TAYLOR

Sir, false alarm with my daughter.

On my way back to Seattle.

Should be there 3 p.m.

I delete them all. I know I’m going to have to deal with Elena at some point, but I don’t feel like it now. I open a spreadsheet from Fred with the cost projections for the Kavanagh contract.

The smell of baking drifts into my study. The aroma is mouth-watering and evokes one of the few happy memories I have of my early childhood. It’s a bittersweet feeling. The crack whore. Baking.

A movement distracts me from my thoughts and the spreadsheet I’m reading. It’s Ana, standing in my study doorway. “I’m just heading to the store to pick up some ingredients,” she says.

“Okay.” Not dressed like that, surely?

“What?”

“You going to put some jeans on or something?”

“Christian, they’re just legs,” she says dismissively, and I grit my teeth. “What if we were at the beach?” she says.

“We’re not at the beach.”

“Would you object if we were at the beach?”

We’d be on a private beach. “No,” I respond.

She gives me a wicked smile. “Well, just imagine we are. Laters.” She turns and bolts.

What? She’s running?

And before I know it, I’m out of my seat and going after her. I see a flash of turquoise exit through the main entrance at speed and I pursue her into the foyer, but she’s in the elevator and the doors are closing when I catch up with her. She gives me a wave from inside and then she’s gone. Her haste is such an overreaction, I want to laugh.

What did she think I’d do?

Shaking my head, I walk back to the kitchen. The last time we played tag, she left me. The thought is sobering. I stand at the fridge and pour myself some water and I spy my cake cooling on a wire rack. I bend to sniff it and my mouth waters. I close my eyes and a memory of the crack whore resurfaces.

Mommy is home. Mommy is here.

She’s wearing her biggest shoes and a short, short skirt. It’s red. And shiny.

Mommy has purple marks on her legs. Near her butt.

She smells good. Like candy.

“Come in, big guy, make yourself comfortable.”

She’s with a man. A big man with a big beard. I don’t know him.

“Not now, Maggot. Mommy has company. Go play in your room with your cars. I’ll bake you a cake when I’m done.”

She closes her bedroom door.

I hear a ping of the elevator and I turn around expecting Ana to walk back in, but it’s Taylor with two men, one holding a briefcase, the other as broad as he is tall, carrying himself like hired muscle.

“Mr. Grey.” Taylor introduces the younger, smarter man, who’s carrying the briefcase. “This is Louis Astoria, from Astoria Fine Jewelry.”

“Ah. Thank you for coming.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Grey.” He’s animated. His ebony eyes are warm and friendly. “I have some fine pieces to show you.”

“Excellent. Let’s look at these in my study. If you’d like to follow me.”

I know immediately which platinum ring I want. It’s not the biggest; it’s not the smallest. It’s the finest and most elegant ring, with a four-carat diamond of the highest quality, grade D, and internally flawless clarity. It’s beautiful, oval in shape, in a simple setting. The others are too fussy or too gaudy—not right for my girl.

“You’ve made a fine choice, Mr. Grey,” he says, as he pockets my check. “I’m sure your fiancée will love it. And we can get it resized if necessary.”

“Thank you again for coming. Taylor will see you out.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grey.” He hands me the ring box and leaves my study with Taylor. I take one more look at the ring.

I really hope she likes it. I place it in my desk drawer and sit down. I wonder if I should call Ana, just to say hi, but dismiss the idea. Instead I listen to her message once more. Hi…um…it’s me. Ana. Are you okay? Call me.

Just hearing her voice is enough. I return to my work.

WHILE I’M ON THE phone with the Airbus engineer, I stare out of the window at the sky. It’s the same blue as Ana’s eyes. “And the Eurocopter specialist is due Monday afternoon?”

“He’s flying from Marseilles-Provence near our headquarters in Marignane, to Paris, then to Seattle. It’s the earliest we can get him there. We’re fortunate that our base in the Pacific Northwest is at Boeing Field.”

“Good. Just keep me informed.”

“We’ll have our people all over the aircraft as soon as she arrives here.”

“Tell them that I’ll need their initial findings either Monday evening or Tuesday morning.”

“Will do, Mr. Grey.”

I hang up and turn back to my desk.

Ana is standing in the doorway, watching me, looking pensive and a little worried.

“Hi,” she says, and she enters my study and walks around my desk until she’s standing in front of me. I want to ask her why she ran, but she preempts me. “I’m back. Are you mad at me?”

I sigh and lift her into my lap. “Yes,” I whisper.

You ran from me, and the last time you did that, you left me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She curls into me, and rests her hand and her head against my chest. Her weight is a comfort.

“Me, neither. Wear what you like.” I place my hand on her knee just to reassure her, but as soon as I touch her, I want more. My desire is like an electric current through my body. It jolts me awake and makes me feel alive. I run my hand up her thigh. “Besides, this dress has its advantages.”

She looks up, her eyes smoky, and I bend to kiss her.

Our lips touch, and my tongue teases hers and my libido lights up like a solar flare. I feel it in her, too. She grabs my head between her hands, as her tongue wrestles with mine.

I groan as my body responds, growing hard. Wanting her. Needing her. I nip her lower lip, her throat, her ear. She moans into my mouth and yanks my hair.

Ana.

I unzip my pants and free my erection, and pull her astride me. Stretching her lacy underwear to the side and out of the way, I sink into her. Her hands grip the back of my chair, the creak of the leather giving her away. She stares down at me and begins to move. Up and down. Fast. Her rhythm is quick and frenetic.

There’s a desperation in her movements, as if she wants to make amends.

Slow, baby, slow.

I put my hands on her hips and slow her down.

Easy. Ana. I want to savor you.

I capture her mouth and she moves at a gentler pace. But her passion is in her kiss and in her touch as she tugs my head back.

Oh, baby.

She moves faster.

And faster still.

This is what she wants. She’s building. I feel it. Climbing higher and higher as she moves, faster and faster.

Ah.

She falls apart in my arms and she takes me with her.

“I LIKE YOUR VERSION of sorry,” I whisper.

“And I like yours.” She nuzzles my chest. “Have you finished?”

“Christ, Ana, you want more?”

“No! Your work.”

“I’ll be done in about half an hour.” I kiss her hair. “I heard your message on my voice mail.”

“From yesterday.”

“You sounded worried.”

She hugs me. “I was. It’s not like you not to respond.”

I kiss her once more and we sit in quiet, peaceful togetherness. I hope she always sits in my lap like this. She fits perfectly.

Finally, she shifts. “Your cake should be ready in half an hour,” she says as she stands.

“Looking forward to it. It smelled delicious, evocative even, while it was baking.” She leans down and plants a tender kiss at the edge of my mouth.

I watch her sashay out of my study as I zip up my jeans and I feel…lighter. I turn and look at the view from the window. It’s late afternoon and the sun is shining, although it’s beginning to dip toward the Sound. There are shadows on the streets below. Down there it’s already dusk, but up here the light is still golden. Maybe that’s why I live here. To be in the light. I’ve been striving for it since I was a small boy. And it’s taken an extraordinary young woman to make me realize that. Ana is my guiding light.

I’m her lost boy, now found.

ANA IS STANDING WITH a frosted chocolate cake that’s adorned with a solitary flickering candle.

She sings “Happy Birthday” to me in her sweet musical voice, and I realize I’ve never heard her sing.

It’s magical.

I blow out the candle, closing my eyes to make my wish.

I wish that Ana will always love me. And never leave me.

“I’ve made my wish,” I inform her.

“The frosting is still soft. I hope you like it.”

“I can’t wait to taste it, Anastasia.”

She cuts us each a slice and hands me a plate and a fork.

Here goes.

It’s heavenly. The frosting is sweet, the cake moist, and the filling…Mmm. “This is why I want to marry you.”

She giggles—relieved, I think—and watches me devour the rest of my cake.

ANA IS QUIET IN the car on the way to my parents’ place in Bellevue. She stares out of the window but gives me an occasional glance. She looks sensational in emerald green.

There’s little traffic tonight, and the R8 roars along the 520 bridge. About halfway across, Ana turns to me. “There was an additional fifty thousand dollars in my bank account this afternoon.”

“And?”

“You don’t—”

“Ana, you’re going to be my wife. Please. Let’s not fight about this.”

She takes a deep breath and is silent for a while as we cruise just above the pink and dusky waters of Lake Washington. “Okay,” she says. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

See, that wasn’t so hard, was it Ana?

On Monday, I’ll take care of your student loans.

“READY TO FACE MY family?” I switch off the R8 ignition. We’re parked in my parents’ driveway.

“Yes. Are you going to tell them?”

“Of course. I’m looking forward to seeing their reactions.” I’m excited. I step out of the car and open her door. It’s a little cool this evening and she pulls her wrap around her shoulders. I take her hand and we head to the front door. The driveway is choked with cars, including Elliot’s truck. It’s a bigger party than I had anticipated.

Carrick opens the front door before I can knock.

“Christian, hello. Happy birthday, son.” He takes my hand and engulfs me in a surprise hug.

This never happens. “Um…thanks, Dad.”

“Ana, how lovely to see you again.” He gives Ana a quick affectionate embrace and we follow him into the house. There’s a loud clatter of heels, and I expect to see Mia running down the hallway, but it’s Katherine Kavanagh. She looks mad.

“You two! I want to talk to you,” she gripes.

Ana gives me a blank look and I shrug. I have no idea what Kavanagh’s beef is but we follow her into the empty dining room. She shuts the door and turns on Ana. “What the fuck is this?” she hisses and waves a piece of paper at her. Ana takes it from her and reads it. Almost immediately she blanches and her startled eyes meet mine.

What the hell?

Ana steps between me and Katherine.

“What is it?” I ask, feeling anxious.

Ana ignores me and addresses Kavanagh. “Kate! This has nothing to do with you.” Katherine is surprised by her reaction.

What the fuck are they talking about?

“Ana, what is it?”

“Christian, would you just go, please?”

“No. Show me.” I hold out my hand and reluctantly she passes the piece of paper to me.

It’s her e-mail response to the contract.

Shit.

“What’s he done to you?” Katherine asks, ignoring me.

“That’s none of your business, Kate.” Ana sounds exasperated.

“Where did you get this?” I ask.

Kavanagh blushes. “That’s irrelevant.” But I stare at her and she continues. “It was in the pocket of a jacket, which I assume is yours, that I found on the back of Ana’s bedroom door.” She scowls at me, ready for battle.

“Have you told anyone?” I ask.

“No! Of course not,” she snaps, and has the gall to look offended.

Good. I walk over to the fireplace and taking a lighter from the small porcelain bowl on the mantelpiece I set fire to the corner of the printout and let it float, burning, into the grate. Both women are silent, watching me.

Once it’s reduced to ashes, I turn my attention back to them.

“Not even Elliot?” Ana asks.

“No one,” Katherine says, and she sounds emphatic. She looks a little puzzled and maybe hurt. “I just want to know you’re okay, Ana,” she says, concerned.

Unseen by them both, I roll my eyes.

“I’m fine, Kate. More than fine. Please, Christian and I are good, really good—this is old news. Please ignore it,” Ana pleads with her.

“Ignore it?” she says. “How can I ignore that? What’s he done to you?”

“He hasn’t done anything to me, Kate. Honestly—I’m good.”

“Really?” she asks.

For fuck’s sake.

I wrap my arm around Ana and stare at Katherine, trying and probably failing to keep the animosity out of my expression. “Ana has consented to be my wife, Katherine.”

“Wife!” she exclaims, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“We’re getting married. We’re going to announce our engagement this evening,” I inform her.

“Oh!” Katherine stares at Ana, stunned. “I leave you alone for sixteen days, and this happens? It’s very sudden. So yesterday, when I said—” She stops. “Where does that e-mail fit into all this?”

“It doesn’t, Kate. Forget it—please. I love him and he loves me. Don’t do this. Don’t ruin his party and our night,” Ana begs.

Katherine’s eyes fill with tears.

Shit. She’s going to cry.

“No. Of course I won’t. You’re okay?”

“I’ve never been happier,” Ana whispers, and my heart quickens.

Katherine grabs her hand, even though I still have my arm wrapped around Ana.

“You really are okay?” she asks, her voice full of hope.

“Yes.” Ana sounds happier and she shrugs out of my hold to hug her.

“Oh, Ana—I was so worried when I read this. I didn’t know what to think. Will you explain it to me?” she asks.

“One day, not now.”

“Good. I won’t tell anyone. I love you so much, Ana, like my own sister. I just thought—” She shakes her head. “I didn’t know what to think. I’m sorry. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” Katherine looks at me. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude.”

I give her a nod. Maybe she does care about Ana, but how Elliot puts up with her I’ll never know.

“I really am sorry. You’re right, it’s none of my business,” she whispers to Ana. There’s a knock that startles us all, and my mom pokes her head around the door.

“Everything okay, darling?” Mom asks, looking directly at me.

“Everything’s fine, Mrs. Grey,” Katherine offers.

“Fine, Mom,” I respond.

She expresses her relief as she enters the room. “Then you won’t mind if I give my son a birthday hug.” She gives us all a broad smile and walks into my waiting arms. I hold her close. “Happy birthday, darling,” she says. “I’m so glad you’re still with us.”

“Mom, I’m fine.” I look into her warm hazel eyes and they’re shining with maternal love.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says, and she holds her palm against my cheek.

Mom. I love you.

She steps out of my embrace. “Well, kids, if you’ve all finished your tête-à-tête, there’s a throng of people here to check that you really are in one piece, Christian, and to wish you a happy birthday.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Mom looks from Katherine to Ana, satisfied, I think, that nothing is amiss. She winks at Ana as she holds open the door for all of us. Ana takes my hand.

“Christian, I really do apologize,” Katherine says.

I acknowledge her with the briefest of nods and we walk into the hallway.

“Does your mother know about us?” asks Ana.

“Yes.”

Ana raises her eyebrows. “Oh. Well, that was an interesting start to the evening.”

“As ever, Miss Steele, you have a gift for understatement.” I kiss her knuckles and we step into the living room.

A deafening, spontaneous round of applause erupts as we enter.

Shit. So many people! Why so many people? My family. Kavanagh’s brother, Flynn and his wife. Mac! Bastille. Mia’s friend Lily and her mother. Ros and Gwen. Elena.

Elena catches my attention with a little salute while she applauds. I’m distracted by my mom’s housekeeper. She’s carrying a tray of champagne. I squeeze Ana’s hand and let it go as the applause dies down.

“Thank you, everyone. Looks like I’ll need one of these.” I take two flutes, and hand a glass to Ana.

I raise my glass in tribute to the room. Everyone moves forward, overzealous and eager to greet me because of yesterday’s accident. Elena is first to reach us, and I take Ana’s free hand. “Christian, I was so worried.” Elena kisses me on both cheeks before I have a chance to react. Ana tries to free her hand but I tighten my hold on her.

“I’m good, Elena,” I respond.

“Why didn’t you call me?” She sounds aggravated, her eyes searching mine.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Didn’t you get my messages?”

I let go of Ana’s hand and put my arm around her shoulder, instead pulling her to me.

Elena gives Ana a smile. “Ana,” she purrs. “You look lovely, dear.”

“Elena. Thank you.” Ana’s tone is saccharine and insincere.

Could this be any more awkward?

I catch Mom’s eye and she frowns, looking at the three of us.

“Elena, I need to make an announcement,” I tell her.

“Of course,” she says, with a brittle smile.

I ignore her. “Everyone,” I call out, and I wait for the hum in the room to die down. When I have everyone’s attention, I take a deep breath. “Thank you for coming today. I have to say I was expecting a quiet family dinner, so this is a pleasant surprise.” I shoot Mia a pointed look and she waves at me. “Ros and I”—I give Ros and Gwen a nod—“we had a close call yesterday.” Ros raises her glass to me. “So, I’m especially glad to be here today to share with all of you my very good news. This beautiful woman”—I look down at my girl beside me—“Miss Anastasia Rose Steele, has consented to be my wife, and I’d like you all to be the first to know.”

My announcement is met with a few gasps, a cheer, and another spontaneous round of applause. I turn to Ana, who looks flushed and beautiful, tip her chin up and give her a swift, chaste kiss. “You’ll soon be mine.”

“I am already.”

“Legally,” I mouth at her, with a wicked grin.

She chuckles.

Mom and Dad are the first to congratulate us.

“Darling boy. I’ve never seen you this happy.” Mom kisses my cheek and wipes a tear and then gushes over Ana.

“Son, I’m so proud,” Carrick says.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“She’s a lovely girl.”

“I know.”

“Where is the ring?” exclaims Mia as she hugs Ana.

Ana gives me a startled look.

“We’re going to choose one together.” I glare at my little sister. She’s such a pain in the ass sometimes.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Grey!” Mia scoffs, and she folds her arms around me. “I’m so thrilled for you, Christian,” she says. “When will you get married? Have you set a date?”

“No idea, and no we haven’t. Ana and I need to discuss all that.”

“I hope you have a big wedding here!” Her persistence is overwhelming.

“We’ll probably fly to Vegas tomorrow.”

She looks pissed, but thankfully I’m saved by Elliot, who gives me bear hug.

“Way to go, bro.” He slaps me on the back, hard.

Elliot turns to Ana and Bastille claps me on my back, too. Harder.

“Well, Grey, I did not see this coming. Congratulations, man.” He pumps my hand.

“Thank you, Claude.”

“So, when will I start training your fiancée? The thought of her kicking you onto your backside fills me with hope and joy.”

I laugh. “I’ve given her your schedule, I’m sure she’ll be in touch.”

Lily’s mother, Ashley, congratulates me, but she’s a little frosty. I hope she and Lily steer clear of my fiancée.

I rescue Ana from Mia as Dr. Flynn and his wife approach. “Christian,” says Flynn, holding out his hand, and we shake.

“John. Rhian.” I give his wife a kiss.

“Glad you’re still with us, Christian,” Flynn says. “My life would be most dull—and penurious—without you.”

“John!” Rhian scolds him, and I introduce her to Anastasia.

“Delighted to meet the woman who has finally captured Christian’s heart,” Rhian says warmly to Ana.

“Thank you,” she replies.

“That was one googly you bowled there, Christian.” Flynn shakes his head in amused disbelief.

What?

“John—you and your cricket metaphors.” Rhian scolds him again, wishes me a happy birthday and congratulates us, and soon she and Ana are deep in an animated conversation.

“That was quite the announcement, given your audience,” John says, and I know he’s referring to Elena.

“Yes. I’m sure she wasn’t expecting that,” I answer.

“We can talk about it later.”

“How’s Leila?”

“She’s good, Christian, responding well to treatment. Another couple of weeks and we can consider an outpatient program.”

“That’s a relief.”

“She’s interested in our art therapy classes.”

“Really? She used to paint.”

“So she said. I think these classes could really help.”

“Great. Is she eating?”

“Yes. Her appetite’s fine.”

“Good. Ask her something for me.”

“Of course?”

“I need to know if she moved some photography I had in my safe.”

“Ah. Yes. She told me about that.”

“She did?”

“You know how mischievous she can be. Her intention was to rattle Ana.”

“Well, it worked.”

“We can discuss that later, too.”

We’re joined by Ros and Gwen, whom I introduce to Ana.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you, Ana,” says Ros.

“Thank you. Have you recovered from your ordeal?”

Ros nods and Gwen puts her arm around her. “It was quite something,” Ros continues. “How Christian managed to land safely was a miracle. He’s an excellent pilot.”

“It was luck, and I wanted to get home to my girl,” I respond.

“Of course you did. And having met her, who can blame you?” says Gwen.

Grace announces that dinner is served in the kitchen.

Taking Ana’s hand, I give it a quick squeeze to see how she’s holding up, and we follow the guests through to the kitchen. Mia ambushes Ana in the hallway, holding two cocktail glasses, and I know she’s up to no good.

Ana gives me a brief panicked look but I let her go, watching as they enter the dining room. Mia closes the door behind them.

In the kitchen, Mac approaches me to offer his congratulations.

“Please, Mac, call me Christian. You’re at my engagement party.”

“Heard about the crash.” He listens intently as I give him the grisly details.

My mother has set out a feast with a Moroccan theme. I load a plate while Mac and I shoot the breeze about The Grace.

As I help myself to a second portion of lamb tagine, I wonder what the hell Ana and Mia are doing? I decide to go and rescue Ana but outside the dining room, I hear her shouting. “Don’t you dare tell me what I’m getting myself into!”

Shit. What gives?

“When will you learn? It’s none of your goddamned business!” Ana rages.

I try to open the door, but someone is in the way. The person moves and the door swings open. Ana is bristling with anger. Her complexion reddening. She’s shaking with fury. Elena stands before her, drenched in what must have been Ana’s drink. I shut the door and stand between them.

“What the fuck are you doing, Elena?” I snarl.

I told you to leave her alone.

She wipes her face with the back of her hand. “She’s not right for you, Christian.”

“What?” I yell and I’m so loud that I’m sure I’ve startled Ana because Elena jumps, too. But I don’t give a fuck.

I’ve warned her. And warned her.

“How the fuck do you know what’s right for me?”

“You have needs, Christian,” she says, her voice softer, and I know she’s trying to placate me.

“I’ve told you before, this is none of your fucking business.” I’m surprised by my own vehemence. “What is this?” I scowl at her. “Do you think it’s you? You? You think you’re right for me?”

Elena’s expression hardens, her eyes like flint. She stands taller and steps toward me. “I was the best thing that ever happened to you,” she hisses, with unrestrained arrogance. “Look at you now. One of the richest, most successful entrepreneurs in the United States. Controlled, driven, you need nothing. You are master of your universe.”

She’s going there.

Fuck.

I step back. Disgusted.

“You loved it, Christian, don’t try and kid yourself. You were on the road to self-destruction, and I saved you from that, saved you from a life behind bars. Believe me, baby, that’s where you would have ended up. I taught you everything you know, everything you need.”

I cannot remember a time when I’ve felt such rage. “You taught me how to fuck, Elena. But it’s empty, like you. No wonder Linc left.”

She gasps. Shocked.

“You never once held me. You never once said you loved me.”

Her ice-blue eyes narrow. “Love is for fools, Christian.”

“Get out of my house,” Grace commands in a cold fury.

The three of us jump and turn to see my mother, an avenging angel, standing on the threshold of the room. She fixates on Elena, and if looks could kill, Elena would be a small mound of ash on the floor.

I look from Grace to Elena, her color now drained from her face. And as Grace stalks toward her, Elena seems powerless to move or say anything while under my mother’s withering glare. Grace slaps her hard across her face, astonishing us all. The sound resonates off the walls. “Take your filthy paws off my son, you whore, and get out of my house—now!” Grace seethes through gritted teeth.

Fuck. Mom!

Elena clutches her cheek in shock. She blinks rapidly, staring at Grace, then turns and abruptly leaves the room, not bothering to close the door behind her.

Mom turns to me, and I cannot look away.

I see hurt and anguish written all over her face.

She says nothing as we stare at each other, and an oppressive and unbearable silence fills the room.

Finally she speaks. “Ana, before I hand him over to you, would you mind giving me a minute or two alone with my son?” It’s not a request.

“Of course,” Ana whispers. I watch Ana leave and close the door.

Mom glowers at me, saying nothing, looking at me as though she’s seeing me for the first time.

Seeing the monster she reared but did not create.

Shit.

I’m in big trouble. My scalp prickles in acknowledgment and I feel the blood drain from my face.

“How long, Christian?” she says, her voice low. And I know that tone—it’s the calm before the storm.

How much did she hear?

“A few years,” I mumble. I don’t want her to know. I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to hurt her and I know it will. I’ve known that since I was fifteen.

“How old were you?”

I swallow and my heart rate accelerates like a Formula One engine. I have to be careful here. I don’t want to cause trouble for Elena. I study Mom’s face, trying to judge how she’ll react. Should I lie to her? Could I lie to her? And part of me knows I lied to her every time I saw Elena and told her I was studying with a friend.

Mom’s eyes are piercing. “Tell me. How old were you when this all started?” she says through clenched teeth. It’s the voice that I’ve only heard on rare occasions, and I know I’m doomed. She will not stop until she has an answer.

“Sixteen,” I whisper.

She narrows her eyes and cocks her head to one side.

“Try again.” Her voice is chillingly quiet.

Hell. How does she know?

“Christian,” she warns, prompting me.

“Fifteen.”

She closes her eyes like I’ve stabbed her, her hand flying to her mouth as she stifles a sob. When she opens them, they’re filled with pain and unshed tears.

“Mom…” I try to think of something to say to take that pain away. I step toward her and she holds up her hand to stop me.

“Christian. I am so mad at you right now. I suggest you don’t come any closer.”

“How did you know? That I lied,” I ask.

“For heaven’s sake, Christian—I’m your mother,” she snaps and dashes a fallen tear from her cheek.

I feel myself blushing, feeling stupid and slightly piqued at the same time. Only my mom can make me feel this way. My mom. And Ana.

I thought I was a better liar.

“Yes, you should look shamefaced. How long did this go on for? How long did you lie to us, Christian?”

I shrug. I don’t want her to know.

“Tell me!” she insists.

“A few years.”

“Years! Years!” she shouts, making me cringe. She so rarely shouts.

“I can’t believe it. That fucking woman.”

I gasp. I have never heard Grace swear. Ever. It shocks me.

She turns and paces to the window. I stay standing. Paralyzed. Speechless.

Mom just cursed.

“And to think, all the times she’s been here…” Grace groans and puts her head in her hands. I cannot stand by any longer. I step toward her and wrap my arms around her. This is so new to me, holding my mom. I pull her to my chest, and she starts to weep quietly.

“I’ve already thought you dead this week, and now this,” she sobs.

“Mom—it’s not what you think.”

“Don’t even try it, Christian. I heard you, I heard what you said. That she taught you to fuck.”

She’s said it again!

I flinch—this isn’t her. She doesn’t swear. It’s mortifying to think I have something to do with this. The thought of hurting Grace is excruciating. I’d never want to hurt her. She saved me. And all at once I’m overwhelmed by my shame and my remorse.

“I knew something happened when you were fifteen. She was the reason, wasn’t she? The reason you suddenly calmed down, seemed to focus? Oh, Christian. What did she do to you?”

Mom! Why is she overreacting? Do I tell her that Elena brought me under control? I don’t have to tell her how. “Yes,” I murmur.

She groans again. “Oh, Christian. I’ve gotten drunk with that woman, spilled my soul to her so many nights. And to think…”

“My relationship with her has nothing to do with your friendship.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Christian! She abused my trust. She abused my son!” Her voice cracks, and once more she buries her face in her hands.

“Mom—it didn’t feel like that.”

She stands back and swats me around the head, making me duck.

“Words fail me, Christian. Fail me. Where did I go wrong?”

“Mom, this is not your fault.”

“How? How did it start?” She holds her hand up and continues hurriedly. “I don’t want to know that. What will your father say?”

Fuck.

Carrick will go batshit.

Suddenly I’m fifteen again, dreading another of his interminable lectures on personal responsibility and acceptable behavior. Christ, that’s the last thing I want.

“Yes, he’ll be mad as hell,” Mom interjects, correctly interpreting my expression. “We knew something had happened. You changed overnight—and to think it was because you got laid by my best friend.”

Right now, I want the floor to swallow me up.

“Mom—it’s been, it’s done, it’s gone. She did me no harm.”

“Christian, I heard what you said. I heard her cold response. And to think…” She puts her head in her hands once more. Suddenly her eyes fly up to meet mine, and widen in horror.

Fuck. What now?

“No!” she breathes.

“What?”

“Oh no. Tell me it’s not true, because if it is—I’ll find your father’s old pistol and I’ll shoot the bitch.”

Mom!

“What?”

“I know that Elena’s tastes run to the exotic, Christian.”

For the second time this evening, I feel slightly dizzy. Shit. She must not know this.

“It was just sex, Mom,” I mutter quickly—let’s shut that down right now. No way am I exposing my mother to that part of my life.

She narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t want the sordid details, Christian. Because that’s what this is—nasty, sordid, squalid. What kind of woman does that to a fifteen-year-old boy? It’s disgusting. To think of all the confidences I’ve shared with her. Well, you can be sure she’ll never set foot in this house again.” She presses her lips together in determination. “And you should cease all contact with her.”

“Mom, um…Elena and I run a very successful business together.”

“No, Christian. You cut your ties with her.”

I stare at her, speechless. How can she tell me what to do? I’m twenty-eight years old, for fuck’s sake.

“Mom—”

“No, Christian—I’m serious. If you don’t, I will go to the police.”

I pale. “You wouldn’t.”

“I will. I couldn’t stop it then, but I can now.”

“You’re just real mad, Mom, and I don’t blame you—but you’re overreacting.”

“Don’t tell me I’m overreacting,” she yells. “You are not going to have any kind of relationship with someone who can abuse a troubled, immature child! She should come with a health warning.” She’s glowering at me.

“Okay.” I hold my hands up defensively and she seems to compose herself.

“Does Ana know?”

“Yes, she does.”

“Good. You shouldn’t start your married life with secrets.” She frowns as if she’s speaking from personal experience. Vaguely, I wonder what that’s about, but she recovers herself.

“I’d be interested to hear what she thinks of Elena.”

“She’s kind of in your camp.”

“Sensible girl. You’ve fallen on your feet with her, at least. A lovely young woman who’s the right age. Someone you can find happiness with.”

My expression softens.

Yes. She makes me happier than I ever thought possible.

“You are to end it with Elena. Cut all ties. You understand?”

“Yes, Mom. I could do that as a wedding present to Anastasia.”

“What? Are you crazy? You’d better think of something else! That’s hardly romantic, Christian,” she scolds.

“I thought she’d like that.”

“Honestly, men! You have no idea sometimes.”

“What do you think I should give her?”

“Oh, Christian.” She sighs, then offers me a small wan smile. “You really haven’t taken in a word, have you? Do you know why I’m upset?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Tell me, then.”

I gaze at her and sigh. “I don’t know, Mom. Because you didn’t know? Because she’s your friend?”

She reaches up and gently strokes my hair, like she used to when I was small. The only place she would touch me, because it was the only place I let her.

“For all those reasons and because she abused you, darling. And you are so deserving of love. You’re so easy to love. You always have been.”

There’s a burning sensation at the back of my eyes.

“Mom,” I whisper.

She puts her arms around me, calmer now, and I hug her in return.

“You’d better go find your bride-to-be. I’m going to have to tell your father when the party’s over. No doubt he’ll want to talk to you, too.”

“Mom. Please. Do you have to tell him?”

“Yes, Christian, I do. And I hope he gives you hell.”

Fuck.

“I’m still mad at you. But madder at her.” Her face loses all trace of humor. I’d never realized how scary Grace could be.

“I know,” I murmur.

“Go on, off you go. Find your girl.” She releases me, steps back, and rubs her fingers under her eyes to wipe away her smudged makeup. She looks beautiful. This wonderful woman, who truly loves me, like I love her.

I take a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Mom.”

“I know. Go.”

I lean down and gently kiss her forehead, surprising her.

I walk out of the room to find Ana.

Shit. That was heavy.

ANA’S NOT IN THE kitchen.

“Hey, bro, want a beer?” Elliot asks.

“In a minute. I’m looking for Ana.”

“She come to her senses and run off?”

“Fuck off, Lelliot.”

She’s not in the sitting room.

She wouldn’t leave, would she?

My room? I vault up the first flight of stairs, then up the second. She’s standing on the landing. I reach the top step and stop when we are eye to eye.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she answers.

“I was worried—”

“I know,” she interrupts me. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t face the festivities. I just had to get away, you know. To think.” She caresses my face and I lean my cheek into her touch.

“And you thought you’d do that in my room?”

“Yes.”

Stepping up beside her, I reach out to her and we hold each other. She smells amazing…soothing, even. “I’m sorry you had to endure all that.”

“It’s not your fault, Christian. Why was she here?”

“She’s a family friend.”

“Not anymore. How’s your mom?”

“Mom is pretty fucking mad at me right now. I’m really glad you’re here, and that we’re in the middle of a party. Otherwise I might be breathing my last.”

“That bad, huh?”

Complete overreaction.

“Can you blame her?” Ana asks.

I consider this for a moment. Her best friend fucking her son.

“No.”

“Can we sit?”

“Sure. Here?”

Ana nods and we both sit down at the top of the stairs.

“So, how do you feel?” she asks.

I let out a deep breath.

“I feel liberated.” I shrug and it’s true. It’s like a weight has been lifted. No more worrying about what Elena thinks.

“Really?”

“Our business relationship is over. Done.”

“Will you liquidate the salon business?”

“I’m not that vindictive, Anastasia. No. I’ll gift them to her. I’ll talk to my lawyer Monday. I owe her that much.”

She gives me a quizzical look. “No more Mrs. Robinson?”

“Gone.”

Ana grins. “I’m sorry you lost a friend.”

“Are you?”

“No,” she says, sardonically.

“Come.” I stand and offer her my hand. “Let’s join the party in our honor. I might even get drunk.”

“Do you get drunk?”

“Not since I was a wild teenager.” We walk down the stairs. “Have you eaten?”

Ana looks guilty. “No.”

“Well, you should. From the look and smell of Elena, that was one of my father’s lethal cocktails you threw on her.”

“Christian, I—”

I hold up my hand. “No arguing, Anastasia. If you’re going to drink and toss alcohol on my exes, you need to eat. It’s rule number one. I believe we’ve already had that discussion after our first night together.”

An image of her lying comatose on my bed at The Heathman comes to mind. We stop in the hallway and I caress her face, my fingers skimming her jaw. “I lay awake for hours and watched you sleep,” I whisper. “I might have loved you even then.” Leaning down I kiss her, and she melts against me.

“Eat.” I motion toward the kitchen.

“Okay,” she says.

I CLOSE THE DOOR, having bid farewell to Dr. Flynn and his wife.

Finally. I can be alone with Ana. It’s just the family left. Grace has had too much to drink and is in the den, murdering “I Will Survive” on the Karaoke machine with Mia and Katherine.

“Do you blame her?” Ana asks.

I narrow my eyes. “Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?”

“I am.”

“It’s been quite a day.”

“Christian, recently, every day with you has been quite a day.”

“Fair point well made, Miss Steele. Come. I want to show you something.” I lead her through the hall into the kitchen.

Carrick, Elliot, and Ethan Kavanagh are arguing about the Mariners.

“Off for a stroll?” Elliot taunts us as we head to the French doors, but I give him the finger and otherwise ignore him.

Outside, it’s a mild night. I usher Ana up the stone steps to the lawn, where she takes off her shoes and pauses for a moment to admire the view. The half-moon is high above the bay, illuminating a bright silvery path across the water. Seattle is lit up and twinkling as a backdrop.

We walk, hand in hand, toward the boathouse. It’s lit inside and out and the beckoning light is our guide.

“Christian, I’d like to go to church tomorrow,” Ana says.

“Oh?”

When was the last time I was in church? I recall her background information; I don’t remember her being religious.

“I prayed you’d come back alive and you did. It’s the least I could do.”

“Okay.” Maybe I’ll go with her.

“Where are you going to put the photos José took of me?”

“I thought we might put them in the new house.”

“You bought it?”

I stop. “Yes. I thought you liked it.”

“I do. When did you buy it?”

“Yesterday morning. Now we need to decide what to do with it.”

“Don’t knock it down. Please. It’s such a lovely house. It just needs some tender loving care.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to Elliot. He knows a good architect; she did some work on my place in Aspen. He can do the remodeling.”

Ana smiles, then chuckles with amusement.

“What?” I ask.

“I remember the last time you took me to the boathouse.”

Oh yes. I was in the moment. “Oh, that was fun. In fact—” I stop and scoop her up over my shoulder and she squeals.

“You were really angry, if I remember correctly,” Ana observes while she bounces on my shoulder.

“Anastasia, I’m always really angry.”

“No, you’re not.”

I swat her behind and slide her down my body when I get to the door of the boathouse. I take her head in my hands. “No, not anymore.” My lips and tongue find hers and I pour all the anxiety that I’m feeling into a passionate kiss. She’s breathless and panting when I release her.

Okay. I hope she likes what I have planned. I hope it’s what she wants. She deserves the world. She looks a little intrigued and caresses my face, running her fingers along my cheek, to my jaw and chin. Her index finger pauses over my lips.

Showtime, Grey.

“I’ve something to show you in here.” I open the door. “Come.” I take her hand and lead her to the top of the stairs. Opening the door, I glance inside, and it all looks good. I step aside to let Ana go first, and I follow her into the room.

She gasps at the sight that greets her.

The florists have gone to town. There are wild meadow flowers everywhere, in pinks and whites and blues, all lit by tiny fairy lights and soft pink lanterns.

Yes. This will do.

Ana is stunned. She whips around and gapes at me.

“You wanted hearts and flowers.”

She stares at me in disbelief.

“You have my heart.” And I wave at the room.

“And here are the flowers,” she murmurs. “Christian, it’s lovely.” Her voice is hoarse and I know she’s close to tears.

Plucking up my courage, I lead her farther into the room. In the center of the arbor, I sink onto one knee. Ana catches her breath, and her hands fly to her mouth. From my inside jacket pocket, I pull out the ring and hold it up for her.

“Anastasia Steele. I love you. I want to love, cherish, and protect you for the rest of my life. Be mine. Always. Share my life with me. Marry me.”

She is the love of my life.

It will only ever be Ana.

Her tears start to fall in earnest but her smile eclipses the moon, the stars, the sun, and all the flowers in this boathouse.

“Yes,” she says.

Taking her hand, I slip the ring on her finger; it fits perfectly.

She looks down at it in wonder. “Oh, Christian,” she sobs, her legs buckle and she falls into my arms. She kisses me, offering me everything, her lips, her tongue, her compassion, her love. Her body is pressed to mine. Giving, like she always does.

Sweet, sweet Ana.

I kiss her back. Taking what she has to offer, and giving in return. She’s taught me how.

This woman who has dragged me into the light. This woman who loves me in spite of my past, in spite of my wrongdoings. This woman who’s agreed to be mine for the rest of her life.

My girl. My Ana. My love.