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"That I'm a dull person, too, Dr. Flynn?"
He snorts. "No, Anastasia, that you don't give much away."
"There's not much to give away." I smile.
"I sincerely doubt that." He unexpectedly frowns.
I flush, but the music finishes and Christian is once more by my side. Dr. Flynn releases me. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Anastasia." He gives me his warm smile again, and I feel that I've passed some kind of hidden test.
"John." Christian nods at him.
"Christian." Dr. Flynn returns his nod, turns on his heel, and disappears through the crowd.
Christian pulls me into his arms for the next dance.
"He's much younger than I expected," I murmur to him. "And terribly indiscreet."
Christian cocks his head to one side. "Indiscreet?"
"Oh yes, he told me everything," I tease.
Christian tenses. "Well, in that case, I'll get your bag. I'm sure you want nothing more to do with me," he says softly.
I stop. "He didn't tell me anything!" My voice fills with panic.
Christian blinks before relief floods his face. He pulls me into his arms again. "Then let's enjoy this dance." He beams down, reassuring me, then spins me round.
Why would he think that I'd want to leave? It makes no sense.
We dance for two more numbers, and I realize I need the restroom.
"I won't be long."
As I make my way to the powder room, I remember I have left my purse on the dinner table, so I head down to the marquee. When I enter, it's still lit but quite deserted, except for a couple at the other end, who really ought to get a room! I reach for my bag.
"Anastasia?"
A soft voice startles me, and I turn to see a woman dressed in a long, tight, black velvet gown. Her mask is unique. It covers her face to her nose but also covers her hair. It's stunning with elaborate gold filigree.
"I'm so glad you're on your own," she says softly. "I've been wanting to talk to you all evening."
"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."
She pulls the mask from her face and releases her hair.
Shit! It's Mrs. Robinson.
"I'm sorry, I startled you."
I gape at her. Holy cow - what the f**k does this woman want?
I don't know what the social conventions are for meeting known molesters of children.
She's smiling sweetly and gesturing for me to sit at the table. And because I am lacking any sphere of reference, I do as she asks out of stunned politeness, grateful that I am still wearing my mask.
"I'll be brief, Anastasia. I know what you think of me... Christian's told me."
I gaze at her impassively, giving nothing away, but I'm pleased that she knows. It saves me telling her, and she's cutting to the chase. Part of me is beyond intrigued as to what she could have to say.
She pauses, glancing over my shoulder. "Taylor's watching us."
I peek around to see him scanning the tent by the doorway. Sawyer is with him. They are looking anywhere but at us.
"Look, we don't have long," she says hurriedly. "It must be obvious to you that Christian is in love with you. I have never seen him like this, ever." She emphasizes the last word.
What? Loves me? No. Why is she telling me? To reassure me? I don't understand.
"He won't tell you because he probably doesn't realize it himself, notwithstanding what I've said to him, but that's Christian. He's not very attuned to any positive feelings and emotions he may have. He dwells far too much on the negative. But then you've probably worked that out for yourself. He doesn't think he's worthy."
I am reeling. Christian loves me? He hasn't said it, and this woman has told him that's how he feels? How bizarre.
A hundred images dance through my head: the iPad, the gliding, flying to see me, all his actions, his possessiveness, one hundred thousand dollars for a dance. Is this love?
And hearing it from this woman, having her confirm it for me is, frankly, unwelcome.
I'd rather hear it from him.
My heart constricts. He feels unworthy? Why?
"I've never seen him so happy, and it's obvious that you have feelings for him, too." A brief smile flits across her lips. "That's great, and I wish you both the best of everything.
But what I wanted to say is if you hurt him again, I will find you, lady, and it won't be pleasant when I do."
She stares at me, ice-cold blue eyes boring into my skull, trying to get under my mask.
Her threat is so astonishing, so off the wall that an involuntary, disbelieving giggle escapes me. Of all the things she could say to me, this is the least expected.
"You think this is funny, Anastasia?" she splutters in dismay. "You didn't see him last Saturday."
My face falls and darkens. The thought of Christian unhappy is not a palatable one, and last Saturday I left him. He must have gone to her. The idea makes me queasy. Why am I sitting here listening to this shit from her of all people? I slowly rise, gazing at her intently.
"I'm laughing at your audacity, Mrs. Lincoln. Christian and I have nothing to do with you. And if I do leave him and you come looking for me, I'll be waiting - don't doubt it.
And maybe I'll give you a taste of your own medicine on behalf of the fifteen-year-old child you molested and probably f**ked-up even more than he already was."
Her mouth falls open.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than waste my time with you."
I turn on my heel, adrenaline and anger coursing through my body, and stalk toward the entrance of the tent where Taylor is standing just as Christian arrives, looking flustered and worried.
"There you are," he mutters, then frowns when he sees Elena.
