Fifty Shades of Grey(177)

Christian is still nowhere to be seen, and Mrs. Jones is checking the contents of the pantry.

"Tea now, Miss Steele?" she asks.

"Please." I smile at her. I feel slightly more confident now that I'm dressed.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No, thank you."

"Of course you'll have something to eat," Christian snaps, glowering. "She likes pancakes, bacon, and eggs, Mrs. Jones."

"Yes, Mr. Grey. What would you like, sir?"

"Omelet, please, and some fruit." He doesn't take his eyes off me, his expression unfathomable. "Sit," he orders, pointing to one of the bar stools.

I oblige, and he sits beside me while Mrs. Jones busies herself with breakfast. Gosh, it's unnerving having someone else listen to our conversation.

"Have you bought your air ticket?"

"No, I'll buy it when I get home - over the Internet."

He leans on his elbow, rubbing his chin.

"Do you have the money?"

Oh no.

"Yes," I say with mock patience as if I'm talking to a small child.

He raises a censorious eyebrow at me. Crap.

"Yes, I do, thank you," I amend rapidly.

"I have a jet. It's not scheduled to be used for three days, it's at your disposal."

I gape at him. Of course he has a jet, and I have to resist my body's natural inclination to roll my eyes at him. I want to laugh. But I don't, as I can't read his mood.

"We've already made serious misuse of your company's aviation fleet. I wouldn't want to do it again."

"It's my company, it's my jet." He sounds almost wounded. Oh, boys and their toys!

"Thank you for the offer. But I'd be happier taking a scheduled flight."

He looks like he wants to argue further but decides against it.

"As you wish," he sighs. "Do you have much preparation to do for your interview?"

"No."

"Good. You're still not going to tell me which publishing houses?"

"No."

His lips curl up in a reluctant smile.

"I am a man of means, Miss Steele."

"I am fully aware of that, Mr. Grey. Are you going to track my phone?" I ask innocently.

"Actually, I'll be quite busy this afternoon, so I'll have to get someone else to do it."

He smirks.

Is he joking?

"If you can spare someone to do that, you're obviously overstaffed."

"I'll send an email to the head of human resources and have her look into our head count." His lips twitch to hide his smile.

Oh thank the Lord, he's recovered his sense of humor.

Mrs. Jones serves us breakfast and we eat quietly for a few moments. After clearing the pans, tactfully, she heads out of the living area. I peek up at him.

"What it is, Anastasia?"

"You know, you never did tell me why you don't like to be touched."

He blanches, and his reaction makes me feel guilty for asking.

"I've told you more than I've ever told anybody." His voice is quiet as he gazes at me impassively.

And it's clear to me that he's never confided in anyone. Doesn't he have any close friendsPerhaps he told Mrs. RobinsonI want to ask him, but I can't - I can't pry that invasively. I shake my head at the realization. He really is an island.

"Will you think about our arrangement while you're away?" he asks.