Stranger at My Door

CH23: Ana

Ana’s POV

Christian has bought some clothes for me; they are in boxes stacked on top of each other on a small table in his room. Each box contains a complete outfit, including silky coordinating undergarments. It feels odd that he has bought a wardrobe like that.

“Christian, you do not need to keep buying things like this for me!”

“It is done! And get used to it, I am just getting started.” He kisses me gently and leaves.

I open the first box and put on a set of gray undies with yellow roses and pink lace with a matching bra. There is a simple dress with small sleeves that end at my shoulders and a high neck. The dress ends at the top of my knees and besides the black rectangle on the torso, it is all beige; in the box, there is a pair of black pumps as well. It is an outfit I would have picked for myself and it fits me like a glove. I decide to let my hair down today; long, wavy and free.

I make my way to the kitchen in search of Christian. “Excuse me, where is Christian?” I ask the chef, Maggie I think, since I cannot seem to find him.

“Yes, Miss. Mr. Grey is taking his breakfast on the patio today. This way please.”

I follow Maggie through the screened in porch from last night to a patio surrounded my small trees and green shrubbery, and the old house is visible at the distance. It is a very pleasant day, the sun is out, and there is no wind. It is very pleasing.

Christian is wearing a navy blue suit, matching tie and a crisp white shirt. He has some facial hair on his neck, chin, and upper lip – like a five o’clock shadow though it is eight in the morning.

Christian is drinking coffee and running his hand over his hair; it is still wet but now it is quite messy. As soon as he notices me, he stands, fixes his tie and gives me a small kiss. It must be illegal to look this good in the morning – I do not think I will ever get tired of admiring him.

“I am sorry.” He says as he hands me a crumpled newspaper. His eyes looked like a lost little boy looking for some kindness and used to only find hatred.

I read it, several times, as I take a seat in front of him. He runs his right index finger on his lower lip, his face impassive, his brow creasing at times, expecting I suppose, to see how I’ll react. There is nothing there that I have not read about him before. Although, now, I know there is more to the stories.

“I have so many questions.” I look at him shyly through my lashes – do I really want to uncover the layers behind the Adonis?

“Questions?”

“Perhaps we can play twenty questions sometime.” I try to keep my voice even – I am afraid I’ll break him if I say the wrong thing; though, his face is impassive as always.

He nods. “Tonight.” He promises; his voice is but a whisper so low I barely hear him; his shoulders are squared and his eyes fixed somewhere far away.

“Gresteele?” He smiles; so I continue. “Isn’t that a town in Europe somewhere?”

He takes his phone out and searches. “In Northern Ireland.” I reach over and look at the pictures; Christian smiles and visually relaxes as he talks about visiting Ireland when he was young. I talk about my desire to go to England someday.

We eat toasted bagels with rich soft cream cheese and salmon. The salmon is pink, fresh, and sliced impossibly thin. There are a few bowls of fresh fruits, cappers, hard boiled eggs and onions in the middle of the table. I put a spoon full of egg and cappers on top of mine and make my tea the way I like it – weak, no sugar or cream. Soon enough Christy joins us for breakfast. She has boiled eggs and mashed bananas which seem to be Christy’s favorite.