Fifty Shades Darker(194)

He blinks at me in surprise and swallows. "Okay," he murmurs cautiously.

Taking a deep breath, I hand it to him, ignoring his bemused expression. He shakes the box, and it produces a very satisfactory rattle. He frowns. I know he's desperate to see what it contains. Then he grins, his eyes alight with youthful, carefree excitement. Oh boy... he looks his age - and so beautiful.

"You can't open it until Saturday," I warn him.

"I get it," he says. "Why are you giving this to me now?" He pops the box into the inside pocket of his blue pinstriped jacket, close to his heart.

How apt, I muse. I smirk at him.

"Because I can, Mr. Grey."

His mouth twists with wry amusement.

"Why, Miss Steele, you stole my line."

We are ushered into Dr. Flynn's palatial office by a brisk and friendly receptionist. She greets Christian warmly, a little too warmly for my taste - jeez, she's old enough to be his mother - and he knows her name.

The room is understated: pale green with two dark green couches facing two leather winged chairs, and it has the atmosphere of a gentlemen's club. Dr. Flynn is seated at a desk at the far end of the room.

As we enter, he stands and walks over to join us in the seating area. He wears black pants and a pale-blue open-necked shirt - no tie. His bright blue eyes seem to miss nothing.

"Christian." He smiles amicably.

"John." Christian shakes John's hand. "You remember Anastasia?"

"How could I forget? Anastasia, welcome."

"Ana, please," I mumble as he shakes my hand firmly. I do love his English accent.

"Ana," he says kindly, ushering us toward the couches.

Christian gestures to one of them for me. I sit, trying to look relaxed, resting my hand on the couch rest, and he sprawls on the other couch beside me so that we're at right angles to each other. A small table with a simple lamp is between us. I note with interest a box of tissues beside the lamp.

This isn't what I expected. I had in my mind's eye a stark white room with a black leather chaise longue; my inner goddess might have felt more at home then.

Looking relaxed and in control, Dr. Flynn takes a seat in one of the winged chairs and picks up a leather notepad. Christian crosses his legs, his ankle resting on his knee, and stretches one arm along the back of the couch. Reaching across with his other hand, he finds my hand on the couch rest and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"Christian has requested that you accompany him to one of our sessions," Dr. Flynn begins gently. "Just so you know, we treat these sessions with absolute confidentiality - "

I raise my eyebrow at Flynn, halting him mid-speech.

"Oh - um... I've signed an NDA," I murmur, embarrassed that he's stopped. Both Flynn and Christian stare at me, and Christian releases my hand.

"A non-disclosure agreement?" Dr. Flynn's brow furrows, and he glances quizzically at Christian.

Christian shrugs.

"You start all your relationships with women with an NDA?" Dr. Flynn asks him.

"The contractual ones, I do."

Dr. Flynn's lip twitches. "You've had other types of relationships with women?" he asks, and he looks amused.

"No," Christian answers after a beat, and he looks amused, too.

"As I thought." Dr. Flynn turns his attention back to me. "Well, I guess we don't have to worry about confidentiality, but may I suggest that the two of you discuss this at some point? As I understand, you're no longer entering into that kind of contractual relationship."