Fifty Shades of Grey(73)

"Just to apologize, you know - for Friday."

Christian narrows his eyes.

"I see," he says simply.

Taylor reappears.

"Mr. Grey, there's an issue with the Darfur shipment."

Christian nods curtly at him.

"Charlie Tango back at Boeing Field?"

"Yes sir."

Taylor nods at me.

"Miss Steele."

I smile tentatively back at him, and he turns and leaves.

"Does he live hereTaylor?"

"Yes." His tone is clipped. What is his problem?

Christian heads over to the kitchen and picks up his BlackBerry, scrolling through some emails, I assume. His mouth presses in a hard line, and he makes a call.

"Ros, what's the issue?" he snaps. He listens, watching me, gray eyes speculative, as I stand in the middle of the huge room wondering what to do with myself, feeling extraordinarily self-conscious and out of place.

"I'm not having either crew put at risk. No, cancel... We'll air drop instead... Good."

He hangs up. The warmth in his eyes has disappeared. He looks forbidding, and with one quick glance at me, he heads into his study and returns a moment later.

"This is the contract. Read it, and we'll discuss it next weekend. May I suggest you do some research, so you know what's involved." He pauses. "That's if you agree, and I really hope you do." He adds, his tone softer, anxious.

"Research?"

"You'll be amazed what you can find on the Internet," he murmurs.

Internet! I don't have access to a computer, only Kate's laptop, and I couldn't use Clayton's, not for this sort of 'research' surely?

"What is it?" he asks, cocking his head to one side.

"I don't have a computer. I'll see if I can use Kate's laptop."

He hands me a manila envelope.

"I'm sure I can... err, lend you one. Grab your things, we'll drive back to Portland and grab some lunch on the way. I need to dress."

"I'll just make a call," I murmur. I just want to hear Kate's voice. He frowns.

"The photographer?" His jaw clenches, and his eyes burn. I blink at him. "I don't like to share, Miss Steele. Remember that." His quiet, chilling tone is a warning, and with one long, cold look at me, he heads back to the bedroom.

Holy crap. I just wanted to call Kate, I want to call after him, but his sudden aloofness has left me paralyzed. What happened to the generous, relaxed, smiling man who was making love to me not half an hour ago?

"Ready?" Christian asks as we stand by the double doors to the foyer.

I nod uncertainly. He's resumed his distant, polite, uptight persona, his mask back up and on show. He's carrying a leather messenger bag. Why does he need thatPerhaps he's staying in Portland, and then I remember graduation. Oh yes... he'll be there on Thursday.

He's wearing a black leather jacket. He certainly doesn't look like the multi-multi million-aire, billionaire, what-ever-aire, in these clothes. He looks like a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, maybe a badly behaved rock star or a catwalk model. I sigh inwardly, wishing I had a tenth of his poise. He's so calm and controlled. I frown, recalling his outburst about Jose... Well, he seems to be.

Taylor is hovering in the background.

"Tomorrow then," he says to Taylor who nods.

"Yes sir. Which car are you taking, sir?"

He looks down at me briefly.

"The R8."

"Safe trip, Mr. Grey. Miss Steele." Taylor looks kindly at me, though perhaps there's a hint of pity hidden in the depths of his eyes.