The Secret Sister M. DeLuca (read 50 shades of grey .txt) 📖

same as everyone else. For all I knew, the thick mattress cover in our luxury Vegas hotel was probably hiding a multitude of gross stains. Not to mention bedbugs.

I’d rather buy a tent and go camping. Any day.

I put down the paper and curled my arms around Guy’s waist, resting my head on the silky skin of his chest, tracing a finger down the faint line of hairs below his navel. “How’s your inner-city drop-in project going?”

“What’s that?” he said, casually.

“You know. The drop-in school for homeless teens.”

He sighed and I sensed the tension as the muscles shifted in his shoulder.

“We put it on the back-burner. Dad needs help with his new app, so I’m cutting down on my university teaching for now to give him a hand.”

“You’re kidding.” I sat up and grabbed my newspaper, holding it up like a trophy. “I just read this feature. It says there’s way more kids living in seedy hotels and motels. They barely have any supervision. Nobody checks that they go to school. They just drift from one house to another, sleeping on couches or mooching around malls during the day, which basically makes them easy pickings for all the predatory weirdos and perverts out there.”

Guy looked bemused. “Don’t you think I already know that?”

A buzzing started up in my head. I raised my voice to drown it out. “Apparently you don’t if you can just cancel your project like it’s an inconvenient hair appointment.”

He raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Hold on. Did I say cancel?”

By that time I didn’t want to listen. I was on a roll. “You don’t understand. There’s no time to waste. We’re raising a whole generation of illiterate kids who’ll gravitate towards a life of crime and addiction. I’d say there’s a massive demand right there.”

“Won’t you just back up a bit here.” He took off his glasses and wiped them. His eyes appeared vulnerable and unfocused without the lenses to sharpen them. He squinted at me and I sat back against the pillows, shaking.

“Okay.” I nodded.

“I want you to work on it with me. But first, we need to do something about your job.”

“What about my job?” The hairs on the back of my neck bristled.

“Maybe it’s time to quit that place.”

“Says who?”

He reached his hand out to touch mine. I jerked it away into my lap. “I do – well, Dad mentioned it. He thinks maybe you could come to work with us for a while and then, once you get some experience, we’ll go back to my project.”

“I barely know your father and he’s trying to organize my life.” My voice rose as the thudding in my head started up again. Even though I’d flirted with the idea of working for him, I balked at Gord’s arrogance. I wouldn’t be a pushover like Guy and Nancy.

“In case you hadn’t realized, he’s now your father-in-law. Not some random stranger.”

I sat up, feeling the familiar sense of panic that set in when other people tried to steer the course of my future. To send me away, take me in, uproot me and rip me away from everything I knew. I’d vowed long ago I’d never be at anyone’s mercy again. “He has no right to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do without talking it over with me first.”

The newspaper slid off the duvet onto the floor. Guy’s shoulders stiffened. “It’s not like that, Anna – just listen.”

“Maybe he’s ashamed of his new daughter-in-law. He thinks I should be doing something more acceptable to his upscale corporate friends.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Guy’s eyes widened. “He’s just trying to be helpful. So am I for that matter.”

I pulled the sheets up to cover my nakedness. “You call it help. I call it interference. And just because he has you tucked into his back pocket doesn’t mean he can do the same thing with me too.”

As soon as the words were out, I wanted to bite them back. How could I say those things when I’d actually crawled into Guy’s pocket like some greedy parasite, consuming everything he had to offer?

“I’m sorry,” I said, my hand flying to my mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I don’t get it,” he hissed. “I don’t get you.”

I tried to backpedal. “I mean I appreciate everything he’s done for you – for us.”

It was too late. Guy threw the sheets back and moved far away from me. “I share my money, my home, my family, my love with you. I don’t pressure you about your past. God knows what you’ve been through. But I don’t care. I respect your privacy. No questions asked – and you dare to say I’m in my father’s pocket because I’m in business with him, and a successful business I might add.” He clambered out of bed and began to gather his breakfast dishes. “You certainly don’t mind reaping the benefits of it. In fact, if I took a look in that closet, I’d say you were pretty much reveling in it.”

My breath came in short bursts. I wanted to go back in time and replay the past minute. I tumbled out of bed, dragging the covers with me. “I’ve got a wicked tongue. I swear I don’t know when to shut up. I didn’t mean it.”

He dragged his sweats on, his face tight and pale. “Sure you didn’t. Take a good, long look at yourself, Anna, before you start preaching to me.” Then, pulling on his sweatshirt and shoes, he slammed out of the condo before I could say another word.

I sank back onto the edge of the bed, black dots dancing in front of my eyes, nausea swelling my gut. Why couldn’t I keep my stupid mouth shut? I’d promised myself to stay calm this time. Keep my thoughts to myself. That’s how I’d managed to escape the streets. By being the one in control. By keeping a low profile and waiting for the right moment. It’d