CHAPTER 8: SHARK, WHAT LIGHT THROUGH YONDER WINDOW BREAKS
"So," Grace Grey said. "You may call me Grace."
That's a relief, I thought. I had no idea if she shared Christian's surname or not, and I didn't think she'd take kindly to being referred to as ma'am. We were sitting in Christian's living room, I think. Pretty much every room in his manse was decorated exactly the same – stark greys, uncomfortable furniture and pianos sitting in corners, begging to be melodramatically played in the middle of the night.
"Nice to finally make your acquaintance, Grace," I said.
"I'm sure you've heard plenty of me from Christian already, right?"
"Actually," I said. "No. Christian's never mentioned you to me."
Grace laughed elegantly, as only a rich person could.
"Oh, I really do like you, you know. You're the first one of his many girlfriends to actually tell me the truth. Everyone else has always been so polite and meek to me. Glad he's finally found someone with a little fire in their heart."
My inner goddess threw another log on the bonfire in response to this praise.
"I mean," she continued, "usually when someone's confronted with the richest woman on Earth they get soooo intimidated, let me tell you. It's hard to get anyone's honest opinion when everyone's scared of you. You're not scared of me, are you Ana?"
Grace paused and stared me directly in the eyes. I wasn't intimidated by her before, but her telling me that everyone's scared of her made me a little scared of her, seeing as how I am part of everyone. I probably would have been a little terrified of her but all my hormones had been used up during the morning's sex – my inner goddess had built herself a tiny, impenetrable good vibes fortress. I met Grace's stare evenly.
"No, Grace, I'm not scared of you. I've faced some messed up stuff in my life and you don't even come close."
"Dear, I'm leagues scarier than whatever Christian's put you through."
I couldn't help but laugh in her face. Well, I could have helped but laughing in her face was very satisfying, so I did it on purpose.
"Christian's a little kitten compared to some of the shit I've seen. Don't underestimate me."
Grace paused a moment and a small smirk came to her lips. Humor danced in her eyes as well. Mirth played across her face. Christian walked into the room, carrying a tray loaded with snacks and several wine glasses.
"Ladies," he said. "I've brought a peace offering…"
Christian trailed off. He'd noticed me and Grace staring intently at each other, smiles on our lips. We broke eye contact, looked at Christian enter and then glanced back at each other and both burst out laughing.
Christian looked shellshocked. "You can't both be getting along, can you? That's never happened before."
Grace chuckled lightly, money falling from her pockets as the small movement jostled her. "I like this one, son. I think I'll let you keep her."
Christian paused a beat before chuckling politely. "I don't think Ana's the type to be kept, mother."
Grace frowned. I think. Her wrinkle-free face didn't really seem to lend itself to expressions.
"Yes, of course. My apologies, Ana."
Upon hearing his mother apologize, Christian looked like he suffered PTSD from his previous shellshock.
"It's not like she's one of those Orcas you were always trying to keep as a child. You know, he-"
The tray Christian was carrying smashed to the ground, spilling wine and cheese everywhere. A small wheel of cheese rolled across the room and came to a rest against my foot.
"I'll go fetch someone to tell the cleaning staff to get this tidied up. One moment." Christian abruptly turned and stalked out of the room.
I bent down and picked up the floor cheese. Grace watched on, curiously. (Or mildly amused or furiously angry, again, really hard to tell.) I held it up to the light, looking for any hairs or debris. Satisfied, I popped the whole thing into my mouth.
It was exquisite. Grace's expression remained immutable, but she was giving me a thumbs down, so pretty sure that means she disapproves. Whatever. My stint in clothing retail in college made me immune to caring what older white women think of me.
