Chapter 147 (1/2)
I give him my tell-me-more expression, and another nagging memory from when I was unconscious resurfaces. Clark was in my room. I wish I could remember what he said.
”Hyde had videos. Videos of all of them. On several USB flash drives.”
What? I frown, my skin tightening across my forehead.
”Videos of him f**king her. Fucking all his PAs.”
Oh!
”Exactly. Blackmail material. He likes it rough.” Christian frowns, and I watch confusion followed by disgust cross his face. He pales as his disgust turns to self-loathing. Of course - Christian likes it rough, too.
”Don't.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. His frown deepens. ”Don't what?” He stills and regards me with apprehension.
”Don't think you're anything like him.”
Christian's eyes harden, but he says nothing, confirming that's exactly what he was thinking.
”You're not.” My voice is adamant.
”We're cut from the same cloth.”
”No, you're not,” I snap, though I understand why he might think so. ”His dad died in a brawl in a bar. His mother drank herself into oblivion. He was in and out of foster homes as a kid, in and out of trouble, too - mainly boosting cars. Spent time in juvie.” I recall the information Christian revealed on the plane to Aspen.
”You both have troubled pasts, and you were both born in Detroit. That's it, Christian.” I fist my hands on my hips.
”Ana, your faith in me is touching, in spite of the last few days. We'll know more when Welch is here.” He's dismissing the subject.
”Christian - ”
He stops me with a kiss. ”Enough,” he breathes, and I remember the promise I made to myself not to hound him for information.
”And don't pout,” he adds. ”Come. Let me dry your hair.” I know the subject is closed
After dressing in sweatpants and a T-shirt, I sit between Christian's legs as he dries my hair.
”So did Clark tell you anything else while I was unconscious?”
”Not that I recall.”
”I heard a few of your conversations.”
The hairbrush stills in my hair.
”Did you?” he asks, his tone nonchalant.
”Yes. My dad, your dad, Detective Clark . . . your mom.”
”And Kate?”
”Kate was there?”
”Briefly, yes. She's mad at you, too.”
I turn in his lap. ”Stop with the everyone is mad at Ana crap, okay?”
”Just telling you the truth,” Christian says, bemused by my outburst.
”Yes, it was reckless, but you know, your sister was in danger.”