Fifty Shades Darker(96)

I gaze at myself in the dresser mirror. I'm wearing the pale blue shirt that Taylor bought and had packed for me. My hair is a mess, my face flushed, my lips swollen - I touch them, remembering Christian's searing kisses, and I can't help a small smile as I stare. Yes, I do, he said.

"Where are we going exactly?" I ask as we wait in the lobby for the parking valet.

Christian taps the side of his nose and winks at me conspiratorially, looking like he's desperately trying to contain his glee. Frankly, it's very un-Fifty.

He was like this when we went gliding - perhaps that's what we're doing. I beam back at him. He stares down his nose at me in that superior way he has with his lopsided grin.

Leaning down, he kisses me gently.

"Do you have any idea how happy you make me feel?" he murmurs.

"Yes... I know exactly. Because you do the same for me."

The valet zooms up in Christian's car, wearing a face-splitting grin. Jeez, everyone is so happy today.

"Great car, sir," he mumbles as he hands over the keys. Christian winks and gives him an obscenely large tip.

I frown at him. Honestly.

As we cruise through the traffic, Christian is deep in thought. A young woman's voice comes over the loudspeakers; it has a beautiful, rich, mellow timbre, and I lose myself in her sad, soulful voice.

"I need to make a detour. It shouldn't take long," he says absentmindedly, distracting me from the song.

Oh, why? I'm intrigued to know the surprise. My inner goddess is bouncing about like a five-year-old.

"Sure," I murmur. Something is amiss. Suddenly, he looks grimly determined.

He pulls into the parking lot of large car dealership, stops the car, and turns to face me, his expression wary.

"We need to get you a new car," he says. I gape at him.

Now? On a Sunday? What the hell? And this is a Saab dealership.

"Not an Audi?" is, stupidly, the only thing I can think of to say, and bless him, he actually flushes.

Holy cow - Christian, embarrassed. This is a first.

"I thought you might like something else," he mutters. He's almost squirming.

Oh, please... This is too valuable an opportunity not to tease him. I smirk. "A Saab?"

"Yeah. A 9-3. Come."

"What is it with you and foreign cars?"

"The Germans and the Swedes make the safest cars in the world, Anastasia."

Do they? "I thought you'd already ordered me another Audi A3?"

He gives me a darkly amused look. "I can cancel that. Come." Climbing smoothly out of the car, he strolls gracefully to my side and opens my door.

"I owe you a graduation present," he says softly and holds his hand out for me.

"Christian, you really don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do. Please. Come." His tone says he's not to be trifled with.

I resign myself to my fate. A Saab? Do I want a Saab? I quite like the Audi Submissive Special. It was very nifty.

Of course, now it's under a ton of white paint... I shudder. And she's still out there.

I take Christian's hand, and we wander into the showroom.

Troy Turniansky, the salesman, is all over Fifty like a cheap suit. He can smell a sale.

Weirdly his accent sounds mid-Atlantic, maybe British? It's difficult to tell.

"A Saab, sir? Pre-owned?" He rubs his hands with glee.

"New." Christian's lips set into a hard line.

New!

"Did you have a model in mind, sir?" And he's smarmy, too.