Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 4
PartofmewantstosaythatifIwanttogetdrunkeverynightlikethis,thenit’smydecisionandnothingtodowithhim—butI’mnotbraveenough.NotnowthatI’vethrownupinfrontofhim.Whyishestillstandingthere?
“No,”Isaycontritely.“I’veneverbeendrunkbeforeandrightnowIhavenodesiretoeverbeagain.”
Ijustdon’tunderstandwhyhe’shere.Ibegintofeelfaint.HenoticesmydizzinessandgrabsmebeforeIfallandhoistsmeintohisarms,holdingmeclosetohischestlikeachild.
“Comeon,I’lltakeyouhome,”hemurmurs.
“IneedtotellKate.”I’minhisarmsagain.
“Mybrothercantellher.”
“What?”
“MybrotherElliotistalkingtoMissKavanagh.”
“Oh?”Idon’tunderstand.
“Hewaswithmewhenyouphoned.”
“InSeattle?”I’mconfused.
“No,I’mstayingattheHeathman.”
Still?Why?
“Howdidyoufindme?”
“Itrackedyourcellphone,Anastasia.”
Oh,ofcoursehedid.Howisthatpossible?Isitlegal?Stalker,mysubconsciouswhispersatmethroughthecloudoftequilathat’sstillfloatinginmybrain,butsomehow,becauseit’shim,Idon’tmind.
“Doyouhaveajacketorapurse?”
“Er…yes,Icamewithboth.Christian,please,IneedtotellKate.She’llworry.”Hismouthpressesintoahardline,andhesighsheavily.
“Ifyoumust.”
Hesetsmedownand,takingmyhand,leadsmebackintothebar.Ifeelweak,stilldrunk,embarrassed,exhausted,mortified,and,onsomestrangelevel,absolutelyoff-the-chartsthrilled.He’sclutchingmyhand—suchaconfusingarrayofemotions.
