ana’s reaction. I don’t know what she’s thinking.

“Will you tell me all about her? I am trying to understand why you think she helped you.” She glances down at her fingernails, then up at me, her eyes clear with conviction. “I loathe her, Christian. I think she did you untold damage. You have no friends. Did she keep them away from you?”

Oh, Christ. I’ve really had enough of this. I do not need this now. “Why the fuck do you want to know about her? We had a very long-standing affair, she beat the shit out of me often, and I fucked her in all sorts of ways you can’t even imagine, end of story.”

She’s taken aback. Eyes flashing, she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Why are you so angry?”

“Because all of that shit is over!” And I’m shouting.

Ana looks away, her mouth a hard line.

Damn it.

Why am I so volatile around her…?

Calm down, Grey.

I sit down beside her. “What do you want to know?”

“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t mean to intrude.”

“Anastasia, it’s not that. I don’t like talking about this shit. I’ve lived in a bubble for years with nothing affecting me and not having to justify myself to anyone. She’s always been there as a confidante. And now my past and my future are colliding in a way I never thought possible. I never thought I had a future with anyone, Anastasia. You give me hope and have me thinking about all sorts of possibilities.”

You’ve said you’d move in with me.

“I was listening,” she whispers, and I think she’s embarrassed.

“What? To our conversation?” Christ. What did I say?

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“She cares for you.”

“Yes, she does. And I for her in my own way, but it doesn’t come close to how I feel about you. If that’s what this is about.”

“I’m not jealous,” she says quickly, and tosses her hair over her shoulder again.

I’m not sure I believe her.

“You don’t love her?”

I sigh. “A long time ago, I thought I loved her.”

“When we were in Georgia you said you didn’t love her.”

“That’s right.”

She’s perplexed.

Oh, baby, do I have to spell it out for you?

“I loved you then, Anastasia. You’re the only person I’d fly three thousand miles to see. The feelings I have for you are very different from any I ever had for Elena.” Ana asks me when I knew this. “Ironically, it was Elena who pointed it out to me. She encouraged me to go to Georgia.”

Ana’s expression changes. She looks wary. “So you desired her? When you were younger.”

“Yes. She taught me a great deal. She taught me to believe in myself.”

“But she also beat the shit out of you.”

“Yes, she did.”

“And you liked that?”

“At the time I did.”

“So much that you wanted to do it to others?”

“Yes.”

“Did she help you with that?”

“Yes.”

“Did she sub for you?”

“Yes.”

Ana’s shocked. Don’t ask me if you don’t want to know.

“Do you expect me to like her?”

“No. Though it would make my life a hell of a lot easier. I do understand your reticence.”

“Reticence! Jeez, Christian—if that were your son, how would you feel?”

What a ridiculous question.

Me. With a son?

Never.

“I didn’t have to stay with her. It was my choice, too, Anastasia.”

“Who’s Linc?”

“Her ex-husband.”

“Lincoln Timber?”

“The very same.”

“And Isaac?”

“Her current submissive. He’s in his mid-twenties, Anastasia. You know—a consenting adult.”

“Your age,” she says.

Enough. Enough.

“Look, Anastasia, as I said to her, she’s part of my past. You are my future. Don’t let her come between us, please. And quite frankly, I’m really bored of this subject. I’m going to do some work.” I stand and look down at her. “Let it go. Please.”

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