SATURDAY, JUNE 18, 2011

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Ana glances at her watch and takes one step back as I drape my jacket over the couch and place the box on top.

What’s going on?

“Open it,” she whispers.

“I was hoping you’d say that. This has been driving me crazy.”

Her smile is broad and she bites her lip, and if I’m not mistaken she’s a little nervous.

Why?

I give her a reassuring smile, unwrap the box, and open it.

Nestled inside is a keychain that shows a pixelated picture of Seattle that flashes on and off. I take it out of the box, wondering what the significance might be, but I’m lost. I have no idea.

I look to Ana for a clue.

“Turn it over,” she says.

I do. And the word “YES” flashes on and off.

Yes.

Yes.

YES.

One simple word. One profound meaning.

A life-changer.

Right here. Now.

My heartbeat spikes and I gawk at her, hoping this means what I think it means.

“Happy birthday,” she whispers.

“You’ll marry me?”

I don’t believe it.

She nods.

I still don’t believe it. “Say it.” I need to hear it from her lips.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Joy bursts in my heart—in my head, in my body, in my soul. It’s exhilarating. It’s overwhelming. Brimming with elation, I lunge forward and gather her in my arms and swing her around, laughing as I do. She clutches my biceps, her eyes shining, as she laughs, too.

I stop, set her on her feet, and grab her face and kiss her. My lips tease hers and she opens for me, like a flower: my sweet Anastasia.

“Oh, Ana,” I whisper, in adoration, my lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she says, and she looks a little dazed.

“Baby, it will take more than a malfunctioning 135 to keep me away from you.”

“135?”

“Charlie Tango. She’s a Eurocopter EC135, the safest in its class.”

But not today.

“Wait a minute.” I hold up the keychain. “You gave this to me before we saw Flynn.”

Her smile is a little smug as she nods.

What?

Anastasia Steele!

“I wanted you to know that whatever Flynn said, it wouldn’t make a difference to me.”

“So all yesterday evening, when I was begging you for an answer, I had it already?” I’m feeling breathless—giddy, even—and a little pissed off.

What the hell?

I don’t know whether to be angry or celebratory. She confounds me, even now.

Well, Grey, what are you going to do about it?

“All that worry,” I murmur darkly. She gives me an impish grin and shrugs once more. “Oh, don’t try and get cute with me, Miss Steele. Right now, I want—”

I had the answer all the time.

I want her.

Here.

Now.

No. Wait.

“I can’t believe you left me hanging.”

She watches my expression as I construct a plan. Something worthy of such audacity. “I believe some retribution is in order, Miss Steele.” My voice is low. Ominous.

Ana takes a cautious step back. Is she going to run? “Is that the game? Because I will catch you.” Her smile is playful and infectious. “And you’re biting your lip,” I add.

She takes another step back and turns to run, but I pounce and grab her. She squeals and I hoist her over my shoulder, and head for my—no, our—bathroom.

“Christian!” She swats my behind.

I swat hers back. Hard.

“Ow!” she yelps.

“Shower time,” I declare, as I carry her down the corridor.

“Put me down!” She squirms on my shoulder but my arm is locked over her thighs. What’s really making me smile are her gasps and giggles. She’s enjoying this.

As am I.

My grin is as broad and as wide as the Puget Sound when I open the bathroom door. “Fond of these shoes?” I ask. They look expensive.

“I prefer them to be touching the floor.” Her words are strangled, and I think she’s feigning outrage and trying not to laugh at the same time.

“Your wish is my command, Miss Steele.” I pull off both her shoes and they clatter onto the tiles. By the vanity I empty my pockets: phone, keys, wallet, but most precious of all is my new keychain. I don’t want to get it wet. With my pockets empty, I march into the shower, carrying Ana over my shoulder.

“Christian!” she cries. Ignoring her, I turn on the water and it cascades over us both, but mostly over Ana’s backside. It’s cold. She shrieks and laughs at once, and writhes on my shoulder.

“No! Put me down!” she says between giggles. She swats me once more, and I take pity.

Releasing her, I let her wet, clothed body slide down the length of mine.

She’s flushed. Her eyes bright and beautiful. She’s captivating.

Oh, baby.

You said yes.

I cup her face and kiss her, my lips tender on hers. I worship her mouth, cherishing her. She closes her eyes and accepts my kiss, kissing me back with a sweet hunger under the streaming shower.

The water is warmer now and her hands move to my soaking shirt. She tugs its hem from my pants. And I groan in her mouth, but I can’t stop kissing her.

I can’t stop loving her.

I won’t stop loving her.

Ever.

Slowly, she begins to unbutton my shirt, and I reach for the zipper at the back of her dress. I slide it down, feeling her warm flesh beneath my fingertips.

Oh. The feel of her. I want more. I kiss her hard, my tongue exploring her mouth.

She moans and suddenly yanks my shirt open, the buttons flying off and landing in the shower.

Whoa.

Ana!

She tugs my shirt over my shoulders and pushes me against the tiles. But she can’t remove it. “Cuff links.” I hold up my wrists. Her fingers make light work of each, and she lets them fall to the floor, followed by my shirt. Her feverish fingers reach for my waistband.

Oh no.

Not yet.

Grasping her shoulders, I spin her around, giving me easier access to her zipper. I complete its journey to its bottom and pull her dress down, just below her breasts. Her arms are still in the sleeves, restricting her movement.

I like that.

Smoothing her wet hair away from her neck, I lean forward, and with my tongue, I taste the water running off her skin, from her neck to her hairline.

She tastes so good.

I run my lips along the length of her shoulder, kissing and sucking, as my arousal strains against my zipper. She braces her hands on the tiles and groans while I kiss my favorite spot beneath her ear. Gently, I unhook her bra and push it down, then cup her breasts in my hands. I moan my appreciation. She has great tits.

Responsive, too.

“So beautiful,” I whisper in her ear. She rolls her head to one side, exposing her neck and throat, and she pushes her breasts into the palms of my hands. She reaches around, still trapped by her dress, and she finds my erection.

Sucking in a breath, I push my impatient cock into her hands. The feel of her fingers through the soaking fabric is erotic.

Gently, I tug on her nipples, first between my thumb and forefinger, then pinch them between my fingers. She whimpers, loud and clear, as they harden and lengthen under my touch.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Let me hear you, baby.

I turn her around and capture her lips with mine, peeling off her dress and her underwear until she’s naked before me; her clothes a sodden mess at our feet.

She grabs the body wash and squirts some into her hand. Gazing up at me, asking for permission, she waits.

Okay. We’re doing this.

I take a deep breath and nod.

With aching tenderness, she places her hand on my chest. I freeze and slowly she rubs in the soap, skimming small circles on my skin. The darkness is quiet.

But I’m tense.

Everywhere.

Damn it.

Relax, Grey.

She means you no harm.

After a beat, I clasp her hips and watch her face. Her concentration. Her compassion. It’s all there. My breathing accelerates. But it’s cool. I can cope.

“Is this okay?” she asks.

“Yes.” I squeeze the word out.

Her hands flow across my body to wash my underarms, my ribs, down over my belly, and down farther, to the waistband of my pants.

I exhale. “My turn.” Moving us out of the shower stream, I reach for the shampoo. I squirt some onto her head and begin massaging the soap into her hair. She closes her eyes and makes an appreciative noise deep in her throat.

I chuckle, and it’s cathartic. “You like?”

“Hmm…”

“Me, too.” I kiss her forehead and continue kneading her scalp. “Turn around.” She obeys immediately, and I continue to wash her hair. When I’m done, her head is covered in suds. I ease her under the shower once more. “Lean your head back.”

Ana complies, and I rinse out all the soap.

There is nothing I love more than taking care of my girl.

In every way.

She turns around and grabs the waistband of my pants. “I want to wash all of you,” she says. I hold up my hands in surrender.

I’m yours, Ana. Take me.

She undresses me, freeing my erection—and my pants and boxers join the rest of our clothes on the shower floor.

“Looks like you’re pleased to see me,” she says.

“I’m always pleased to see you, Miss Steele.”

We beam at each other while she grabs and soaps a sponge. She surprises me a little when she starts at my chest, and she works her way down to my ready cock.

Oh yes.

She drops the sponge and her hands are on me.

Fuck.

I close my eyes as she tightens her fingers around me. I flex my hips and groan. This is exactly how to spend the early hours of a Saturday morning after a near-death experience.

Wait.

I open my eyes and pin her with my gaze. “It’s Saturday.” I grasp her waist and pull her against my body and kiss her.

No more condoms.

My hand, wet and slick with soap, travels down her body, over her breasts, her belly, down to her sex. I tease her with my fingers while I consume her mouth and her tongue, keeping her head in place with my other hand.

I slip my fingers inside her and she moans in my mouth.

“Yes,” I hiss. She’s ready. I lift her, my hands on her backside. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” She does as she’s told, wrapping around me like warm, wet silk. I brace her against the wall.

We’re skin on skin.

“Eyes open. I want to see you.” She peers up at me, her pupils large and full of need. Slowly I sink into her, keeping my eyes on hers. I pause. Holding her on me. Holding her up. Feeling her.

“You are mine, Anastasia.”

“Always.”

Her answer makes me feel ten feet tall.

“And now we can let everyone know, because you said yes.”

Leaning down, I kiss her and ease out of her, taking my time. Savoring her. She closes her eyes and tilts back her head as we move together.

Us.

Together.

As one.

I speed up. Needing more. Needing her. Enjoying her. Loving her. Her small cries spur me on, telling me she’s climbing higher and higher. With me. Taking me.

She cries out when she comes, her head back against the wall, and I follow her, finding my release and burying my face in her neck.

Carefully, I sink to the floor as the water stream rains down on us. I hold her face in my hands and I can see that she’s crying.

Baby.

I kiss away each tear.

She shifts so her back is against mine and neither of us says anything. Our silence is golden. Quiet. After all the anxiety of this afternoon and evening, my crash landing, my marathon trek, the endless road trip, I’ve found some peace. I rest my chin on her head, my legs wrapped around her while I hold her in my arms. I love this woman—this beautiful, brave, young woman who will soon be my wife.

Mrs. Grey.

I grin and nuzzle her wet hair, surrendering us both to the cascading water.

“My fingers are pruny,” she remarks, staring down at her hands. I take her fingers in mine and kiss each one.

“We should really get out of this shower.”

“I’m comfortable here,” she says.

Me, too, baby. Me, too.

She sags against me and stares, at my toes I think, and then she chuckles.

“Something amusing you, Miss Steele?”

“It’s been a busy week.”

“That it has.”

“I thank God you’re back in one piece, Mr. Grey.” She’s suddenly serious.

I might not have been here.

Shit.

If…

I swallow as my throat constricts, and an image comes to mind of the ground speeding toward me and Ros in the cockpit of Charlie Tango. I shudder. “I was scared,” I whisper.

“Earlier?”

I nod.

“So you made light of it to reassure your family?”

“Yes. I was too low to land well. But somehow I did.”

She stares at me, fear on her face. “How close a call was it?”

“Close. For a few awful seconds, I thought I’d never see you again.” This feels like a dark, dark confession.

She moves and puts her arms around me. “I can’t imagine my life without you, Christian. I love you so much it frightens me.”

Whoa.

But I feel the same. “Me, too. My life would be empty without you. I love you so much.” I tighten my arms around her and kiss her hair. “I won’t ever let you go.”

“I don’t want to go, ever.” She kisses my throat and I bend down and kiss her.

I’m getting pins and needles in my feet. “Come—let’s get you dry and into bed. I’m tired and you look beat.”

She lifts an eyebrow.

“You have something to say, Miss Steele?”

She shakes her head and stands, waiting for me.

We clear our clothes and I grab my cuff links. Ana dumps our soaking clothes into her sink. “I’ll deal with these tomorrow,” she says.

“Good idea.” I wrap her in a towel and place one around my waist. As we brush our teeth at my sink, she gives me a frothy grin, and we both try not to laugh and choke on the toothpaste when I reciprocate.

I’m fourteen again.

In a good way.

I FINISH DRYING HER hair and she climbs into bed. She looks the way I feel, exhausted. I take another look at the keychain and at my favorite word ever written in the English language.

A word full of hope and possibilities.

She said yes.

I grin and join her in bed. “This is so neat. The best birthday present I’ve ever had. Better than my signed Giuseppe DeNatale poster.”

“I would have told you earlier, but since it was going to be your birthday…” Ana lifts her shoulder. “What do you give the man who has everything? I thought I’d give you…me.”

I place the keychain on my bedside table and snuggle up to Ana, pulling her into my arms. “It’s perfect. Like you.”

“I am far from perfect, Christian.”

“Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?”

“Maybe.” She chuckles.

I can tell, Ana. Your body language gives you away.

“Can I ask you something?” she adds.

“Of course.”

“You didn’t call on your trip back from Portland. Was that really because of José? You were worried about me being here alone with him?”

Maybe…

I feel like an idiot. I thought she was at the bar having a good time. I had no idea—

“Do you know how ridiculous that is?” she says, as she turns to face me, her eyes full of reproach. “How much stress you put your family and me through? We all love you very much.”

“I had no idea you’d all be so worried.”

“When are you going to get it through your thick skull that you are loved?”

“Thick skull?”

“Yes. Thick skull.”

“I don’t think the bone density of my head is significantly higher than anywhere else in my body.”

“I’m serious! Stop trying to make me laugh. I am still a little mad at you, though that’s partially eclipsed by the fact that you’re home safe and sound when I thought—” She stops and swallows and in a quieter tone continues. “Well, you know what I thought.”

I caress her face. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

“Your poor mom, too. It was very moving, seeing you with her,” she says quietly.

“I’ve never seen her that way.”

Grace sobbing.

Mom.

Mom sobbing.

“Yes, that was really something. She’s normally so self-possessed. It was quite a shock.”

“See? Everyone loves you. Perhaps now you’ll start believing it.” She kisses me. “Happy birthday, Christian. I’m glad you’re here to share your day with me. And you haven’t seen what I’ve got for you tomorrow, um, today.”

“There’s more?” I’m astonished. What more could I possibly want?

“Oh yes, Mr. Grey, but you’ll have to wait until then.”

She cuddles up to me and closes her eyes, and in moments she’s asleep. I’m amazed at how she can fall asleep so quickly.

“My precious girl. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to make you worry,” I whisper, and kiss her forehead. Feeling more content than I’ve ever felt in my life, I close my eyes.

Ana, burnished hair and broad smiles, is with me in Charlie Tango.

Let’s chase the dawn.

She laughs. Carefree. Young. My girl.

The light around us is golden.

She’s golden.

I’m golden.

I cough. There’s smoke. Smoke everywhere.

I can’t see Ana. She’s gone in the smoke.

And we’re diving down. Down.

Hurtling fast. In Charlie Tango.

The ground is coming up to meet me.

I close my eyes, waiting for the impact.

It never comes.

We’re in the orchard.

The trees are laden with apples.

Ana smiles, her hair free and wafting in the breeze.

She holds out two apples. A red apple. A green apple.

You choose.

Choose.

Red. Green.

I smile. And take the red apple.

The sweeter apple.

Ana takes my hand and we walk.

Hand in hand.

Past the alcoholics and addicts outside the liquor store in Detroit.

They wave and hold up their brown paper bags in salute.

Past Esclava. Elena smiles and waves.

Past Leila. Leila smiles and waves.

Ana takes my apple. She bites into it.

Mmm…tasty. She licks her lips.

Delicious. I love it.

I made it. With Grandpa.

Wow. You’re so capable.

She smiles and whirls around, her hair flying.

I love you, she cries. I love you, Christian Grey.

I wake, startled by my dream. But, I’m left with a sense of contentment, when normally I’m terrified of my dreams.

The Anastasia Steele effect.

I grin and look around. She’s not in bed. Before I get up, I check my charged phone. I have too many messages, mostly from Sam, but I don’t want to deal with him just yet. I switch off my phone and pick up my keychain to examine it once more.

She said “Yes.”

That wasn’t the most romantic proposal.

She’s right. She deserves better. If she wants the hearts and flowers shit, then I need to step up. I have an idea, and Google a florist near my parents’ home. They’re not yet open so I leave a voice mail.

Shit. I’m going to need a ring. Today.

I’ll deal with that later.

In the meantime, I go looking for Ana. She’s not in the bathroom. I wander toward the living room and hear her voice. She’s talking to her friend. I pause. And listen.

“You really like him, don’t you?” José says.

“I love him, José.”

That’s my girl.

“What’s not to love?” José says and I think he’s referring to my apartment.

“Gee, thanks!” Ana exclaims, sounding hurt.

What an asshole.

“Hey, Ana, just kidding.” José tries to placate her. “Seriously, I’m kidding. You’ve never been that kind of girl.”

No. She’s not. You dick.

“Omelet good for you?” she asks him.

“Sure.”

“And me,” I state, striding into the kitchen, surprising them both. “José.” I greet him with a nod.

“Christian.” José returns my nod.

Yeah. I heard you, you fucker, disrespecting my girl.

She’s giving me an odd look. She knows what I’m doing. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,” she says. I saunter over to her, in front of the photographer, tilt up her chin, and kiss her, long, hard, and noisily.

“Good morning, Anastasia,” I whisper.

“Good morning, Christian. Happy birthday.” She gives me a shy smile.

“I’m looking forward to my other present,” I state, and she blushes and looks nervously in Rodriguez’s direction.

Oh. What does she have planned?

Rodriguez looks like he’s swallowed a lemon.

Good.

“So what are your plans today, José?” I ask, keeping it polite.

“I’m heading up to see my dad and Ray, Ana’s dad.”

“They know each other?” I frown at this new tidbit of information.

“Yeah, they were in the Army together. They lost contact until Ana and I were in college. It’s kinda cute. They’re best buds now. We’re going on a fishing trip.”

“Fishing?” He really doesn’t look the type.

“Yeah—some great catches in these coastal waters. The steelheads can grow way big.”

“True. My brother Elliot and I landed a thirty-four-pound steelhead once.”

“Thirty-four pounds?” José says, and he seems genuinely impressed. “Not bad. Ana’s father, though, he holds the record. A forty-three-pounder.”

“You’re kidding! He never said.” But Ray wouldn’t brag. That’s not his thing, just like his daughter.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks. So, where do you like to fish?”

“All around the Pacific Northwest. Dad’s favorite is the Skagit.”

“Really, that’s my dad’s favorite, too.” I’m surprised yet again.

“He prefers the Canadian side. Ray on the other hand prefers the American.”

“Lead to some arguments?”

“Sure, after a beer or two.” José grins and I settle in beside him at the kitchen counter. Maybe this guy’s not such a dick.

“So your dad likes the Skagit. What about you?” I ask.

“I prefer coastal waters.”

“You do?”

“Sea fishing is harder. More exciting. More of a challenge. I love the sea.”

“I remember the seascapes in your exhibition. They were good. By the way, thanks for dropping those portraits off.”

He’s embarrassed by the compliment. “No problem. Where do you like to fish?”

We discuss at length the merits of fishing in rivers, in lakes, and at sea. He’s passionate about it, too.

Ana makes breakfast and watches us—happy, I think, that we’re getting along.

She pops a steaming omelet and a coffee on the counter for each of us, and sits down beside me to eat her granola. Our conversation segues from fishing to baseball, and I hope we’re not boring her. We talk about the upcoming Mariners game—he’s a fan—and I realize that José and I have much in common.

Including loving the same woman.

The woman who has agreed to be my wife.

I’m dying to tell him, but I behave.

Once I finish my breakfast, I change quickly into jeans and a T-shirt. When I come back into the kitchen, José is clearing his plate.

“Ana, that was delicious.”

“Thank you.” She colors in response to José’s praise.

“I have to go. I have to drive out to Bandera and meet the old man.”

“Bandera?” I ask.

“Yes, we’re fishing for trout in the Mount Baker National Forest. One of the lakes near there.”

“Which one?”

“Lower Tuscohatchie.”

“I don’t think I know that one. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“Say hi to Ray for me,” Ana adds.

“Will do.”

Arm in arm, Ana and I accompany José into the foyer.

“Thanks for letting me crash here.” He shakes my hand.

“Anytime,” I respond. And I’m surprised that I actually mean it. He seems harmless enough, like a puppy. He hugs Ana, and to my surprise, I don’t want to rip his arms off.

“Stay safe, Ana.”

“Sure. Great to see you. Next time we’ll have a real evening out,” she says, as he enters the elevator.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He waves from inside and the doors close.

“See, he’s not so bad,” Ana says.

Maybe.

“He still wants into your panties, Ana. But can’t say I blame him.”

“Christian, that’s not true!”

“You have no idea, do you? He wants you. Big-time.”

“Christian, he’s just a friend, a good friend.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Me neither.”

“You didn’t tell him we were getting married.”

“No. I figured I ought to tell Mom and Ray first.”

“Yes, you’re right. And I…um, I should ask your father.”

She laughs. “Oh, Christian—this isn’t the eighteenth century.”

“It’s traditional.”

And I never thought I’d have to ask any father for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Give me this moment. Please.

“Let’s talk about that later,” she says. “I want to give you your other present.”

Another present?

Nothing can top the keychain.

Her smile is mischievous and her teeth sink into her lower lip.

“You’re biting your lip again.” I tug gently at her chin. She gives me her coy look but she squares her shoulders, takes my hand, and drags me back into the bedroom.

From under the bed, she produces two wrapped gift boxes.

“Two?”

“I bought this before the, um…incident yesterday. I’m not sure about it now.” She gives me one of the parcels, but she looks anxious about it.

“Sure you want me to open it?”

She nods.

I tear off the wrapping.

“Charlie Tango,” Ana whispers.

Inside the box are the parts for a little wooden helicopter. But the bit that blows me away is the rotor. “Solar-powered. Wow.” What a thoughtful gift. And from deep in my past, a memory surfaces. My first Christmas. My first proper Christmas with Mom and Dad.

My helicopter can fly.

My helicopter is blue.

It flies around the Christmas tree.

It flies over the piano and lands in the middle of the white.

It flies over Mommy and flies over Daddy.

And flies over Lelliot as he plays with his Legos.

With Ana watching, I sit down and start to assemble it. It snaps together easily, and I hold the little blue copter in my hand.

I love it.

I beam at Ana and go over to the balcony window, where I watch the rotors start to spin under the warm rays of the sun. “Look at that. What we can already do with this technology.” I hold the helicopter at eye level, watching how easily solar energy is converted to mechanical energy. The rotors spin and spin, faster and faster.

Wow. All this in a child’s toy.

There is so much more that we could do with this simple technology. The challenge is how to store this energy. Graphene is the way to go…but can we build efficient enough batteries? Batteries that charge quickly and hold their charge—

“You like it?” Ana interrupts my thoughts.

“Ana, I love it. Thank you.” I grab her and kiss her and we watch the rotors spin. “I’ll add it to the glider in my office.” I move my hand out of the light and the rotors slow and come to a complete stop.

We move in the light.

We slow in the shadows.

We stop in the dark.

Hmm. Philosophical, Grey.

This is what Ana has done for me. She’s dragged me into the light and I quite like it.

I place Charlie Tango Mark II on the chest of drawers. “It’ll keep me company while we salvage Charlie Tango.”

“Is it salvageable?”

“I don’t know. I hope so. I’ll miss her, otherwise.”

Ana eyes me speculatively.

“What’s in the other box?” I ask.

“I’m not sure if this present is for you or me.”

“Really?”

She hands me the second box. It’s heavier and has a substantial rattle. Ana flicks her hair over her shoulder and shifts from foot to foot.

“Why are you so nervous?”

She seems excited and a little embarrassed, too. “You have me intrigued, Miss Steele. I have to say I’m enjoying your reaction. What have you been up to?” I remove the lid of the box and on top of some tissue is a small card.

On your birthday

Do rude things to me.

Please.

Your Ana x

My eyes dart to hers.

What does this mean?

“Do rude things to you?” I ask. She nods and swallows. She’s nervous, and deep down I know where this is going. She’s talking about the playroom.

Are you ready for this, Grey?

I rip open the tissue that conceals the box’s contents and retrieve an eye mask. Okay, she wants to be blindfolded. Next are some nipple clamps. Oh, not these. They’re vicious. Not beginner level. Beneath the clamps is a butt plug, but this one is way too big. She’s enclosed my iPod, too, which pleases me. She must like my music choices. And here’s my silver gray Brioni tie, so she wants to be tied up.

Last, as I suspected, there’s the key to my playroom.

She’s giving me the big blue eyes. “You want to play?” I ask, my voice soft and husky.

“Yes.”

“For my birthday?”

“Yes.” Her agreement is barely audible.

Is she doing this because she thinks I want to? Is what we do not enough for her? Am I ready for this?

“You’re sure?” I prompt.

“Not the whips and stuff.”

“I understand that.”

“Yes, then. I’m sure.”

She confounds me. Every day. I stare down at the contents of the box. Sometimes she’s just bewildering. “Sex-mad and insatiable,” I mutter. “Well, I think we can do something with this lot.”

If this is what she wants—and her words come back to me in a swirl. She’s asked me and asked me and asked me.

I like your kinky fuckery.

If I win, Christian, you’ll take me back into the playroom.

Red Room, here we come.

I want a demonstration. I like being tied up.

I place the items back in the box.

We could have some fun.

And that spark of anticipation flares and ignites in my gut. I haven’t felt it since we did our last scene in the playroom. I regard her through narrowed eyes and hold out my hand. “Now,” I state. I’ll see how willing she really is.

She puts her hand in mine.

Okay, then, we’re doing this.

“Come.” I have a million things to do since yesterday’s crash landing, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s my birthday and I’m going to have some fun with my fiancée.

Outside the playroom, I pause. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes,” she says.

“Anything you don’t want to do?”

She’s thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t want you to take photos of me.”

Why the hell would she say that? Why would I want to take pictures of her?

Grey. Of course you would, if she’d let you.

“Okay,” I agree, concerned about what has motivated this question. Does she know? That’s impossible.

I unlock the door, feeling apprehensive and excited at once—like the first time I brought her in here. I usher her in and close the door.

For the first time since she left me, the room is welcoming.

I can do this.

Placing the gift box on the chest of drawers, I remove the iPod, place it in its dock, and set the Bose sound system so the track plays over the speakers. Eurythmics. Yes. This song came out the year before I was born. It has a seductive beat. I love it. Yeah, I think Ana will like it. Setting it to repeat, I hear the track begin. It’s a little loud so I lower the volume a tad.

When I turn to her, she’s in the middle of the room, watching me, a hungry, wanton expression on her face. Her teeth are toying with her lower lip, and her hips are swinging in time to the beat of the music.

Oh, Ana, you sensual creature.

I amble over to her and gently tug her chin, releasing her lip. “What do you want to do, Anastasia?” I whisper, and plant a chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth, keeping my fingers on her chin.

“It’s your birthday. Whatever you want,” she breathes and her darkening eyes flick up to mine, full of promise.

Fuck.

She might as well be addressing my cock.

I skim my thumb across her bottom lip. “Are we in here because you think I want to be in here?”

“No. I want to be in here, too.”

She is a siren.

My siren.

In that case, let’s begin with the basics. “Oh, there are so many possibilities, Miss Steele. But let’s start with getting you naked.” I jerk the sash of her robe, undoing it, and it falls open revealing her silk nightdress.

I step back, and sit down on the arm of my chesterfield sofa. “Take your clothes off. Slowly.”

Miss Steele loves a challenge.

She slips the robe off and lets it fall like a cloud onto the floor, while her eyes stay on me. I’m hard. Instantly, as desire sweeps through my body. I run my finger over my lips to keep my hands off her.

She lifts both straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, watching me, watching her, and then drops them so her gown floats down her body to join the robe on the floor. She is naked before me in all her glory.

It makes a difference, her eyes on me.

It’s more exciting because I can’t hide anymore.

I have an idea, and stroll over to the chest of drawers to retrieve my tie from her gift box. Running it through my fingers, I walk back to where she’s patiently waiting. “I think you’re underdressed, Miss Steele.” I place it around her neck and quickly tie it in a half Windsor, but I leave the wider end long. My fingers brush her neck and she gasps, and I let the long end fall so that it skims the top of her pubic hair. “You look mighty fine now, Miss Steele.” I give her a swift kiss. “What shall we do with you now?” I murmur. Taking the tie in my hand, I tug it sharply and she’s forced into my arms. Her naked body against mine is like an incendiary device. My fingers are in her hair. My mouth is on hers and with my tongue I claim her.

Hard. Insistent. I’m taking no prisoners.

She tastes of sweet Anastasia Steele. My favorite flavor.

With my other hand, I cup her behind, feeling her fine ass.

When I release her, we’re both panting. Her breasts rising and falling with each breath.

Oh, baby. What you do to me.

What I want to do to you.

“Turn around,” I prompt. She does so immediately, and I pull the tie from her hair and braid it. No loose hair in the playroom.

I gently pull her braid, and her head tilts up. “You have beautiful hair, Anastasia.” I kiss her throat and she writhes. “You just have to say stop. You know that, don’t you?” I whisper against her skin.

She nods, her eyes closed.

But damn, she looks happy.

I turn her around and take hold of the end of the tie.

“Come.” I lead her over to the chest where her gift box sits, displaying its contents. “Anastasia, these objects.” I hold up the butt plug. “This is a size too big. As an anal virgin, you don’t want to start with this. We want to start with this.” I show her my pinkie.

Her eyes grow impossibly large.

And I have to confess, one of my favorite pastimes is shocking Ana.

“Just finger. Singular,” I add. “These clamps are vicious.” I poke the nipple clamps. “We’ll use these.” From one of the drawers I take out a kinder pair. “They’re adjustable.”

She examines them. Fascinated. I love how she’s so curious. “Clear?” I ask.

“Yes. Are you going to tell me what you intend to do?”

“No. I’m making this up as I go along. This isn’t a scene, Ana.”

“How should I behave?”

It’s a strange question. “However you want to.” And I wonder out loud if she was expecting my alter ego.

“Well, yes. I like him,” she says.

“Do you, now?” I run my thumb across her lower lip, tempted to kiss it again. “I’m your lover, Anastasia, not your Dom. I love to hear your laugh and your girlish giggle. I like you relaxed and happy, like you are in José’s photos. That’s the girl that fell into my office. That’s the girl I fell in love with.

“But, having said all that, I also like to do rude things to you, Miss Steele, and my alter ego knows a trick or two. So do as you’re told and turn around.”

She obeys, her face glowing with excitement.

I love you, Ana.

Simple.

I take what I need from the drawers, then arrange all the toys on the top. “Come.” I tug the tie and lead her to the table. “I want you to kneel up on this.” Gently I lift her onto the table, and she folds her legs beneath her and kneels in front of me.

We are nose to nose. She stares at me with shining eyes.

I run my hands down her thighs and at the knees gently pull her legs apart so that I can see my goal.

“Arms behind your back. I’m going to cuff you.”

I show her the leather elbow cuffs and lean around her to put them on. She turns and runs her parted lips along my jaw, her tongue teasing my stubble. I close my eyes and for a moment revel in the contact, suppressing a groan.

Pulling back, I admonish her, “Stop. Or this will be over far quicker than either of us wants.”

“You’re irresistible.”

“Am I, now?”

She nods, looking impertinent.

“Well, don’t distract me, or I’ll gag you.”

“I like distracting you.”

“Or spank you,” I warn. She grins. “Behave,” I scold her, and stand back and beat the cuffs across my palm.

It could so easily be your ass, Ana.

She looks modestly down at her knees. “That’s better.” I try again, and this time succeed in putting them on. I ignore her running her nose over my shoulder, but I thank God for our shower in the early hours of the morning.

The cuffs on, her back arches a little. Her breasts now prominent and begging to be touched. “Feel okay?” I ask as I admire her.

She nods.

“Good.” From my back pocket I take the mask. “I think you’ve seen enough now.” I slide it over her head and over her eyes.

Her breathing accelerates.

And I step back and drink her in.

She looks smoking hot.

Back at the drawers, I gather the items I need and slip off my T-shirt. I keep my jeans on, even though they are a little uncomfortable, because I don’t want her distracted by my impatient dick.

In front of her once more, I open the small glass bottle that contains my favorite massage oil and wave it under her nose. Infused with cedarwood, argan, and sage, it’s body-safe, and its fragrance reminds me of a crisp, fall day after the rain.

“I don’t want to ruin my favorite tie,” I mutter, as I undo it and pull it gently off Ana’s body. She squirms as the material floats up her body, teasing her.

I fold my tie and place it beside her. Her anticipation is almost palpable. Her body is humming with impatience. It’s arousing.

I pour a little oil on my hands and rub them together, warming the oil. She’s listening to what I’m doing. I love heightening her senses. Gently, I caress her cheek with my knuckles and run them down her jaw.

She startles when I touch her, but she leans into my hand. I start massaging the oil into her skin—her throat, her clavicle, and along her shoulders. I knead the muscles beneath and let my hands glide in small circles across her chest, avoiding her breasts. She bows backward, pressing them toward me.

Oh no, Ana. Not yet.

I move my fingers down her sides, rubbing in the oil in slow, measured strokes in time to the music. She groans and I don’t know if it’s from pleasure or frustration. Maybe a little of both.

“You are so beautiful, Ana,” I whisper, my lips close to her ear. I run them along her jaw as my hands work their magic. I move them beneath her breasts, over her belly, down to my goal. I kiss her quickly and inhale her scent, now mixed with the oil, down her neck and throat.

“And soon you’ll be my wife, to have and to hold.”

She inhales sharply.

“To love and to cherish.” My hands continue. “With my body, I will worship you.”

She throws her head back and moans as my fingers run through her pubic hair to her clitoris. Slowly I palm her, teasing her and spreading oil over her where she’s wet already.

It’s intoxicating.

I lean over to pick up a bullet vibrator. “Mrs. Grey.”

She moans.

“Yes,” I whisper, continuing my ministrations with my hand. “Open your mouth.” She’s already panting, but she opens her mouth farther and I slip the small vibrator inside. It’s attached to a chain and can be worn as jewelry if so required. “Suck. I’m going to put this inside you.”

She stills.

“Suck,” I repeat, and remove my hands from her body.

She flexes her knees and makes a frustrated grunt. Smiling, I pour more oil onto my palms and finally cup her breasts. “Don’t stop,” I warn, as I gently roll her stiffening nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. They harden and lengthen some more under my touch. “You have such beautiful breasts, Ana.”

She moans, and I gather one of the nipple clamps in one hand. Trailing my lips from her throat toward her breast, I stop and carefully attach a clamp.

Her garbled groan is my reward as I bring her trapped nipple to full attention with my lips. She writhes under my touch, shifting from side to side, and I clamp the remaining nipple. Ana’s groan is just as loud this time. “Feel it,” I insist, and I lean back to take in the beautiful sight.

“Give me this.” I remove the vibrator from her mouth and my hand skims down her back toward her backside and between her buttocks. She tenses and rises up on her knees. “Hush, easy,” I reassure her and kiss her neck as my fingers continue to stroke between the fine, fine cheeks of her ass.

I glide my other hand down the front of her body and start palming her clitoris once more, then ease my fingers into her. “I’m going to put this inside you,” I murmur. “Not here.” And my fingers circle her anus, spreading the oil. “But here.” And I move the fingers of my other hand slowly into and out of her vagina.

“Ah!” she responds.

“Hush now.” I stand and slide the vibrator inside her. Capturing her face with my hands, I kiss her, then click the small remote.

When the vibrator starts, she gasps and jolts up on her knees. “Ah!”

“Easy,” I whisper against her lips, stifling her gasp. I tug gently on each of the clamps in turn.

She cries out. “Christian, please!”

“Hush, baby. Hang in there.”

You can do this, Ana.

She’s panting now and dealing with all the stimulation. I’m sure it’s intense. “Good girl.” I soothe her.

“Christian,” she says, and she sounds a little frantic.

“Hush, feel it, Ana. Don’t be afraid.” I place my hands on her waist, holding her. I’m right here, baby. I’ve got this. You’ve got this.

I dip my little finger into the open pot of lube and slowly I move my hands down her back to her ass, watching her reaction; checking that she’s okay. I massage her skin and knead her ass, her stunning ass, and I slip one hand between her buttocks.

“So beautiful.” Gently, I push my finger inside her ass so that I feel the vibrator buzzing through her body. She tenses and I move my finger slowly, easing in and out while my teeth graze her chin. “So beautiful, Ana.”

She gasps, then groans and kneels up a little higher, and I know she’s close. Her lips start to move, but whatever she’s saying, it’s soundless. Suddenly she screams as her orgasm strikes. With my free hand I release first one, then the other nipple clamp, and she cries out.

I hold her close as her body pulses through her climax, still easing my finger in and out of her.

“No,” she shouts, and I know she’s had enough.

I remove my finger and the vibrator while keeping her in my arms. She sags against me, but her body is still convulsing. Deftly I unstrap the cuffs on one arm and she falls forward against me. Her head rolling on my shoulder as her intense climax begins to subside.

Her legs must be aching. She groans as I lift her and carry her to the bed, where I lay her faceup on the satin sheets. Using the remote, I switch off the music, then remove my jeans, freeing my raging erection. I start to rub the back of her legs, her knees, her calves, and then her shoulders, and I remove the cuffs. Lying down beside her, I peel off her mask and find her eyes are scrunched closed. With tenderness I untie her braid, freeing her hair. Leaning forward, I kiss her on the lips. “So beautiful,” I say.

She opens one dazed eye.

“Hi.” I smile down at her.

She grunts in response.

“Rude enough for you?”

She nods and gives me a sleepy grin.

Ana, you never fail.

“I think you’re trying to kill me.”

“Death by orgasm. There are worse ways to go.”

Like plunging to your death in Charlie Tango.

She reaches up and caresses my face and my dispiriting thought disappears. “You can kill me like this anytime,” she says. Taking her hand, I kiss her knuckles. I’m so proud of her. She never lets me down in here. She cups my face between her hands and kisses me.

I stop, pulling back. “This is what I want to do,” I whisper. From beneath the pillow, I pull out the remote and change the song. I press the button, knowing it will play on repeat, and ease Ana onto her back. “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”—Roberta Flack’s classic fills the room. “I want to make love to you,” I murmur. My lips seek and find hers, and her fingers entwine in my hair.

“Please,” Ana breathes, and her sensitized body rises to meet mine, opening up for me as I gently ease into her, and we make slow, sweet love.

I watch her fall apart in my arms and her climax takes me with her. I let go, pouring myself into her, throwing my head back and calling out her name in wonder.

I love you, Ana Steele.

I hold her to me. I never want to let her go.

My joy is complete. Have I ever been this happy?

As I come back to planet earth, I smooth her hair from her face and look down at the woman I love.

She’s crying.

“Hey.” I clasp her head in my hands. Did I hurt her? “Why are you crying?”

“Because I love you so much,” she says, and I close my eyes, letting her words wash over me.

“And I you, Ana. You make me…whole.” I kiss her once more as the music stops, and gather the sheet and wrap it around us both. She looks glorious; her hair is a mess and her eyes are luminous in spite of her tears. She’s so full of life.

“What do you want to do today?” she asks.

“My day is made, thank you.” I kiss her.

“Mine, too.”

I love Ana’s inner freak; she’s never far away. And I think of the plans that I have for her later. I hope they will make her day, too. “Well, I should call my head of PR. But frankly, I’d like to remain in this bubble with you.”

“About the crash?”

“I’m playing hooky.”

“It is your birthday, Mr. Grey. You’re allowed. And I like having you to myself.” She leans up and grazes her teeth against my jaw. She looks happy, and free, if a little tired. “I love your music choices. Where do you find them?”

“I’m glad you like them. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep I’ll either play the piano or trawl iTunes.”

“I don’t like to think about you unable to sleep and on your own. It sounds lonely,” Ana says, her compassion showing.

“To be honest, I never felt lonely until you left. I didn’t realize how miserable I was.”

She cups my face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Ana. What I did was wrong.”

She puts her finger over my lips. “Hush,” she says. “I love you just the way you are.”

“That’s a song.”

She laughs and she changes the subject; asking me about work.

“WE’VE COME A LONG way,” Ana says, caressing my face.

“We have.”

She looks wistful all of a sudden.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

“The photo shoot that José did. Kate. How in command she was. And how hot you looked.”

“Hot?” Me?

“Yeah. Hot. And Kate was all: Sit here. Do this. Do that.” Her impersonation of Kavanagh is spot on. I laugh.

“To think it could have been her who came to interview me. Thank the Lord for the common cold.” I kiss the tip of her nose.

“I believe she had the flu, Christian,” she scolds, and unconsciously trails her fingers through my chest hair. It’s weird, but I think she’s driven the darkness away. I don’t even flinch. “All the canes have gone,” she says, as she glances around the playroom. I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t think you’d ever get past that hard limit.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” She turns and stares at the whips, paddles, and floggers on the wall.

“You want me to get rid of them, too?” I ask.

“Not the crop…the brown one. Or that suede flogger.” She gives me a coy smile.

“Okay, the crop and the flogger. Why, Miss Steele, you’re full of surprises.”

“As are you, Mr. Grey. It’s one of the things I love about you.” She kisses the corner of my mouth.

Suddenly I need to hear this from her, because I still can’t quite believe it. “What else do you love about me?”

Her eyes soften with her affection. “This,” she says, and traces her finger across my lips, tickling them. “I love this, and what comes out of it, and what you do to me with it. And what’s in here.” She strokes the side of my head. “You’re so smart and witty and knowledgeable, competent in so many things. But most of all, I love what’s in here.” She presses her palm against my chest. “You are the most compassionate man I’ve ever met. What you do. How you work. It’s awe-inspiring.”

“Awe-inspiring?” I repeat her last words, not quite believing them but loving them anyway. A slow smile tugs at my mouth, but before I can say anything she launches herself at me.

ANA DOZES FOR A few minutes, in my arms. I lie staring up at the ceiling, enjoying her weight on me. Could I be any more content? I don’t think so. She wakes when I kiss her forehead.

“Hungry?” I ask.

“Hmm, famished.”

“Me, too.”

She puts her arm on my chest and studies me. “It’s your birthday, Mr. Grey. I’ll cook you something. What would you like?”

“Surprise me.” I run my hand down her back. “I should check my BlackBerry for all the messages I missed yesterday.” I sigh when I sit up. I could spend all day with her in here.

“Let’s shower,” I say.

She grins and together, wrapped in one red sheet, we head down to the bathroom.

Once Ana is dressed she takes all the wet clothes from last night out of her sink and heads out the door. Wearing a tiny blue dress, she’s all legs.

Too much leg.

Well at least it’s just us.

And Taylor.

I stop shaving for a moment. “Leave them for Mrs. Jones,” I call after her. She glances over her shoulder and smiles.

FEELING BUOYANT, I SIT down at my desk. Ana is working in the kitchen, and I have a ton of e-mails and messages to get through. Most are from Sam, annoyed that I’ve not called him. But there are others…moving messages from my mother, from Mia, my dad, and Elliot, all begging me to call. It’s painful to hear their concern.

And Elena.

Shit.

Ana’s hesitant voice is next.

Hi…um…it’s me. Ana. Are you okay? Call me. Her concern is obvious. My heart constricts as it becomes blindingly clear that I’ve put her and my family through hell.

Grey, you’re an idiot.

You should have called.

I save all the messages bar Elena’s and return to the most important voice mail, from the florist in Bellevue. I call them back to outline my requirements, and I’m relieved that they can help me, given such short notice.

Then I call my favorite jewelry store. Okay, the only jewelry store I know. I purchased Ana’s earrings there, and it looks like they’ll be able to help me with the ring.

If I were a superstitious man I would say that these are good omens for what’s to come.

Next, I call Sam.

“Mr. Grey, where have you been?” He’s pissed. Tough.

“Busy.”

“The press has been all over the helicopter story. There are several TV news and print outlets that want an interview—”

“Sam—draw up a statement. Tell them Ros and I are fine. And send it through to me for approval. I’m not interested in doing any interviews. Print, TV, or otherwise.”

“But, Christian, this is a great opp—”

“The answer’s no. Get me the statement.”

He’s silent for a moment, publicity whore that he is. “Yes, Mr. Grey,” he says, tight-lipped. I hear, and ignore, his reluctance, but I’m beginning to think I need a new PR person. His credentials were seriously overstated when we checked his references.

“Thanks, Sam.” I hang up.

I buzz Taylor on the internal phone system.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Grey.”

“What news?”

“I’ll come down, sir.”

Taylor tells me that Charlie Tango has been found, and that a recovery crew is on its way with an FAA official and someone from Airbus, Charlie Tango’s manufacturer.

“I hope they’ll be able to provide some answers.”

“I’m sure they will, sir,” says Taylor. “I’ve e-mailed you a list of people you should call.”

“Thanks. There’s one more thing. I’m going to need you to pop down to this store.” I explain what I’ve discussed with the jeweler. Taylor gives me a broad grin.

“With pleasure, sir. Will that be all?”

“For now, yes. And thanks.”

“You’re most welcome, and happy birthday.” He gives me a nod and leaves.

I pick up the phone and start making my way through Taylor’s list of calls.

While I’m on the phone giving a report to the FAA, an e-mail from Ana pops up.

---

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Lunch

Date: June 18 2011 13:12

To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

I am e-mailing to inform you that your lunch is nearly ready.

And that I had some mind-blowing, kinky fuckery earlier today.

Birthday kinky fuckery is to be recommended.

And another thing—I love you.

A x

(Your fiancée)

I’m sure Mrs. Wilson on the other end of the phone at the FAA can hear my smile. With one finger, I type a response.

---

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Kinky Fuckery

Date: June 18 2011 13:15

To: Anastasia Steele

What aspect was most mind-blowing?

I’m taking notes.

Christian Grey

Famished and Wasting Away After the Morning’s Exertions CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

P.S.: I love your signature.

P.P.S.: What happened to the art of conversation?

I conclude the phone call with Mrs. Wilson and leave my study to find Ana.

She’s concentrating hard. I tiptoe up to the kitchen counter as she types into her phone. She presses send, looks up, and jumps when she sees me smirking at her. I bound around the kitchen island, pull her into my arms, and kiss her, taking her by surprise once more. “That is all, Miss Steele,” I say when I release her, and I stroll back into my study feeling ridiculously pleased with myself.

Her e-mail is waiting.

---

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Famished?

Date: June 18 2011 13:18

To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

May I draw your attention to the first line of my previous e-mail informing you that your lunch is indeed almost ready…so none of this famished and wasting away nonsense. With regard to the mind-blowing aspects of the kinky fuckery…frankly—all of it. I’d be interested in reading your notes. And I like my bracketed signature, too.

A x

(Your fiancée)

P.S.: Since when have you been so loquacious? And you’re on the phone!

I call my mom to tell her about the flowers.

“Darling, how are you? Recovered? It’s all over the press.”

“I know, Mom. I’m fine. I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“I’ve asked Ana to marry me. She’s said yes.”

My mother is stunned into silence.

“Mom?”

“Christian, I’m sorry. That’s wonderful news,” she says, but she sounds a little hesitant.

“I know this is sudden.”

“Are you sure, darling? Don’t get me wrong, I adore Ana. But this is so soon and she’s the first girl—”

“Mom. She’s not the first girl. She’s the first one you’ve met.”

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I am delighted for you. Congratulations.”

“There’s one more thing.”

“What is it, love?”

“I’m having some flowers delivered, for the boathouse.”

“Why?”

“Well, my first proposal was pretty crap.”

“Oh, I see.”

“And, Mom—don’t tell anyone else. I want it to be a surprise. I plan to make an announcement this evening.”

“As you wish, darling. Mia is in charge of deliveries for the party. Let me find her.”

I wait for what feels like an eternity.

Come on, Mia.

“Hey, big brother. Thank God you are still with us. What gives?”

“Mom tells me you are coordinating deliveries for my party. How big is this bash, anyway?”

“After your near-death experience, we’re celebrating.”

Oh, hell.

“Well, I have a delivery coming for the boathouse.”

“Yes? What?”

“From the Bellevue Florist.”

“Why? What for?”

Christ, she can be annoying. I look up and Ana is standing in her short, short dress staring at me. “Just let them in and leave them alone. Do you understand, Mia?”

Ana cocks her head to one side, listening.

“Okay. Don’t get your panties in a wad. I’ll send them to the boathouse.”

“Good.”

Ana mimes eating.

Food. Great.

“I’ll see you later,” I say to Mia and hang up. “One more call?” I ask Ana.

“Sure.”

“That dress is very short.”

“You like it?” Ana pirouettes in the doorway and her skirt flares up, providing a tantalizing glimpse of her lacy underwear.

“You look fantastic in it, Ana. I just don’t want anyone else to see you like that.”

“Oh!” She looks upset. “We’re at home, Christian. No one but the staff.”

I don’t want to upset her. I nod as graciously as I can manage and she turns and heads back to the kitchen.

Grey, get a grip.

The next call I have to make is to Ana’s father. I have no idea what he’s going to say when I ask him for his daughter’s hand in marriage. From Ana’s file, I get Ray’s mobile number. José said he was fishing. I just hope he’s somewhere with a signal.

No. He isn’t. The call goes to voice mail. “Ray Steele. Leave a message.”

Short and to the point.

“Hi, Mr. Steele, it’s Christian Grey here. I’d like to talk to you about your daughter. Please call me.” I give him my number and hang up.

What did you expect, Grey?

He’s in the wilds of the Mount Baker Park.

While I have Ana’s file on my desk, I decide to deposit some money into her bank account. She’ll have to get used to having money.

“Twenty-four thousand dollars!”

“Twenty-four thousand dollars, to the lovely lady in silver, going once, going twice. Sold!”

I chuckle, remembering her audacity at the auction. I wonder what she’ll make of this. I’m sure it will be an interesting discussion. On my computer, I transfer fifty thousand dollars to her account. It should show up within the hour.

My stomach growls. I’m hungry. But my phone starts ringing. It’s Ray. “Mr. Steele. Thank you for calling back—”

“Is Annie okay?”

“She’s fine. More than fine. She’s great.”

“Thank the Lord. What can I do for you, Christian?”

“I know you’re fishing.”

“I’m trying. Not catching much today.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” This is more nerve-racking than I anticipated. My palms are sweating and Mr. Steele says nothing, cranking my anxiety up a notch.

Supposing he says no? This is not something I’ve considered.

“Mr. Steele?”

“I’m still here, Christian, waiting for you to get to the point.”

“Yes. Of course. Um. I called because, um, I’d like your permission to marry your daughter.” The words tumble out like I’ve never negotiated or clinched a deal in my life. What’s more, they’re met with a resounding silence.

“Mr. Steele?”

“Put my daughter on the line,” he says, giving nothing away.

Shit.

“Just a minute.” I dart out of my study to where Ana is waiting, and hold out the phone to her. “I have Ray for you.”

Her eyes widen with shock. She takes the phone and covers the mouthpiece. “You told him!” she squeaks.

I nod.

She takes a deep breath, and removes her hand from the mouthpiece. “Hi, Dad.”

She listens.

She seems calm.

“What did you say?” she asks, and listens again, her eyes on me. “Yes. It is sudden. Hang on.” She gives me another unreadable look and heads to the other end of the room and out onto the balcony, where she continues her conversation.

She starts pacing up and down, but she stays close to the window.

And I’m helpless. All I can do is watch her.

Her body language gives nothing away. Suddenly, she stops and beams. Her smile could light Seattle. He’s either said yes…or no.

Hell.

Damn it, Grey. Stop with the negative.

She says something else. And she looks like she’s going to cry.

Shit. That’s not good.

She stomps back and she shoves the phone at me, looking several shades of pissed off.

Nervously, I put the phone to my ear. “Mr. Steele?” Feeling Ana’s gaze on my back, I wander into my study just in case it’s bad news.

“Christian, I think you ought to call me Ray. Sounds like my little girl is crazy about you and I’m not one to get in her way.”

Crazy about you. My heart flips and soars.

“Well, thank you, sir.”

“You hurt her in any way and I’ll kill you.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“Crazy kids,” he mutters. “Now you take good care of her. Annie is my light.”

“She’s mine, too…Ray.”

“And good luck with telling her mother.” He laughs. “Now let me get back to my fishing.”

“I hope you top the forty-three-pounder.”

“You know about that?”

“José told me.”

“He’s a talkative guy. Good day, Christian.”

“It is now.” I grin.

“I HAVE YOUR STEPFATHER’S rather begrudging blessing,” I announce to Ana in the kitchen. She laughs and shakes her head.

“I think Ray is freaked out,” she says. “I’ve got to tell my mom. But I’d like to do that on a full stomach.” She waves in the direction of the counter where our food is waiting. Salmon, potatoes, salad, and an interesting dip. She’s also selected some wine. A Chablis. “Well, this looks great.” I open the wine and pour us each a small glass.

“Damn, you’re a good cook, woman.” I raise my glass to Ana in appreciation. Her lighthearted expression fades and I’m reminded of the expression on her face outside the playroom this morning. “Ana? Why did you ask me not to take your photo?”

Her consternation deepens, worrying me. “Ana, what is it?” My tone is sharper than I intended and she jumps.

“I found your photos,” she says, as if she’s committed some terrible sin.

What photos? But as I say the words, I realize exactly what she’s talking about. And I feel like I’m back in my father’s study, waiting for a pompous dressing-down for some infraction I’ve committed.

“You’ve been in the safe?” How the hell did she do that?

“Safe? No. I didn’t know you had a safe.”

“I don’t understand.”

“In your closet. The box. I was looking for your tie, and the box was under your jeans. The ones you normally wear in the playroom…Except today.”

Fuck.

No one should see those photographs. Especially Ana. How did they get there?

Leila.

“It’s not what you think. I’d forgotten all about them. That box had been moved. Those photographs belong in my safe.”

“Who moved them?” Ana asks.

“There’s only one person who could have done that.”

“Oh. Who? And what do you mean it’s not what I think?”

Confess, Grey.

You’ve already alluded to the depths of your depravity.

This is it, baby. Fifty shades.

“This is going to sound cold, but—they’re an insurance policy.”

“Insurance policy?”

“Against exposure.”

I watch her face as she realizes what I mean. “Oh.” She closes her eyes as if she’s trying to erase what I’ve told her. “Yes. You’re right,” she says quietly. “That does sound cold.” She stands and starts to clear the dishes; it’s to avoid me.

“Ana.”

“Do they know? The girls. The subs?”

“Of course they know.”

Before she can escape to the sink, I fold her into my arms. “Those photos are supposed to be in the safe. They’re not for recreational use.”

They were once upon a time, Grey.

“Maybe they were when they were taken originally. But—they don’t mean anything.”

“Who put them in your closet?”

“It could only have been Leila.”

“She knows your safe combination?”

I guess. “It wouldn’t surprise me. It’s a very long combination, and I use it so rarely. It’s the one number I have written down and haven’t changed. I wonder what else she knows and if she’s taken anything else out of there.” I’ll check it. “Look, I’ll destroy the photos. Now, if you like.”

“They’re your photos, Christian. Do with them as you wish.” And I know she’s offended and hurt.

Christ.

Ana. This was all before you.

I take her head in my hands. “Don’t be like that. I don’t want that life. I want our life, together.” I know she struggles with not being enough for me. Maybe she thinks I want to do those things to her and photograph her.

Grey, be honest, of course you would.

But I’d never do it without her permission. I had all my submissives’ consent to having their photographs taken.

Ana’s wounded expression reveals her vulnerability. I thought we’d moved on. I want her as she is. She’s more than enough. “Ana, I thought we exorcised all those ghosts this morning. I feel that way. Don’t you?”

Her eyes soften. “Yes. Yes, I feel like that, too.”

“Good.” I kiss her and hold her, feeling her body relax against mine. “I’ll shred them. And then I have to go to work. I’m sorry, baby, but I have a mountain of business to get through this afternoon.”

“It’s cool. I have to call my mother,” she says, and makes a face. “Then I want to do some shopping and bake you a cake.”

“A cake?”

She nods.

“A chocolate cake?”

“You want a chocolate cake?”

I grin.

“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Grey.”

I kiss her once more. I don’t deserve her. I hope, one day, I’ll prove that I do.

ANA WAS RIGHT, the photographs are in my closet. I will have to ask Dr. Flynn to find out if Leila moved them. When I walk back into the living room, Ana’s not there. I suspect she’s calling her mother.

There’s a certain irony in sitting at my desk and shredding these photographs: relics of my old life. The first photograph is of Susannah, bound and gagged, on her knees on the wooden floor. It’s not a bad photograph, and briefly I wonder what José would make of this subject matter. The thought amuses me, but I put the first few photographs through the shredder. I turn the rest of the pile over so I can’t see the images and within twelve minutes they’re all gone.

You still have the negatives.

Grey. Stop.

I’m relieved to find that nothing else is missing from the safe. I turn to my computer and make a start on my e-mails. My first task is to rewrite Sam’s pretentious statement about my crash landing. I edit it—it lacks clarity and detail—and I send it back to him.

Then I scroll through my text messages.