“You should. It suits you.”

I laugh and kiss the top of her head, remembering that she was very taken with the word when she overheard it in Harrods.

London. Happy times.

“A requiem?” There’s a trace of censure in her murmur.

I shrug. “It’s just a lovely piece of music, Ana.” And I get to hold you.

Taylor coughs, and grudgingly I release her. “Miss Matteo is here,” he announces.

“Show her in.” I clasp Ana’s hand as Gia enters.

“Christian. Ana.” She beams at us, and we each shake her hand.

“Gia,” I respond, politely.

“You both look so well after your honeymoon,” she purrs.

I pull Ana close. “We had a wonderful time, thank you.” I plant a soft kiss on my wife’s temple and she slips her hand into my back pocket, and, to my delight, squeezes my butt.

Gia’s smile falters a little. “Have you managed to look over the plans?” she asks brightly.

“We have,” Ana says with a quick glance at me. I can’t help my grin. Ana’s gone all territorial and is laying claim to me. I like it.

“Please, the plans are here.” I wave in the direction of our dining table. Reluctantly, I pull away from Ana, but hold her hand.

“Would you like something to drink?” Ana asks Gia. “A glass of wine?”

“That would be lovely. Dry white if you have it,” she responds.

I switch off the music as Gia joins me by the table.

“Would you like some more wine, Christian?” Ana calls.

“Please, baby.” I watch as she retrieves the wineglasses.

Gia stands beside me. “This is good work, Gia,” I say, as she moves a little too close. “This especially.” I point at the rear elevation of her CAD drawing. “I think Ana has some opinions on the glass wall, but generally we’re both pleased with the ideas you’ve come up with.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Gia coos, and she pats my arm.

Keep your fucking distance. She’s wearing a cloying, rich perfume that’s almost suffocating.

I step out of her reach and call to Ana. “Thirsty here.”

“Coming right up,” Ana responds.

A beat later, she’s back with glasses of wine for each of us, and she inserts herself between Gia and me—deliberately, I think. Has she noticed how Gia is incapable of keeping her hands to herself?

“Cheers.” I offer up my glass in thanks to Ana and take a sip of wine.

“Ana, you have some issues with the glass wall?” Gia prompts.

“Yes. I love it—don’t get me wrong. But I was hoping that we could incorporate it more organically into the house. After all, I fell in love with the house as it was, and I don’t want to make any radical changes.”

“I see.” Gia’s eyes flick to mine, and I look at Ana.

She continues, “I just want the design to be sympathetic, you know, more in keeping with the original house.” Ana glances at me.

“No major renovations?” I say.

“No.”

“You like it as it is?”

“Mostly, yes. I always knew it just needed some TLC.”

Ana’s eyes are glowing, reflecting mine, I’m sure.

Are we talking about the house, or me?

“Okay.” Gia gives us a quick glance before pitching a revised plan. “I think I get where you’re coming from, Ana. How about if we retain the glass wall, but have it open out onto a larger deck that’s in keeping with the Mediterranean style. We have the stone terrace there already. We can put in pillars in matching stone, widely spaced so you’ll still have the view. Add a glass roof, or tile it as per the rest of the house. It’ll also make a sheltered alfresco dining and seating area.”

Ana looks impressed.

Gia continues, “Or instead of the deck, we could incorporate a wood color of your choice into the glass doors—that might help to keep the Mediterranean spirit.”

“Like the bright blue shutters in the South of France,” Ana says, looking at me.

I’m not keen on the idea, but I’m not going to shoot her down in front of Ms. Matteo. Besides, if that’s what Ana wants, she can have it. I’ll learn to live with it. I ignore Gia, preening beside me.

“Ana, what do you want to do?” I ask.

“I like the deck idea.”

“Me, too.”

Ana turns her attention to Gia. “I think I’d like to see revised drawings, showing the bigger deck and pillars that are in keeping with the house.”

“Sure,” Gia says to Ana. “Any other issues?”

“Christian wants to remodel the master suite,” Ana says.

Another discreet cough interrupts us.

“Taylor?” He’s standing on the threshold.

“I need to confer with you on an urgent matter, Mr. Grey.”

I squeeze Ana’s shoulders and address Gia. “Mrs. Grey is in charge of this project. She has absolute carte blanche. Whatever she wants, it’s hers. I completely trust her instincts. She’s very shrewd.” Ana reaches up and pats my hand.

“If you’ll excuse me.” I leave them, and follow Taylor into his office. Prescott is there, seated at the CCTV monitor bank. Over her shoulder, all the feeds from around the apartment and also from the perimeter of Escala and the garage are on display.

“Mr. Grey,” Prescott greets me.

“Evening. What gives?”