“He’s in Seoul, on business.” My tone doesn’t brook further discussion. I smile at the thought of angry, jealous Christian – intimidating as the image can be it’s also smoking hot. He avoids commenting and deftly changes tract, “so where’s the possessive ex tonight? I was half expecting him to wait for me, shotgun in hand.” His remark is dry but the twist of resentment is unmistakable. “I hope you’re not going back on your word,” I tut, “we’re just friends remember? This isn’t a date.” I keep my tone light, playful even but I’m hoping that reminding him will be enough to keep him in his place. “You look gorgeous Anastasia,” the growling whisper leaves little doubt in my mind, no matter what he says, that he thinks of this as a date. Dr Shawn leans over to me, speaking close to my ear.
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