GRACE

Darling, it was so lovely to see you and Anastasia last night.

As ever, thank you, and Ana, for your generosity.

Mom X

I’m still smarting over her gold-digger comments. It’s obvious she doesn’t know Ana well. But then, she’s only met Ana three times. It was Elliot who was always bringing girls around…not me. Grace couldn’t keep up.

“Elliot, darling, we get attached to them and then they’re history. It’s heartbreaking.”

“Don’t get attached.” He shrugs, chewing with his mouth open. “I don’t,” he mutters so only I can hear him.

“One day someone will break your heart, Elliot,” Grace says as she hands Mia a plate of mac and cheese.

“Whatever, Mom. At least I bring girls home.” He eyes me with disdain.

“Lots of my friends want to marry Christian. Ask them,” Mia pipes up in my defense.

Ugh. What an unpleasant thought—her poisonous little eighth-grade friends.

“Don’t you have exams to study for, douchebag?” I give Elliot the finger.

“Study. Not me, dickless. I’m out tonight,” he brags.

“Boys! Enough! This is your first night home from college. You haven’t seen each other in ages. Stop arguing. Eat up.”

I take a bite of mac and cheese. Tonight I get to see Mrs. Lincoln…

It’s 9:40 so I order breakfast for Ana and me, knowing it will take at least twenty minutes. I turn back to my e-mails and decide to ignore my mother’s text for now.

Room service arrives just after ten. I ask the young man to keep everything in the cart’s warming drawers and, after he’s set the table, I dismiss him.

Time to wake Ana.

She’s still fast asleep. Her hair is a mess of mahogany on the pillow, her skin luminous in the light, and her face soft and sweet in repose. I lie down beside her and watch her, drinking in every detail. She blinks and opens her eyes.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She tugs the comforter up to her chin as her cheeks turn rosy. “How long have you been watching me?”

“I could watch you sleep for hours, Anastasia. But I’ve only been here about five minutes.” I kiss her temple. “Dr. Greene will be here shortly.”

“Oh.”

“Did you sleep well?” I ask. “Certainly seemed like it to me, with all that snoring.”

“I do not snore!”

I put her out of her misery, grinning. “No. You don’t.”

“Did you shower?” she asks.

“No. Waiting for you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“What time is it?”

“Ten fifteen. I didn’t have the heart to wake you earlier.”

“You told me you didn’t have a heart at all.”

That at least is true. But I ignore her comment.

“Breakfast is here. Pancakes and bacon for you. Come, get up, I’m getting lonely out here.” I swat her behind, clamber off the bed, and leave her to get up.

In the dining room I remove the dishes from the cart and lay out the plates. I sit down and within moments my toast and scrambled eggs are history. I pour myself some coffee, wondering whether to hurry Ana along, but decide against it and open The Seattle Times.

She shuffles into the dining room wearing an oversized robe and sits down beside me.

“Eat up. You’re going to need your strength today,” I say.

“And why is that? You going to lock me in the bedroom?” she teases.

“Appealing as that idea is, I thought we’d go out today. Get some fresh air.” I’m excited about The Grace.

“Is it safe?” she quips.

“Where we’re going it is,” I mutter, unamused by her comment. “And it’s not a joking matter,” I add.

I want to keep you safe, baby.

Her mouth sets in that stubborn way she has and she stares down at her breakfast.

Eat, Ana.

As if she can read my mind, she grabs her fork and starts picking at her breakfast, allowing me to relax a little.

A few minutes later there’s a knock on the door. I glance at my watch.

“That’ll be the good doctor,” I say, and stroll to the door to answer it.

“Good morning, Dr. Greene, come in. Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

“Again, Mr. Grey, thank you for making it worth my while. Where’s the patient?” Dr. Greene is all business.

“She’s having her breakfast and will be ready in a minute. Do you want to wait in the bedroom?”

“That’ll be fine.”

I show her into the master, and soon after Ana wanders in and gives me a disapproving look. I choose to ignore it and close the door, leaving her with Dr. Greene. She can be as annoyed as she likes, but she stopped taking her pills. And she knows I hate condoms.

My phone buzzes.

At last.

“Good morning, Taylor.”

“Good morning, Mr. Grey. You called?”

“What news?”

“Sawyer has been through the CCTV footage from the garage and I can confirm it was Leila who vandalized the car.”

“Shit.”

“Quite, sir. I’ve updated Welch on the situation, and the Audi has been removed.”

“Good. Have you checked the apartment CCTV?”

“We’re doing that now, but we haven’t found anything yet.”

“We need to know how she got in.”

“Yes, sir. She’s not here now. We’ve done a thorough check, but I understand that until we’re certain that she can’t get in again you should stay away. I’m having all the locks changed. Even on the fire escape.”

“The fire escape. I always forget about that.”

“It’s easily done, sir.”

“I’m taking Ana to The Grace. We’ll stay on board if we need to.”

“I’d like to do a security check of The Grace before you get there,” Taylor says.

“Okay. I can’t imagine we’ll be there before one.”

“We can collect your luggage from the hotel after that.”

“Great.”

“And I’ve e-mailed Audi about a replacement vehicle.”

“Okay. Let me know how that goes.”

“Will do, sir.”

“Oh, and Taylor, in the future, we only need a one-bedroom suite.”

Taylor hesitates. “Very good, sir,” he says. “Will that be all for now?”

“No, one more thing. When Gail returns, can you ask her to move all of Miss Steele’s clothes and belongings into my room?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Thanks.”

I hang up and sit back down at the dining table to finish the newspaper. I note with displeasure that Ana has hardly touched her breakfast.

Plus ça change, Grey. Plus ça change.

HALF AN HOUR LATER Ana and Dr. Greene emerge from the bedroom. Ana looks subdued. We exchange good-byes with the doctor and I close the suite door behind her.

“Everything okay?” I ask Ana as she stands, looking sullen, in the hallway. She nods but won’t look at me. “Anastasia, what is it? What did Dr. Greene say?”

She shakes her head. “You’re good to go in seven days.”

“Seven days?”

“Yes.”

“Ana, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. Please, Christian, just leave it.”

Normally I have no idea what she’s thinking, but something is troubling her, and because it’s troubling her, it’s troubling me. Maybe Dr. Greene warned her away from me. I tilt her chin back so we’re eye to eye. “Tell me,” I persist.

“There’s nothing to tell. I’d like to get dressed.” She jerks her chin out of my hand.

Fuck. What’s wrong?

I run my hands through my hair in an effort to remain calm.

Perhaps it’s the Leila scare?

Or maybe the doctor gave her some bad news?

She gives nothing away.

“Let’s shower,” I suggest eventually. She agrees but is hardly enthusiastic. “Come.” I take her hand and move into the bathroom with a reluctant Ana trailing behind me. I turn on the shower and strip out of my clothes while she stands in the middle of the bathroom sulking.

Ana, what the hell is wrong?

“I don’t know what’s upset you, or if you’re just bad-tempered through lack of sleep,” I say quietly as I unfasten her robe. “But I want you to tell me. My imagination is running away with me, and I don’t like it.”

She rolls her eyes, but before I can rebuke her she says, “Dr. Greene scolded me about missing the pill. She said I could be pregnant.”

“What?”

Pregnant!

And I’m free-falling. Fuck.

“But I’m not,” she says. “She did a test. It was a shock, that’s all. I can’t believe I was that stupid.”

Oh, thank God.

“You’re sure you’re not?”

“Yes.”

I exhale. “Good. Yes, I can see that news like that would be very upsetting.”

“I was more worried about your reaction.”

“My reaction? Well, naturally, I’m relieved. It would be the height of carelessness and bad manners to knock you up.”

“Then maybe we should abstain,” she snaps.

What the hell?

“You are in a bad temper this morning.”

“It was just a shock, that’s all,” she says, sullen again.

I haul her into my embrace. She’s tense and stiff with indignation. I kiss her hair and hold her. “Ana, I’m not used to this,” I whisper. “My natural inclination is to beat it out of you, but I seriously doubt you want that.”

She could cry it out if I did. In my experience, women feel better after a good cry.

“No, I don’t,” she responds. “This helps.” And she puts her arms around me and hugs me tighter, her warm cheek against my chest. I rest my chin on the top of her head. We stand like this for an age and slowly she relaxes in my arms.

“Come, let’s shower.” I strip her out of her robe and she follows me into the hot water. It’s welcome. I’ve felt grimy all morning. I shampoo my hair and hand the bottle to Ana. She looks happier now, and I’m glad the showerhead is big enough for both of us. She surrenders herself to the water, tipping up her lovely face, and begins to wash her hair.

I take the body wash, lather up my hands, then begin washing Ana. Her earlier bad mood has rattled me. I feel responsible. She’s tired and she had a trying evening. As she rinses her hair, I massage and wash her shoulders, arms, underarms, back, and her beautiful breasts. Turning her around, I continue with her stomach and belly, between her legs, and her ass. She makes a noise of approval deep in her throat.

My smile is broad.

That’s better.

I turn her to face me. “Here.” I give her the body wash. “I want you to wash off the remains of the lipstick.”

Her eyes flicker open and her expression is serious and earnest.

“Don’t stray far from the line, please,” I add.

“Okay.”

She squeezes soap onto her palm and rubs her hands together to make a frothy lather. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she begins to wash away the line with a gentle circular motion. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Can I do this?

My breathing shallows, and panic wells in my throat. She continues down my side, her nimble fingers tenderly administering to me. But it’s unbearable. Like tiny razor blades on my skin. Every muscle in my body is tense. I stand like a hollow bronze, counting the seconds until she’s finished.

It’s taking an eternity.

My teeth are clenched.

Suddenly her hands are no longer on my body and that alarms me more. I open my eyes and she’s soaping her hands again. She glances up at me and I see my pain reflected in her eyes and on her sweet, anxious face. And I know it’s not pity but compassion. My agony is her agony.

Oh Ana.

“Ready?” she asks, her voice hoarse.

“Yes,” I whisper, determined not to let the fear win, and I close my eyes.

She touches my side and I freeze, as fear fills my gut, my chest, and my throat, leaving nothing but the darkness. It’s a gaping, aching void that consumes me, all of me.

Ana sniffles and I open my eyes.

She’s crying, her tears lost in the cascade of hot water, her nose pink. Her compassion is spilling down her face—her compassion and her anger as she washes away my sins.

No. Don’t cry, Ana.

I’m just a fucked-up man.

Her lip trembles.

“No. Please, don’t cry.” I fold her into my arms and hold her. “Please don’t cry for me.”

She starts sobbing. Really sobbing. And I cradle her head in my hands and lean down to kiss her. “Don’t cry, Ana, please,” I whisper against her mouth. “It was long ago. I am aching for you to touch me, but I just can’t bear it. It’s too much. Please, please don’t cry.”

“I…want to touch you, too…” she stutters between sobs. “More than you’ll ever know. To see you like this. So hurt and afraid, Christian. It wounds me deeply. I love you so much.”

I run my thumb across her bottom lip. “I know. I know.”

And she squints at me with a look of dismay, because she knows my words have no conviction.

“You’re very easy to love. Don’t you see that?” she says, as the water falls around us.

“No, baby, I don’t.”

“You are. And I do,” she stresses. “And so does your family. So do Elena and Leila. They have a strange way of showing it, but they do. You are worthy.”

“Stop.”

I can’t bear it. I put my finger over her lips and shake my head. “I can’t hear this. I’m nothing, Anastasia.” I’m a lost boy, standing before you. Unloved. Abandoned by the one person who was supposed to protect me, because I’m a monster.

That’s me, Ana.

That’s all I am.

“I’m a husk of a man. I don’t have a heart.”

“Yes, you do,” she cries passionately. “And I want it, all of it. You’re a good man, Christian, a really good man. Don’t ever doubt that. Look at what you’ve done. What you’ve achieved.” She continues to sob. “Look what you’ve done for me. What you’ve turned your back on, for me. I know. I know how you feel about me.” Her blue, blue eyes, filled with love, filled with compassion, leave me as raw and exposed as they did the first time I met her.

She sees me. She thinks she knows me.

“You love me,” she says.

Every ounce of oxygen evaporates from my lungs.

Time suspends and all I can hear is my own blood thrumming in my ears and the splash of the water as it washes the darkness away.

Answer her, Grey. Tell her the truth.

“Yes,” I whisper, “I do.”

It’s a deep, dark confession wrenched from my soul. And yet as I say the words out loud it all becomes clear. Of course I love her. Of course she knows. I’ve loved her since I met her. Since I watched her sleep. Since she gave herself to me and only me. I’m addicted. I can’t get enough. That’s why I tolerate her attitude.

I’m in love. This is what it feels like.

Her reaction is instant. Her smile is dazzling, lighting up her beautiful face. She’s breathtaking. She clasps my head, bringing my mouth to hers, and kisses me, pouring all her love and sweetness into me.

It’s humbling.

It’s overwhelming.

It’s hot.

And my body responds. The only way it knows how.

Groaning against her lips, I encircle her with my arms. “Oh, Ana, I want you, but not here.”

“Yes,” she says feverishly against my mouth.

I switch off the water and lead her out of the shower. I wrap her in her bathrobe and secure a towel around my waist. Taking a smaller one, I begin to dry her hair.

This is what I love. Taking care of her.

And what’s more, for a change, she’s letting me.

She stands patiently while I squeeze the water from her hair and rub her head. When I look up she’s watching me in the mirror above the sink. Our eyes meet and I’m lost in her loving look.

“Can I reciprocate?” she asks.

What does she have in mind?

I nod and Ana reaches for another towel. Standing on tiptoe, she wraps it around my head and starts to rub. I lower my head, giving her easier access.

Mmm. This feels good.

She uses her nails, rubbing hard.

Oh, man.

I grin like a fool, feeling…cherished. When I raise my head to look at her she’s peeking at me through the towel, and she grins, too. “It’s a long time since anyone did this to me. A very long time,” I tell her. “In fact, I don’t think anyone’s ever dried my hair.”

“Surely Grace did? Dried your hair when you were young?”

I shake my head. “No. She respected my boundaries from day one, even though it was painful for her. I was very self-sufficient as a child.”

Ana stills for a moment and I wonder what she’s thinking. “Well, I’m honored,” she says.

“That you are, Miss Steele. Or maybe it is I who am honored.”

“That goes without saying, Mr. Grey.”

She tosses the damp towel onto the vanity unit in front of us and reaches for a new one. As she stands behind me our eyes meet once more in the large mirror.

“Can I try something?” she asks.

We’re doing this your way, baby.

I nod, giving her permission, and she runs the towel down my left arm, removing all the drops of water that cling to my skin. She looks up, watching me intently, and leans forward, and kisses my biceps.

My breathing stalls.

She dries my other arm and leaves a trail of feather-light kisses over my right biceps. Dodging behind me so I can no longer see what she’s doing. She wipes my back, respecting the lipstick lines.

“Whole back,” I offer, feeling brave, “with the towel.” I take a deep breath and shut my eyes.

Ana does as she’s told and briskly dries my back. When she finishes she gives me a swift kiss on my shoulder.

I exhale. That wasn’t so bad.

She puts her arms around me and dries my belly.

“Hold this,” she says, and hands me a face towel. “Remember in Georgia? You made me touch myself using your hands,” she explains. She wraps her arms around me and stares at me in the mirror. With the towel draped over her head, she looks like a biblical character.

The Virgin.

She’s soft enough and sweet enough, but a virgin no more.

Grasping my hand that holds the face towel, she guides it across my chest, drying a spot. As soon as the towel touches me, I freeze. My mind empties and I will my body to endure this touch. I stand tense before her, unmoving. We’re doing this her way. I start to pant with a strange mixture of fear, love, and fascination, and my eyes follow her fingers as she gently guides my hand, and wipes my chest dry.

“I think you’re dry now,” she says, and drops her hand.

In the mirror’s reflection we fix our eyes on each other.

I want her. I need her. I tell her.

“I need you, too,” she says, her eyes darkening.

“Let me love you.”

“Yes,” she replies, and I scoop her up in my arms, my lips on hers, and carry her into the bedroom. I lay her down on the bed, and with infinite care and tenderness I show her how much I honor her, cherish her, and treasure her.

And love her.

I AM A NEW being. A new Christian Grey. I am in love with Anastasia Steele, and what’s more, she loves me. Of course, the girl needs to have her head examined, but right now I’m grateful, spent, and happy.

I lie beside her, imagining a world of possibility. Ana’s skin is soft and warm. I cannot stop touching her while we gaze at each other in the calm after the storm.

“So, you can be gentle.” Her eyes are alight with amusement.

Only with you.

“Hmm. So it would seem, Miss Steele.”

She grins, showing perfect white teeth. “You weren’t particularly the first time we, um, did this.”

“No?” I take a strand of her hair and wind it around my index finger. “When I robbed you of your virtue.”

“I don’t think you robbed me. I think my virtue was offered up pretty freely and willingly. I wanted you, too, and if I remember correctly, I rather enjoyed myself.” Her smile is shy but warm.

“So did I, if I recall, Miss Steele. We aim to please. And it means you’re mine, completely.”

“Yes, I am. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Your biological father, do you know who he was?”

Her question is completely unexpected. I shake my head. She surprises me again. I never know what’s going on in that smart brain of hers. “I have no idea. Wasn’t the savage who was her pimp, which is good.”

“How do you know?”

“Something my dad—something Carrick said to me.”

Her look is expectant, urging me on. “So hungry for information, Anastasia.” I sigh and shake my head. I don’t like thinking about this time in my life. It’s difficult to separate the memories from the nightmares. But she’s persistent. “The pimp discovered the crack whore’s body and phoned it in to the authorities. Took him four days to make the discovery, though. He shut the door when he left. Left me with her. Her body.”

Mommy is asleep on the floor.

She has been asleep for a long time.

She doesn’t wake up.

I call her. I shake her.

She doesn’t wake up.

I shudder and continue. “Police interviewed him later. He denied flat-out I had anything to do with him, and Carrick said he looked nothing like me.”

Thank God.

“Do you remember what he looked like?”

“Anastasia, this isn’t a part of my life I revisit very often. Yes, I remember what he looked like. I’ll never forget him.” Bile rises in my throat. “Can we talk about something else?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s old news, Ana. Not something I want to think about.”

She looks guilty and, knowing she’s gone too far with these questions, changes the subject. “So, what’s this surprise, then?”

Ah. She remembered. Now, this I can deal with. “Can you face going out for some fresh air? I want to show you something.”

“Of course.”

Great! I swat her behind. “Get dressed. Jeans will be good. I hope Taylor’s packed some for you.”

I leap out of bed, excited to take Ana sailing, and she watches me pull on my underwear.

“Up,” I nag, and she grins.

“Just admiring the view,” she says.

“Dry your hair,” I tell her.

“Domineering as ever,” she observes, and I bend down to kiss her.

“That’s never going to change, baby. I don’t want you sick.”

She rolls her eyes.

“My palms still twitch, you know, Miss Steele.”

“I am glad to hear it, Mr. Grey. I was beginning to think you were losing your edge.”

Oh. Mixed signals from Miss Steele.

Don’t tempt me, Ana. “I could easily demonstrate that is not the case, should you so wish.” I grab a sweater from my bag, fetch my phone, and pack the rest of my belongings.

Once I’m done, I find Ana dressed and drying her hair.

“Pack your things. If it’s safe, we’ll go home tonight; if not, we can stay again.”

ANA AND I STEP into the elevator. An elderly couple moves aside for us. Ana looks up at me and smirks. I squeeze her hand and grin, remembering that kiss.

Oh, fuck the paperwork.

“I’ll never let you forget that,” she says so only I can hear. “Our first kiss.”

I’m tempted to do a repeat performance and scandalize the elderly couple, but I settle for a discreet peck on her cheek that makes her giggle.

We check out at reception and walk hand in hand through the foyer to the valet.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Ana asks as we wait for my car.

I tap the side of my nose and wink, trying to hide my excitement. Her face lights up with a huge smile, matching mine. Leaning down, I kiss her. “Do you have any idea how happy you make me feel?”

“Yes. I know exactly. Because you do the same for me.”

The valet appears with my R8.

“Great car, sir,” he says, as he gives me my keys. I tip him and he opens Ana’s door.

As I turn onto Fourth Avenue, the sun is shining, my girl is beside me, and there’s good music playing on my car stereo.

I overtake an Audi A3 and suddenly remember Ana’s wrecked car. I realize I’ve not thought about Leila and her crazy behavior for the last few hours. Ana’s a good distraction.

She’s more than a distraction, Grey.

Perhaps I should buy her something else.

Yes. Something different. Not an Audi.

A Volvo.

No. My dad has one.

A BMW.

No. My mom has one.

“I need to make a detour. It shouldn’t take long,” I inform her.

“Sure.”

We pull into the Saab dealership. Ana looks perplexed. “We need to get you a new car,” I say.

“Not an Audi?”

No. I’m not getting you the car I’ve bought all my subs. “I thought you might like something else.”

“A Saab?” She’s amused.

“Yeah. A 9-3. Come.”

“What is it with you and foreign cars?”

“The Germans and the Swedes make the safest cars in the world, Anastasia.”

“I thought you’d already ordered me another Audi A3?”

“I can cancel that. Come.” I climb out of the car, walk to her side, and open the door. “I owe you a graduation present.”

“Christian, you really don’t have to do this.”

I make it clear to her that I do and we stroll into the car showroom where a salesman greets us with a well-rehearsed smile. “My name’s Troy Turniansky. Are you after a Saab, sir? Pre-owned?” He rubs his hands, sensing a sale.

“New,” I inform him.

“Did you have a model in mind, sir?”

“9-3 2.0T Sport Sedan.”

Ana shoots a questioning look at me.

Yeah. I’ve been meaning to test drive one of these.

“An excellent choice, sir.”

“What color, Anastasia?” I ask.

“Er, black?” she says with a shrug. “You really don’t need to do this.”

“Black’s not easily seen at night.”

“You have a black car.”

This is not about me. I give her a pointed look.

“Canary yellow, then,” she says, and flips her hair over her shoulder—irritated, I think.

I scowl at her.

“What color do you want me to have?” She crosses her arms.

“Silver or white.”

“Silver, then,” she says, but reiterates that she’d be fine with the Audi.

Now, sensing the loss of a sale, Turniansky pipes up. “Perhaps you’d like the convertible, ma’am?”

Ana lights up and Turniansky claps his hands.

“Convertible?” I ask, raising a brow. And her cheeks redden with embarrassment.

Miss Steele would like a convertible, and I’m beyond pleased that I’ve found something she wants. “What are the safety stats on the convertible?” I ask the salesman, and he’s prepared, reeling off a brochure’s worth of stats and other information. I glance at Ana, and she’s all smiles and teeth. Turniansky hurries to his desk to consult his computer on the availability of a brand-new convertible 9-3.

“Whatever you’re high on, I’d like some, Miss Steele.” I pull her close.

“I’m high on you, Mr. Grey.”

“Really? Well, you certainly look intoxicated.” I kiss her. “And thank you for accepting the car. That was easier than last time.”

“Well, it’s not an Audi A3.”

“That’s not the car for you.”

“I liked it.”

“Sir, the 9-3? I’ve located one at our Beverly Hills dealership. We can have it here for you in a couple of days.” Turniansky is bursting at the seams with his achievement.

“Top of the range?” I ask.

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent.” I hand him my credit card.

“If you’ll come this way, Mr….” Turniansky glances at the name on the card. “Grey.” I follow him to his desk.

“Can you get it here tomorrow?”

“I can try, Mr. Grey.” He nods and we begin to fill out the paperwork.

“THANK YOU,” ANA SAYS as we set off.

“You’re most welcome, Anastasia.”

The soulful, sad voice of Eva Cassidy fills the R8 when I turn on the engine.

“Who’s this?” Ana asks, and I tell her.

“She has a lovely voice.”

“She does. She did.”

“Oh.”

“She died young.” Too young.

“Oh.” Ana gives me a wistful look.

I remember that she didn’t finish her breakfast earlier and I ask her if she’s hungry.

I’m keeping track, Ana.

“Yes.”

“Lunch first, then.”

I speed along Elliott Avenue, heading to Elliott Bay Marina. Flynn was right. I like trying things her way. I look at Ana, who’s lost in the music, staring out at the passing scenery. I feel content and excited for what I have planned this afternoon.

The car lot is crowded at the marina, but I find a space. “We’ll eat here. I’ll open your door,” I say, as Ana makes a move to get out of the car. Together we walk toward the waterfront, arms around each other.

“So many boats,” she says.

And one of them is mine.

We stand on the promenade and watch the sailboats out in the Sound. Ana tugs her jacket around herself.

“Cold?” I tuck her under my arm, closer to my side.

“No, just admiring the view.”

“I could stare at it all day. Come, this way.”

We head into SP’s, the waterfront restaurant and bar, for lunch. Inside, I search for Dante, Claude Bastille’s brother.

“Mr. Grey!” He sees me before I see him. “What can I get you this afternoon?”

“Dante, good afternoon.” I usher Ana onto one of the stools at the bar. “This lovely lady is Anastasia Steele.”

“Welcome to SP’s Place.” Dante grins at Ana, his dark eyes intrigued. “What would you like to drink, Anastasia?”

“Please, call me Ana,” she says, then, eyeing me, adds, “and I’ll have whatever Christian’s drinking.”

Ana is deferring to me, like she did at the ball. I like it.

“I’m going to have a beer. This is the only bar in Seattle where you can get Adnams Explorer.”

“A beer?”

“Yes. Two Explorers, please, Dante.”

Dante nods and sets up the drinks on the bar and I tell Ana that the seafood chowder that’s served here is delicious. Dante writes down our food order and gives me a wink.

Yes, I’m here with a woman I’m not related to. It’s a first, I know.

I turn my attention to Ana. “How did you get started in business?” she asks, and takes a sip of her beer.

I give her the executive summary: With Elena’s money and some shrewd but risky investments I was able to build a capital fund. The first company I acquired was about to go under; it had been developing power units for cell phones using graphene technology, but the R&D had exhausted the company’s capital. The patents they held were worth exploiting, and I kept their key talent, Fred and Barney, who are now my two chief engineers.

I tell Ana about our work on solar and wind-up technology for the home market and the developing world, and our innovative research to develop battery storage. All critical initiatives, given the depletion of fossil fuels.

“You still with me?” I ask when our chowder arrives. I love that she’s interested in what I do. Even my parents struggle not to glaze over when I tell them about my work.

“I’m fascinated,” she says. “Everything about you fascinates me, Christian.”

Her words are encouraging, so I continue my story, of how I bought and sold more companies, keeping those that shared my ethos, breaking up and selling the others.

“Mergers and acquisitions,” she muses.

“The very same. I moved into shipping two years ago, and from there into improving food production. Our test sites in Africa are pioneering new agricultural techniques for higher crop yields.”

“Feed the world,” Ana teases me.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“You’re very philanthropic.”

“I can afford to be.”

“This is delicious,” Ana says, as she takes another spoonful of chowder.

“One of my favorites,” I respond.

“You told me you like sailing.” Ana motions to the boats outside.

“Yes. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid. Elliot and I learned to sail at the sail school here. Do you sail?”

“No.”

“So what does a young woman from Montesano do to keep herself amused?” I take a sip of my beer.

“Read.”

“It always comes back to books with you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“What happened between Ray and your mom?”

“I think they drifted apart. My mom is such a romantic, and Ray, well, he’s more practical. She’d been in Washington all her life. She wanted adventure.”

“Did she find any?”

“She found Steve.” Her expression darkens, as if the mention of his name leaves a nasty taste in her mouth. “But she never talks about him.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. I don’t think that was a happy time for her. I wondered if she regretted leaving Ray after that.”

“And you stayed with him.”

“Yes. He needed me more than my mom did.”

We talk freely and easily. Ana is a good listener and much more forthcoming about herself this time. Perhaps it’s because she now knows that I love her.

I love Ana.

There. That’s not so painful, is it, Grey?

She’s explaining how much she disliked living in Texas and Vegas because of the heat. She prefers the cooler climate in Washington.

I hope she stays in Washington.

Yes. With me.

Like moving in?

Grey, you’re getting way ahead of yourself here.

Take her sailing.

I glance at my watch and drain my beer. “Shall we go?”

We settle up for lunch and we head outside into the mild summer sunshine. “I wanted to show you something.”

Holding hands, we amble past the smaller boats anchored in the marina. I spot The Grace’s mast towering above the smaller boats as we near her mooring. My anticipation escalates. I haven’t been sailing for a while, and now I get to take my girl. Leaving the main promenade, we step onto the dock, then down onto a narrower pontoon. At The Grace, I stop. “I thought we’d go sailing this afternoon. This is my boat.”

My catamaran. My pride and joy.

Ana’s impressed.

“Built by my company. She’s been designed from the ground up by the very best naval architects in the world and constructed here in Seattle at my yard. She has hybrid electric drives, asymmetric dagger boards, a square-topped mainsail—”

“Okay!” Ana says, holding up her hands. “You’ve lost me, Christian.”

Don’t get carried away, Grey.

“She’s a great boat.” I can’t conceal my admiration.

“She looks mighty fine, Mr. Grey.”

“That she does, Miss Steele.”

“What’s her name?”

I take her hand and show her “The Grace” written in an elaborate scroll on the side. “You named her after your mom?” Ana sounds surprised.

“Yes. Why do you find that strange?”

She shrugs, at a loss for words.

“I adore my mom, Anastasia. Why wouldn’t I name a boat after her?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just—”

“Anastasia, Grace Trevelyan-Grey saved my life. I owe her everything.”

Her smile is uncertain, and I wonder what’s going through her head, and what I might have done to make her think I don’t love my mother.

Okay, so I once told Ana I didn’t have a heart—but there’s always been room for my family in what’s left of it. Even Elliot.

I didn’t know there was space for anyone else.

But there’s an Ana-shaped space.

And she’s filled it to overflowing.

I swallow as I try to contain the depth of feeling I have for her. She’s bringing my heart back to life, bringing me back to life.

“Do you want to come aboard?” I ask, before I say something sappy.

“Yes, please.”

Taking my hand, she follows me as I stride up the gangplank onto the aft deck. Mac appears, startling Ana when he opens the sliding doors to the main saloon.

“Mr. Grey! Welcome back.” We shake hands.

“Anastasia, this is Liam McConnell. Liam, my girlfriend, Anastasia Steele.”

“How do you do?” she says to Liam.

“Call me Mac. Welcome aboard, Miss Steele.”

“Ana, please.”

“How’s she shaping up, Mac?” I ask.

“She’s ready to rock and roll, sir,” he says with a huge grin.

“Let’s get under way, then.”

“You going to take her out?” he asks.

“Yep,” I reply. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. “Quick tour, Anastasia?”

We go through the sliding doors. Ana scans the inside, and I know she’s impressed. The interior has been created by a Swedish designer based in Seattle, all clean lines and light oak that give the saloon a bright and airy feel. I’ve adopted the same look throughout The Grace. “This is the main saloon. Galley beside.” I wave in its direction. “Bathrooms on either side.” I point them out, then lead her through the small door to my cabin. Ana gasps at the sight of the bed. “This is the master cabin. You’re the first girl in here, apart from family.” I hold her and kiss her. “They don’t count. Might have to christen this bed,” I whisper against her lips. “But not right now. Come, Mac will be casting off.” I lead Ana back into the main saloon. “Office in there, and at the front here, two more cabins.”

“So how many can sleep on board?”

“It’s a six-berth cat. I’ve only ever had the family on board, though. I like to sail alone. But not when you’re here. I need to keep an eye on you.” From the chest by the sliding door I extract a bright red life jacket.

“Here.” I slip it over her head and tighten the straps.

“You love strapping me in, don’t you?”

“In any form.” I wink at her.

“You are a pervert.”

“I know.”

“My pervert,” she teases.

“Yes, yours.”

Once I’ve fastened the buckles I grab the side of the life jacket and kiss her quickly. “Always,” I say, and release her before she can respond. “Come.” We go outside and up the steps to the top deck and the cockpit.

Below, at the dock, Mac is casting off the bow line. He leaps back on board.

“Is this where you learned all your rope tricks?” Ana is pretending to be naïve.

“Clove hitches have come in handy. Miss Steele, you sound curious. I like you curious. I’d be more than happy to demonstrate what I can do with a rope.”

Ana goes quiet, and I think I’ve upset her.

Damn.

“Gotcha.” She giggles, pleased with herself.

Well, that’s not fair. I narrow my eyes. “I may have to deal with you later, but right now I’ve got to drive my boat.” I sit down at the captain’s chair and fire up the twin fifty-five-horsepower engines. I switch off the blower and Mac scoots along the top deck, grabbing the guardrail, then bounces down to the aft deck to release the stern lines. He waves at me and I radio the Coast Guard to get the all-clear.

I take The Grace out of idle, move the shifter forward, and ease the throttle. And my beautiful boat glides out of her berth.

Ana is waving to the small crowd that has gathered on the dock to witness our departure. I tug her back between my legs.

“See this.” I point to the VHF. “That’s our radio. Our GPS, our AIS, the radar.”

“What’s the AIS?”

“That identifies us to shipping. This is our depth gauge. Grab the wheel.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” She salutes me.

I pilot us slowly out of the marina, Ana’s hands beneath mine on the wheel. We turn into open water and we sweep across the Sound in a large arc until we’re heading northwest toward the Olympic Peninsula and Bainbridge Island. The wind is moderate at fifteen knots, but I know once we get the sheets up The Grace will fly. I love this. Challenging myself against the elements in a boat I’ve helped design, using the skills I’ve spent a lifetime perfecting. It’s thrilling.

“Sail time,” I say to Ana, and I cannot contain my excitement. “Here, you take her. Keep her on this course.”

Ana looks freaked out.

“Baby, it’s really easy. Hold the wheel and keep your eye on the horizon over the bow. You’ll do great; you always do. When the sails go up, you’ll feel the drag. Just hold her steady. I’ll signal like this”—I make a slashing motion with my hand across my throat—“and you can cut the engines. This button here.” I point to the engines’ kill button. “Understand?”

“Yes.” But she looks uncertain. I know she’s got this. She always does. I give her a quick kiss and bound onto the top deck to prep and hoist the main sail. Mac and I crank in unison, making light work of it. When the wind catches the sheet we lurch forward, and I glance at Ana, but she’s holding us steady. Mac and I work on the headsail and it flies up the mast, welcoming the wind and harnessing its power.

“Hold her steady, baby, and cut the engines!” I shout over the roar of the wind and the waves, and I motion to her. Ana presses the button and the roar of the engines ceases as we whip across the sea, flying northwest.

I join Ana at the wheel. The wind is lashing her hair around her face; she’s exhilarated, her cheeks flushed with joy. “What do you think?” I yell, above the call of the sea and the wind.

“Christian! This is fantastic.”

“You wait until the spinney’s up.” With my chin I point to Mac, who is raising the spinnaker.

“Interesting color,” Ana shouts.

I give her a knowing wink. Yep, the color of my playroom.

The wind pumps up the spinney and The Grace charges ahead, unleashing her power and giving us a thrilling ride. Ana looks from the spinnaker to me. “Asymmetrical sail. For speed,” I call out. I’ve pushed The Grace to twenty knots, but the wind has to be in our favor for that kind of speed.

“It’s amazing!” she shouts. “How fast are we going?”

“She’s doing fifteen knots.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It’s about seventeen miles an hour.”

“Is that all? It feels much faster.”

Ana is radiant. Her joy is infectious. I squeeze her hands on the wheel. “You look lovely, Anastasia. It’s good to see some color in your cheeks, and not from blushing. You look like you do in José’s photos.”

She turns in my arms and kisses me. “You know how to show a girl a good time, Mr. Grey.”

“We aim to please, Miss Steele.” She turns back to face the bow and I smooth the hair away from her neck and kiss her. “I like seeing you happy,” I murmur in her ear, and we careen across Puget Sound.

WE ANCHOR IN THE cove near Hedley Spit on Bainbridge Island. Together, Mac and I lower the dinghy so he can go ashore and visit a friend in Point Monroe. “I’ll see you in about an hour, Mr. Grey.” He descends into the small boat, gives Ana a wave, and fires up the outboard motor.

I vault up to the aft deck where Ana is standing and grab her hand. I don’t need to watch Mac speed toward the lagoon; I have more pressing business to attend to.

“What are we going to do now?” Ana asks, as I take her into the saloon.

“I have plans for you, Miss Steele.” And with indecent haste, I drag her into my cabin. She’s smiling as I make quick work of her life jacket and toss it to the floor. Once it’s off, she stares at me, remaining mute, but her teeth tease her bottom lip, and I don’t know if it’s deliberate or an unconscious lure.

I want to make love to her.

On my boat.

It will be another first.

Caressing her face with the tips of my fingers, I slowly move them down to her chin, her neck, and her sternum to the first closed button on her blouse. Her eyes never waver from mine. “I want to see you.” With my thumb and forefinger, I undo the button. She stands absolutely still, her breathing accelerated.

I know she’s mine to do with as I please. My girl.

I stand back to give her some room. “Strip for me,” I whisper. Her lips part and her eyes blaze with desire. Slowly she brings her fingers up to her next fastened button, and at a snail’s pace undoes it, then moves at the same infuriating pace to the next one.

Fuck.

She’s taunting me. Minx.

When the final button is undone she pulls her shirt apart and shrugs out of it, letting it fall to the floor.

She’s wearing a white lacy bra, her nipples taut against the lace, and she’s a fine, fine sight. Her fingers run down past her navel and toy with the top button of her jeans.

Sweetheart, you need to take your shoes off.

“Stop. Sit.” I point to the edge of the bed and she complies.

I fall to my knees and undo the laces of first one and then the other sneaker, pulling them off, followed by her socks.

I pick up her foot and kiss the soft pad of her big toe, then graze it with my teeth.

“Ah,” she breathes, and the sound is music to my dick.

Let her do this her way, Grey.

Standing, I hold out my hand and pull her up from the bed. “Continue.” I give her the floor and step back to enjoy the show.

With a wanton look at me, she undoes the button and tugs down her zipper at the same slow pace. She hooks her thumbs into her waistband and slowly shimmies out of her jeans, sliding them down her legs.

She’s wearing a thong.

A thong.

Wow.

She unfastens her bra and slides the straps down her arms before dropping it on the floor.

I want to touch her.

And I clench my fists to stop myself.

She slips off her thong and lets it fall to her ankles, where she steps out of it and stands before me.

She is all woman.

And I want her.

All of her.

Her body, her heart, and her soul.

You have her heart, Grey. She loves you.

I grab the hem of my sweater and pull it over my head, then my T-shirt. I slip out of my shoes and socks. Her eyes never leave mine.

Her look is scorching.

I move to undo my jeans. She puts her hand over mine. “Let me,” she whispers.

I’m impatient to get out of my jeans, but I give her a big smile. “Be my guest.”

She steps forward and slips her hand over the waistband of my jeans and tugs so I’m forced to take a step closer to her. She undoes the top button, but she doesn’t undo the zipper. Instead, her intrepid fingers meander from the zipper to trace the straining outline of my cock. Instinctively, I flex my hips, pushing my erection into her hand. “You’re getting so bold, Ana, so brave.” I cradle her face with my hands and kiss her, easing my tongue into her mouth while she places her hands on my hips and circles her thumbs against my skin, just above the waistband of my jeans.

“So are you,” she breathes against my lips.

“Getting there,” I answer.

She tugs down my fly, pushes her hand inside my pants, and takes hold of my cock. I growl in appreciation and my lips find hers as I fold her in my arms, feeling her soft skin against mine.

The darkness is gone.

She knows where to touch me.

And how to touch me.

Her hand tightens around me, squeezing hard, and her hand moves up and down, pleasuring me. I tolerate a few moves, then whisper, “Oh, I want you so much, baby.” I step back and remove my pants and underwear and stand before her naked, ready.

Her eyes scan my body, but as she does that v appears between her brows.

“What’s wrong, Ana?” I ask, and gently stroke her cheek. Is she reacting to my scars?

“Nothing. Love me, now,” she says.

Embracing her, I kiss her with fervor, my fingers tangling in her hair. I’ll never get enough of her mouth. Her lips. Her tongue. I walk her backward and gently lower both of us onto the bed. Lying by her side, I run my nose along her jawline, inhaling deeply.

Orchards. Apples. Summer and a mellow fall.

She’s all of those things.

“Do you have any idea how exquisite your scent is, Ana? It’s irresistible.” With my lips, I trace a line down her throat, across her breasts, kissing her as I go, breathing in her essence as I travel down her body.

“You are so beautiful.” I suck gently on a nipple.

She moans and her body bows off the bed.

The sound makes me harder. “Let me hear you, baby.” I cup her breast, then move to her waist, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin under my fingers. I move past her hip, her ass, down to her knee while I kiss and suckle her breasts. Holding her knee, I hitch up her leg and curl it over my hips.

She gasps, and I revel in her reaction.

Rolling over, I take her with me so she’s on top of me. I hand her a condom from the side table.

Her delight is clear and she scoots down so that she’s sitting on my thighs. She grabs my erection and leans down and kisses the tip. Her hair falls, forming a curtain around my cock as she takes me into her mouth.

Fuck. It’s erotic.

She consumes me, sucking hard, skimming her teeth over me.

I groan and flex my hips so I’m deeper in her mouth.

She lets me go, tears open the foil packet, and unrolls the condom on my rigid dick. I hold out my hands to help her balance, and she takes them both, and slowly, oh-so-slowly, sinks down on me.

Oh, God.

It’s so good.

I close my eyes and tip my head back as she takes me. And I give myself over to her.

She moans and I place my hands on her hips and move her up and then down as I push up, consuming her. “Oh, baby,” I whisper, and I want more. So much more.

I sit up so we’re nose to nose and I’m cradling her ass with my thighs, and I’m buried deep inside her. She gasps and grabs my arms as I hold her head and stare into her beautiful eyes, eyes that shine with her love and desire.

“Oh, Ana. What you make me feel,” I say, and kiss her with unbridled passion.

“Oh, I love you,” she says, and I close my eyes.

Ana loves me.

I roll her over, her legs locked around my waist, and look down at her in wonder.

I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know.

Slowly, tenderly, gently, I start to move, relishing every treasured inch of her.

This is me, Ana.

All of me.

And I love you.

I place my arm around her head, cocooning her in my embrace while she touches my arms, my hair, and my ass with her fingers. I kiss her mouth, her chin, her jaw. I push her higher and higher until she’s on the brink. Her body starts to tremble. She’s panting, she’s ready.

“That’s right, baby. Give it up for me. Please. Ana.”

“Christian!” she cries out as she comes around me, and I let go.

THE AFTERNOON SUN FILTERS through the portholes, casting watery reflections over the cabin ceiling. It’s so peaceful out here on the water. Maybe we could sail around the world, just Ana and me.

She dozes beside me.

My beautiful, passionate girl.

Ana.

I remember thinking those three letters had the power to wound, but now I know they also have the power to heal.

She doesn’t know the real you.

I frown at the ceiling. This thought keeps plaguing me. Why?

It’s because I want to be honest with her. Flynn thinks I should trust her and tell her, but I don’t have the nerve.

She’ll leave.

No. I banish the thought and enjoy lying with her for a few more minutes. “Mac will be back soon.” I’m sorry to have broken the peaceful silence between us.

“Hmm,” she mumbles, but her eyes open and she smiles.

“As much as I’d like to lie here with you all afternoon, he’ll need a hand with the dinghy.” I kiss her lips. “Ana, you look so beautiful right now, all mussed up and sexy. Makes me want you more.”

She strokes my face.

She sees me.

No. Ana, you don’t know me.

Reluctantly, I clamber out of bed, and she turns and lies on her stomach.

“You ain’t so bad yourself, Captain,” she says with appreciation as I dress.

I sit down beside her to put on my shoes.

“Captain, eh?” I muse. “Well, I am master of this vessel.”

“You are master of my heart, Mr. Grey.”

I wanted to be your master in a different way, but this is good. I think I can do this. I kiss her. “I’ll be on deck. There’s a shower in the bathroom if you want one. Do you need anything? A drink?”

She’s amused, and I know it’s at my expense.

“What?” I ask.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Christian?”

“He’s not very far away, baby,” I answer, and anxiety knots like ivy around my heart. “You’ll see him soon enough, especially if you don’t get up.” I smack her ass so that she laughs and yelps at once.

“You had me worried.” She feigns concern.

“Did I, now? You do give off some mixed signals, Anastasia. How’s a man supposed to keep up?” I give her a swift kiss. “Laters, baby.” I leave her to get dressed.

Mac arrives five minutes later, and together we get the dinghy fastened onto its rig at the stern.

“How was your friend?” I ask.

“In good spirits.”

“You could have stayed longer,” I say.

“And miss the trip back?”

“Yes.”

“Nah, I can’t stay away from this lady too long,” Mac says, and he pats the hull of The Grace.

I grin. “I get it.”

My phone buzzes.

“Taylor,” I answer, and Ana opens the sliding doors to the saloon. She’s holding her life jacket.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Grey. The apartment is clear,” Taylor says.

I pull Ana close and kiss her hair. “That’s great news.”

“We’ve been through every room.”

“Good.”

“We’ve also been through all the CCTV footage of the last three days.”

“Yes.”

“It’s been illuminating.”

“Really?”

“Miss Williams was coming through the stairwell.”

“The fire-escape stairwell?”

“Yes. She had a key and climbed all those floors to get there.”

“I see.” Wow, that’s some climb.

“The locks have been changed and it’s safe for you to return. We have your luggage. Will you be coming back this evening?”

“Yes.”

“When can we expect you?”

“Tonight.”

“Very good, sir.”

I hang up and Mac fires up the engines.

“Time to head back.” I give Ana a swift kiss and strap her into her life jacket.

ANA IS A KEEN and willing deckhand. Between us, we hoist and stow the mainsail, the headsheet, and the spinney while Mac steers. I teach her how to tie three knots. This she’s not so good at, and I find it hard to keep a straight face.

“I may tie you up one day,” she promises.

“You’ll have to catch me first, Miss Steele.” It’s a long time since anyone tied me up, and I’m not sure I’d like it anymore. I shudder, thinking how defenseless I’d be against her touch. “Shall I give you a more thorough tour of The Grace?”

“Please, she’s so beautiful.”

ANA STANDS IN MY arms at the wheel, just before we make the turn into the marina. She looks so happy.

And that makes me happy.

She’s been fascinated by The Grace and all that I’ve shown her. Even the engine room.

It’s been fun. I take a deep breath, the salt water in the air cleansing my soul. And I’m reminded of a quote from one of my favorite books—a memoir, Wind, Sand and Stars. “ ‘There is a poetry of sailing as old as the world,’ ” I murmur in her ear.

“That sounds like a quote.”

“It is. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.”

“Oh, I adore The Little Prince.”

“Me, too.”

I pilot us into the marina, then slowly turn The Grace and reverse into the berth. The crowd that gathered to watch has dispersed by the time Mac jumps onto the dock and ties the stern lines to two dock cleats.

“Back again,” I say to Ana, and, as usual, I’m a little reluctant to leave The Grace.

“Thank you. That was a perfect afternoon.”

“I thought so, too. Perhaps we can enroll you in sailing school, so we can go out for a few days, just the two of us.”

Or we could sail around the world, Ana, just you and me.

“I’d love that. We can christen the bedroom again and again.”

I kiss her under her ear. “Hmm, I look forward to it, Anastasia.” She squirms with pleasure. “Come, the apartment is clean. We can go back.”

“What about our things at the hotel?”

“Taylor has collected them already. Earlier today, after he did a sweep of The Grace with his team.”

“Does that poor man ever sleep?”

“He sleeps. He’s just doing his job, Anastasia, which he’s very good at. Jason is a real find.”

“Jason?”

“Jason Taylor.”

Ana’s smile is tender.

“You’re fond of Taylor,” I observe.

“I suppose I am. I think Taylor looks after you very well. That’s why I like him. He seems kind, reliable, and loyal. He has an avuncular appeal to me.”

“Avuncular?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, avuncular.”

Ana laughs. “Oh, Christian, grow up, for heaven’s sake.”

What?

She’s scolding me.

Why?

Because I’m possessive? Maybe that’s childish.

Maybe. “I’m trying,” I respond.

“That you are. Very,” she says, looking toward the ceiling.

“What memories you evoke when you roll your eyes at me, Anastasia.”

“Well, if you behave yourself, maybe we can relive some of those memories.”

“Behave myself? Really, Miss Steele—what makes you think I want to relive them?”

“Probably the way your eyes lit up like Christmas when I said that.”

“You know me so well already,” I say.

“I’d like to know you better.”

“And I you, Anastasia. Come, let’s go.” Mac has lowered the gangplank, allowing me to lead Ana onto the dock. “Thanks, Mac.” I shake his hand.

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Grey, and good-bye. Ana, great to meet you.”

“Good day, Mac, and thank you,” Ana replies, and she looks a little shy.

Together Ana and I walk up to the promenade, leaving Mac on The Grace.

“Where’s Mac from?” Ana asks.

“Ireland. Northern Ireland.”

“Is he your friend?”

“Mac? He works for me. Helped build The Grace.”

“Do you have many friends?”

What would I need friends for?

“Not really. Doing what I do. I don’t cultivate friendships. There’s only—” Shit. I stop myself. I don’t want to mention Elena. “Hungry?” I ask, feeling food might be a safer topic.

Ana nods.

“We’ll eat where I left the car. Come.”

ANA AND I ARE seated at a table in Bee’s, an Italian bistro next to SP’s. She reads the menu while I take a sip of a fine chilled Frascati. I like watching her read.

“What?” Ana asks when she looks up.

“You look lovely, Anastasia. The outdoors agrees with you.”

“I feel rather windburned, to tell the truth. But I had a lovely afternoon. A perfect afternoon. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Anastasia. You know that.”

“You don’t seem to have many friends. Why is that?”

“I told you, I don’t really have time. I have business associates, though that’s very different from friendships, I suppose. I have my family, and that’s it.” I shrug. “Apart from Elena.”

Thankfully, she ignores my Elena comment. “No male friends your own age that you can go out with and let off steam?”

No. Just Elliot.

“You know how I like to let off steam, Anastasia.” My voice is low. “And I’ve been working, building up the business. That’s all I do, except sail and fly occasionally.” And fuck, of course.

“Not even in college?”

“Not really.”

“Just Elena, then?”

I nod. Where is she going with this?

“Must be lonely.”

Leila’s words come back to me: “But you’re lonely. I can see it.” I frown. The only time I felt lonely was when Ana left me.

It was crippling.

I never want to feel like that again.

“What would you like to eat?” I ask, hoping to move the subject on.

“I’m going for the risotto.”

“Good choice.” I beckon the waiter over.

We place our order. Risotto for Ana, penne for me.

The waiter scurries off and I notice Ana staring down at her lap, knotting her fingers. Something is on her mind. “Anastasia, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

She looks at me, continuing to fidget, and I know there’s something bothering her. “Tell me,” I demand. I hate it when she’s anxious.

She sits up, straightening her back. She means business.

Shit. Now what?

“I’m just worried that this isn’t enough for you. You know, to let off steam.”

What? Not this again. “Have I given you any indication that this isn’t enough?” I ask.

“No.”

“Then why do you think that?”

“I know what you’re like. What you, um, need.” Her voice is hesitant, and she rounds her shoulders and crosses her arms like she’s folding in on herself. I close my eyes and rub my forehead. I don’t know what to say. I thought we were having a good time.

“What do I have to do?” I whisper.

I’m trying, Ana. I’m really trying.

“No, you misunderstand,” she says, suddenly animated. “You have been amazing, and I know it’s just been a few days, but I hope I’m not forcing you to be someone you’re not.”

Her response is reassuring, but I think she’s missing the point. “I’m still me, Anastasia, in all my fifty shades of fucked up…ness,” I say, searching for the word. “Yes, I have to fight the urge to be controlling, but that’s my nature, how I’ve dealt with my life. Yes, I expect you to behave a certain way, and when you don’t it’s both challenging and refreshing. We still do what I like to do. You let me spank you after your outrageous bid yesterday.”

The thought of last night’s arousing encounter preoccupies me for a moment.

Grey!

Keeping my voice low, I try to unravel how I feel. “I enjoy punishing you. I don’t think the urge will ever go, but I’m trying, and it’s not as hard as I thought it would be.”

“I didn’t mind that,” Ana says quietly, and she’s referring to our assignation in my childhood bedroom.

“I know. Neither did I.”

I take a deep breath and tell her the truth. “But let me tell you, Anastasia, this is all new to me, and these last few days have been the best in my life. I don’t want to change anything.”

Her face brightens. “They’ve been the best in my life, too, without exception.”

I’m sure my relief is reflected in my smile.

She persists. “So, you don’t want to take me into your playroom?”

Fuck. I swallow. “No, I don’t.”

“Why not?” she asks.

Now I’m really in the confessional. “The last time we were in there you left me. I will shy away from anything that could make you leave me again. I was devastated when you left. I explained that. I never want to feel like that again. I’ve told you how I feel about you.”

“But it hardly seems fair. It can’t be very relaxing for you to be constantly concerned about how I feel. You’ve made all these changes for me, and I—I think I should reciprocate in some way. I don’t know, maybe try some role-playing games.” She’s blushing.

“Ana, you do reciprocate, more than you know. Please, please don’t feel like this. Baby, it’s only been one weekend. Give us some time. I thought a great deal about us when you left. We need time. You need to trust me, and I you. Maybe in time we can indulge, but I like how you are now. I like seeing you this happy, this relaxed and carefree, knowing that I had something to do with it. I have never—” I stop.

Don’t give up on me, Ana.

I hear Dr. Flynn’s voice, nagging me. “We have to walk before we can run,” I say out loud.

“What’s so funny?” she asks.

“Flynn. He says that all the time. I never thought I’d be quoting him.”

“A Flynnism.”

I laugh. “Exactly.”

The waiter arrives with the appetizers and our heavy conversation ceases, turning to the much lighter subject of travel. We discuss all the countries Ana would love to visit, and the places I’ve been. Talking to Ana reminds me how lucky I am. My parents took us all over the world: to Europe, to Asia, and to South America. My father in particular considered travel a vital part of our education. Of course, they could afford it. Ana’s never left the U.S. and has always longed to visit Europe. I’d like to take her to all these places; I wonder how she’d feel about sailing the world with me.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Grey.

TRAFFIC IS LIGHT DURING our drive back to Escala. Ana admires the passing sights, her foot tapping in time to the music that fills the car.

I can’t help thinking about our earlier intense conversation about our relationship. The truth is, I don’t know if I can maintain a vanilla relationship, but I’m willing to try. I don’t want to push her into something she doesn’t want to do.

But she’s willing, Grey.

She said so.

She wants the Red Room, as she calls it.

I shake my head. I think, for once, I’m going to take Dr. Flynn’s advice.

Walk before we run, Ana.

I glance out of the window and catch sight of a young woman with long brown hair and she reminds me of Leila. It’s not her, but as we near Escala I begin to scan the streets, searching for her.

Where the fuck is she?

By the time I pull into the garage at Escala, my hands are gripping the steering wheel and tension has tightened every muscle in my body. I’m wondering if it was a good idea to come back to the apartment with Leila still at large.

Sawyer is in the garage, prowling around my parking spaces like a caged lion. This is overkill surely, but I’m relieved to see the Audi A3 is gone. He opens Ana’s car door as I switch off the engine.

“Hello, Sawyer,” she says.

“Miss Steele. Mr. Grey,” he says in greeting.

“No sign?” I ask him.

“No, sir,” he responds, and even though I knew that would be the answer, it’s vexing. I grasp Ana’s hand and we step into the elevator.

“You are not allowed out of here alone. You understand?” I caution Ana.

“Okay,” she says as the doors close, and her lips twitch in amusement.

“What’s so funny?” I’m floored that she agreed so readily.

“You are.”

“Me?” My tension starts to dissolve. She’s laughing at me? “Miss Steele? Why am I funny?” I purse my lips, trying to stop my smile.

“Don’t pout,” she says.

I’m pouting?

“Why?”

“Because it has the same effect on me as I have on you when I do this.” She lets her teeth toy with her bottom lip.

“Really?” I do it once more and lean down to give her a swift kiss. When my lips touch hers, it sparks my desire. I hear her sharp intake of breath, then her fingers are twisting in my hair. Holding my lips to hers, I grab her and push her against the elevator wall, my hands cradling her face. Her tongue is in my mouth and mine in hers as she takes what she wants and I give her all that I have.

It’s explosive.

I want to fuck her. Now.

I pour all my anxiety into her, and she takes everything.

Ana…

The elevator doors open with the familiar ping and I pull my face away from her, but I’m still pinning her to the wall with my hips and my hardening erection.

“Whoa,” I whisper, dragging air into my lungs.

“Whoa,” she answers, panting.

“What you do to me, Ana.” I trace my thumb across her lower lip. Ana’s eyes flit to the foyer and I sense rather than see Taylor.

She kisses the corner of my mouth. “What you do to me, Christian,” she says. I step back and take her hand. I haven’t jumped her in an elevator since that day at The Heathman.

Get a grip, Grey.

“Come,” I say.

As we exit the elevator, Taylor is standing to one side.

“Good evening, Taylor.”

“Mr. Grey, Miss Steele.”

“I was Mrs. Taylor yesterday,” Ana says, all smiles for Mr. Taylor.

“That has a nice ring to it, Miss Steele,” Taylor responds.

“I thought so, too.”

What the hell is going on?

I scowl at Ana and Taylor. “If you two have quite finished, I’d like a debriefing.” Ana and Taylor exchange a look. “I’ll be with you shortly. I just want a word with Miss Steele,” I say to Taylor.

He nods.

And I take Ana into my bedroom and close the door. “Don’t flirt with the staff, Anastasia.”

“I wasn’t flirting. I was being friendly. There is a difference.”

“Don’t be friendly with the staff or flirt with them. I don’t like it.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and looks down at her fingernails. I cup her chin and lift her head so I can see into her eyes. “You know how jealous I am.”

“You have no reason to be jealous, Christian. You own me body and soul.” She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, and suddenly I feel foolish.

She’s right.

I’m completely overreacting.

I give her a chaste kiss. “I won’t be long. Make yourself at home.” I go to find Taylor in his office. He stands when I enter.

“Mr. Grey, about—”

I hold up my hand. “Don’t. It’s I who should apologize.”

Taylor looks surprised.

“What’s occurring?” I ask.

“Gail will return later tonight.”

“Good.”

“I’ve informed the facilities management at Escala that Miss Williams had a key. I felt they should know.”

“How did they respond?”

“Well, I stopped them from calling the police.”

“Good.”

“The locks have all been changed and a contractor is coming to look at the emergency stairwell door. Miss Williams shouldn’t have been able to get in from the outside even with a key.”

“And you found nothing in your sweep?”

“Nothing, sir. I couldn’t tell you where she was hiding. But she’s not here now.”

“Have you spoken to Welch?”

“I’ve briefed him.”

“Thank you. Ana’s going to stay here tonight. I think it’s safer.”

“Agreed, sir.”

“Cancel the Audi. I’ve decided on a Saab for Ana. It should be here soon. I have asked them to expedite delivery.”

“Will do, sir.”

When I return to my bedroom, Ana is standing on the threshold of my closet. She looks a little stunned. I poke my head around the closet door. Her clothes are here.

“Oh, they managed the move.” I thought Gail was going to handle Ana’s clothes. I shrug it off.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

I give her a quick rundown of what Taylor has just told me about the apartment and Leila. “I wish I knew where she was. She’s evading all our attempts to find her, when she needs help.”

Ana puts her arms around me, holding me, calming me. And I embrace her and kiss the top of her head.

“What will you do when you find her?” she asks.

“Dr. Flynn has a place.”

“What about her husband?”

“He’s washed his hands of her.” Asshole. “Her family is in Connecticut. I think she’s very much on her own out there.”

“That’s sad.”

Ana’s compassion knows no bounds. I tighten my hold on her. “Are you okay with all your stuff being here? I want you to share my room.”

“Yes.”

“I want you sleeping with me. I don’t have nightmares when you’re with me.”

“You have nightmares?”

“Yes.” She squeezes me tighter, and we stand in my closet wrapped around each other.

A few moments later, she says, “I was just getting my clothes ready for work tomorrow.”

“Work?” I release her.

“Yes, work,” she says, confused.

“But Leila, she’s out there.” Doesn’t she get the risk? “I don’t want you to go to work.”

“That’s ridiculous, Christian. I have to go to work.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I have a new job, which I enjoy. Of course I have to go to work.”

“No, you don’t.” I can look after you.

“Do you think I am going to stay here twiddling my thumbs while you’re off being master of the universe?”

“Frankly, yes,” I respond.

Ana closes her eyes and rubs her forehead as if she’s calling on all her inner strength. She doesn’t understand. “Christian, I need to go to work,” she says.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I. Do.” Her tone is forthright and determined.

“It’s not safe.” Suppose something happens to you?

“Christian, I need to work for a living, and I’ll be fine.”

“No, you don’t need to work for a living, and how do you know you’ll be fine?”

Fuck. This is why I like having submissives. This would not be an argument if she’d signed the fucking contract.

“For heaven’s sake, Christian, Leila was standing at the end of your bed, and she didn’t harm me, and yes, I do need to work. I don’t want to be beholden to you. I have my student loans to pay.” She places her hands on her hips.

“I don’t want you going to work.”

“It’s not up to you, Christian. This is not your decision to make.”

Fuck.

She’s made up her mind.

And of course she’s right.

I run my hand through my hair, trying to hold on to my temper, and eventually I have an idea. “Sawyer will come with you.”

“Christian, that’s not necessary. You’re being irrational.”

“Irrational?” I snap. “Either he comes with you or I will be really irrational and keep you here.”

“How, exactly?”

“Oh, I’d find a way, Anastasia. Don’t push me.” I’m about to explode.

“Okay!” she shouts, holding up both her hands. “Okay, Sawyer can come with me if it makes you feel better.”

I want to kiss her or spank her or fuck her. I step forward and she immediately takes a step back, watching me.

Grey! You’re frightening the poor girl.

I take a deep cleansing breath and offer Ana a tour of my apartment. If she’s going to stay, she should really get to know this place.

She gives me an uncertain look, as if I’ve caught her off guard. But she agrees and takes my outstretched hand. I give her hand a squeeze.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I offer as an apology.

“You didn’t. I was just getting ready to run,” she says.

“Run?”

You’ve pushed her too far again, Grey.

“I’m joking!” she cries.

That’s not funny, Ana.

I sigh and lead her through the apartment. I show her the spare room next to mine, then take her upstairs to the additional spare rooms, the gym, and the staff quarters.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go in here?” she asks coyly, as we walk past the playroom door.

“I don’t have the key.” I’m still smarting from our argument. I hate arguing with her. But as usual, she’s calling me out on my shit.

But what if something happens to her?

It will be my fault.

All I can do is hope Sawyer will protect her.

Downstairs, I show her the TV room.

“So you do have an Xbox.” She laughs. I love her laugh. It immediately makes me feel better.

“Yes, but I’m crap at it. Elliot always beats me. That was funny, when you thought I meant this room was my playroom.”

“I’m glad you find me amusing, Mr. Grey,” she says.

“That you are, Miss Steele, when you’re not being exasperating, of course.”

“I’m usually exasperating when you’re being unreasonable.”

“Me? Unreasonable?”

“Yes, Mr. Grey. ‘Unreasonable’ could be your middle name.”

“I don’t have a middle name.”

“Unreasonable would suit, then.”

“I think that’s a matter of opinion, Miss Steele.”

“I would be interested in Dr. Flynn’s professional opinion.”

Lord, I love sparring with her.

“I thought Trevelyan was your middle name,” she asks.

“No. Surname. Trevelyan-Grey.”

“But you don’t use it.”

“It’s too long. Come.”

Next I take her to Taylor’s office. He stands when we enter. “Hi, Taylor. I’m just giving Anastasia a tour.” He nods at both of us. Ana looks around, surprised, I think, by the size of the room and the bank of CCTV monitors. We move on. “And, of course, you’ve been in here.” I open the door to the library, where Ana spies the billiards table.

“Shall we play?” she challenges.

Miss Steele is up for a game. “Okay. Have you played before?”

“A few times,” she says, avoiding eye contact.

She’s lying.

“You’re a hopeless liar, Anastasia. Either you’ve never played before or—”

“Frightened of a little competition?” she interrupts me.

“Frightened of a little girl like you?” I scoff.

“A wager, Mr. Grey.”

“You’re that confident, Miss Steele?” This is a new side to Ana I’ve not seen before.

Game on, Ana.

“What would you like to wager?”

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

Shit. She’s serious.

“And if I win?” I ask.

“Then it’s your choice.” She shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, but her eyes shine with mischief.

“Okay, deal.” How hard could this be? “Do you want to play pool, English snooker, or carom billiards?”

“Pool, please. I don’t know the others.”

I retrieve the pool balls from a cupboard under the bookshelves and rack them on the green baize. I choose a cue for Ana that should be right for her height. “Would you like to break?” I ask, as I hand her the chalk.

She is so going down.

Hmm. Maybe that could be my prize.

An image of her on her knees in front of me, hands bound, servicing my cock, comes to mind. Yeah. That would work.

“Okay,” she says, her voice breathy and soft as she chalks her cue. She purses her lips, and while watching me through her lashes, she slowly, deliberately blows off the excess.

I feel it in my dick.

Damn.

She lines up the cue ball, then hits it with such force and mastery that it scatters the rack. The corner ball, the yellow striped number nine, dives into the top right pocket.

Oh, Anastasia Steele, you are so full of surprises.

“I choose stripes,” she says, and has the gall to give me a coy smile.

“Be my guest.” This is going to be fun.

She prowls around the table, seeking her next victim. I like this new Ana. Predatory. Competitive. Confident. Sexy as hell. She leans over the table, stretching out her arm, so that her blouse rides up, showing a little skin between the hem and the top of her jeans. She hits the cue ball and the maroon stripe bites the dust. Circling the table again, she gives me a cursory glance before leaning over, stretching across the table again, ass in the air, as she pockets the purple.

Hmm. I may need to revise my plans.

She’s good.

She makes short work of the blue but misses the green.

“You know, Anastasia, I could stand here and watch you leaning and stretching across this billiard table all day,” I tell her.

She flushes.

Yes!

That’s the Ana I know.

I slip off my sweater and examine what’s left on the table.

Showtime, Grey.

I proceed to pocket as many solids as I can; I have some catching up to do. I sink three and line up to pocket the orange. I hit the cue ball and the orange hurtles into the bottom left pocket, followed by the white.

Shit.

“A very elementary mistake, Mr. Grey.”

“Ah, Miss Steele, I am but a foolish mortal. Your turn, I believe.” I wave my hand in the direction of the table.

“You’re not trying to lose, are you?” She cocks her head to one side.

“Oh no. For what I have in mind as the prize, I want to win, Anastasia. But then, I always want to win.”

Blow job on her knees or…

I could stop her from going to work. Hmm…A wager that could cost her her job. I don’t think that would be a popular choice.

She narrows her eyes, and I would pay good money to know what she’s thinking. At the top of the table she bends down to take a closer look at the lie of the balls. Her blouse gapes and I catch sight of her breasts.

She stands and there’s a little smile on her lips. She moves next to me and bends over, and shifts her ass first left, then right. She walks back to the top of the table and leans over again, showing me all she has to offer. As she bends over, she peeks up at me.

“I know what you’re doing,” I whisper.

And my cock approves, Ana.

Big-time.

I adjust my stance to accommodate my growing erection.

She straightens up and tilts her head to one side while running her hand up and down the cue, slowly. “Oh. I am just deciding where to take my next shot.”

Fuck. She’s a temptress.

She leans over, taps the orange stripe with the cue ball so it aligns with the pocket, then takes the rest from under the table and lines up the shot. As she takes aim at the white, I can see the swell of her breasts down her blouse. I inhale, sharply.

She misses.

Good.

I stroll around to stand behind her while she’s still bent over the table, and place my hand on her behind. “Are you waving this around to taunt me, Miss Steele?” I smack her hard.

Because she deserves it.

She gasps.

“Yes,” she whispers.

Oh, Ana. “Be careful what you wish for, baby.”

I aim the cue ball at the red, and it sinks into the left top pocket. Then I try for the top right with the yellow. I hit the cue ball gently. It kisses the yellow, but the ball stops just short of its destination.

Shit. Miss.

Ana grins at me. “Red Room, here we come,” she crows.

I like your kinky fuckery.

She really does.

It’s confusing. I signal to her to continue, knowing that I don’t want to take her to the playroom. The last time we were there, she left me.

She pockets the green stripe. She gives me a triumphant smile and sinks the orange.

“Name your pocket,” I mutter.

“Top left-hand,” she says as she wiggles her ass in front of me. She takes the shot and the black skirts wide of its target.

Oh, joy.

Quickly I dispatch the remaining two solids, and now I’m left with the black. I chalk my cue, gazing at Ana. “If I win, I am going to spank you, then fuck you over this billiard table.”

Her lips part.

Yes. She’s excited by the idea. That’s what she’s been asking me for all day. She thinks I’ve lost my edge?

Well, we’ll see.

“Top right,” I announce, and bend to take the shot. My cue taps the white and it sails up the table and pecks the black, which rolls toward the top-right pocket. It balances on the edge for a moment, and I stop breathing until it drops with a satisfying clunk into its goal.

Yes!

Anastasia Steele, you are mine.

I swagger over to where she stands with her mouth open, looking a little crestfallen. “You’re not going to be a sore loser, are you?” I ask.

“Depends how hard you spank me,” she murmurs. Taking the cue from her, I place it on the table, hook my finger into the top of her blouse, and tug so she steps toward me.

“Well, let’s count your misdemeanors, Miss Steele.” Holding up my fingers, I number her misdeeds. “One, making me jealous of my own staff.” Her eyes widen. “Two, arguing with me about working. And three, waving your delectable derrière at me for the last twenty minutes.”

Leaning down, I rub my nose against hers. “I want you to take your jeans and this very fetching shirt off. Now.” I kiss her gently on her lips, stroll over to the library door, and lock it.

When I turn, she’s frozen to the spot. “Clothes, Anastasia. You appear to still be wearing them. Take them off, or I will do it for you.”

“You do it,” she breathes, and her voice is as soft as a summer breeze.

“Oh, Miss Steele. It’s a dirty job, but I think I can rise to the challenge.”

“You normally rise to most challenges, Mr. Grey.” She bites her lip.

Innuendo from Ana.

“Why, Miss Steele, whatever do you mean?” On the library desk I spy a Perspex ruler.

Perfect.

All day long she’s been making not-so-veiled remarks about missing this side of me. Let’s see how she fares with this. I hold it up so she can see it and flex it between my hands, then slip it into my back pocket and stroll over to her.

Shoes off, I think.

I drop to my knees and undo both her Chucks, removing them and her socks. I undo the top button of her jeans and pull down her zipper. I look up at her as I slowly tug them off. Her eyes don’t leave mine. She steps out of her pants, and she’s wearing her white thong.

That thong.

I’m a fan.

So is my cock…

I grab the back of her thighs and run my nose up the front of her panties. “I want to be quite rough with you, Ana. You’ll have to tell me to stop if it’s too much,” I whisper, and through the lace plant a kiss on her clitoris.

She moans.

“Safe word?” she says.

“No, no safe word, just tell me to stop and I’ll stop. Understand?” I kiss her again and swirl my nose around the potent little bud at the apex of her thighs. I stand before I get carried away. “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“You’ve been dropping hints and giving me mixed signals, Anastasia. You said you were worried I’d lost my edge. I’m not sure what you meant by that, and I don’t know how serious you were, but we are going to find out. I don’t want to go back into the playroom yet, so we can try this now, but if you don’t like it, you must promise to tell me.”

“I’ll tell you. No safe word,” she says—to reassure me, I think.

“We’re lovers, Anastasia. Lovers don’t need safe words.” I frown. “Do they?” This is something I know nothing about.

“I guess not,” she responds. “I promise.”

I need to know she will communicate with me if I go too far. Her expression is earnest and full of desire. I unbutton her shirt and let it fall open, and the sight of her breasts is arousing. Very arousing. She looks amazing. From behind her I pick up the cue.

“You play well, Miss Steele. I must say I’m surprised. Why don’t you sink the black?”

She purses her lips, then with a defiant look, she reaches for the cue ball and, bending over the table, lines up the shot. As she does I go and stand behind her and place my hand on her right thigh. She tenses as I run my fingers to her ass and back down her thigh, lightly teasing her.

“I am going to miss if you keep doing that,” she complains, her voice husky.

“I don’t care if you hit or miss, baby. I just wanted to see you like this, partially dressed, stretched out on my billiard table. Do you have any idea how hot you look at this moment?”

She blushes and toys with the white as she tries to line it up. I caress her ass. Her beautiful ass, visible because she’s wearing a thong.

“Top left,” she says, and hits the cue ball with the tip of the cue. I smack her hard and she yelps. The white kisses the black, but the black bounces off the cushion, missing the pocket.

I caress her ass again. “Oh, I think you need to try that again. You should concentrate, Anastasia.”

She wiggles her behind beneath my hand, like she’s begging for more.

She’s enjoying this far too much, so I stroll to the end of the table to reset the black ball, and, picking up the white, I run it along the table back to her.

She catches the ball and starts lining it up once more.

“Uh-uh,” I warn. “Just wait.”

Not so fast, Miss Steele.

I wander back and stand behind her again, but this time I stroke my hand over her left thigh, and her ass.

I love her ass.

“Take aim,” I whisper.

She moans and puts her head on the table.

Don’t give up yet, Ana.

She takes a deep breath and, raising her head, moves to her right and I follow her. She bends, stretches over the table again, and hits the cue ball. As the ball flies up the baize, I smack her again. Hard. The black misses.

“Oh no,” she says and groans.

“Once more, baby. And if you miss this time, I’m really going to let you have it.” I set up the black again and wander back until I’m standing behind her and caressing her beautiful behind again. “You can do it,” I breathe.

She pushes her backside into my hand and I give her a playful smack.

“Eager, Miss Steele?” I ask.

She moans in reply.

“Well, let’s get rid of these.” I slide the thong down her legs, removing it and dropping it on her discarded jeans. While kneeling behind her, I kiss each cheek of her ass. “Take the shot, baby.”

She’s agitated, all fingers and thumbs, and she fumbles for the cue ball, lines it up, hits it, but in her impatience misses the shot. She scrunches up her eyes, waiting for me to spank her, but instead I lean over her, pressing her onto the baize. I take the cue from her hand and push it to the side.

Now for some real fun.

“You missed,” I whisper in her ear. “Put your hands flat on the table.”

My erection is fighting with my fly.

“Good. I’m going to spank you now, and next time, maybe you won’t.” I move beside her so I have a better aim. She groans and closes her eyes, and her breathing is getting louder. I caress her behind with one hand. With the other I hold her down and twist my fingers in her hair.

“Open your legs,” I tell her, and reach for the ruler in my pocket. She hesitates, so I smack her with the ruler. It makes a really satisfying noise as it cracks across her ass, and she gasps but says nothing, so I hit her again.

“Legs,” I order. She complies and I strike her again. She scrunches up her eyes as she takes the pain, but she doesn’t ask me to stop.

Oh, baby.

I spank her again, and again, and she moans. Her skin is turning pink beneath the ruler and my jeans are becoming impossibly tight as they restrict my arousal. I smack her again and again. And I’m lost. Lost in her. Owned by her. She’s doing this for me. And I love it. I love her.

“Stop,” she says.

And I drop the ruler without thinking and release her.

“Enough?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“I want to fuck you now,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“Yes,” she pleads.

She wants this, too.

Her ass is pink and she’s dragging air into her lungs.

I tug my fly open, allowing my cock some room, and then insert two fingers inside her, moving them in circles, reveling in her readiness.

I make quick work of putting on a condom, then steady myself behind her and slowly ease myself into her. Oh yes. This is without a doubt my favorite place in the world.

I ease out of her, holding her hips, then slam into her hard so that she cries out.

“Again?” I ask.

“Yes,” she breathes. “I’m fine. Lose yourself. Take me with you.”

Oh, Ana, with pleasure.

I slam into her once more and set up a slow but grueling rhythm, taking her again and again and again. She moans and cries out as I claim her. Every inch. Mine.

She starts to quicken—she’s nearly there—and I increase the pace, listening to her cries until she orgasms around me, crying out and taking me with her, so I call out her name and empty my soul inside her.

I collapse on top of her as I catch my breath. I’m filled with gratitude and humility. I love her. I want her. Always.

I pull her into my arms and we sink to the floor, where I cradle her against my chest. I never want to let her go. “Thank you, baby,” I whisper, and cover her face in soft kisses. She opens her eyes and gives me a drowsy, sated smile. I tighten my hold on her and stroke her cheek. “Your cheek is pink from the baize.”

Matches your ass, baby.

Her smile widens under my tender ministration. “How was that?” I ask.

“Teeth-clenchingly good,” she says. “I like it rough, Christian, and I like it gentle, too. I like that it’s with you.”

I close my eyes and marvel at the beautiful young woman in my arms. “You never fail, Ana. You’re beautiful, bright, challenging, fun, sexy, and I thank Divine Providence every day that it was you who came to interview me and not Katherine Kavanagh.” I kiss her hair and she yawns, making me smile. “I’m wearing you out. Come. Bath, then bed.”

I stand and pull her to her feet. “Do you want me to carry you?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, but you’d better get dressed—we don’t know who we’ll meet in the hallway.”

IN THE BATHROOM, I turn on the faucet and pour a copious amount of bath oil into the streaming water.

I help Ana out of her clothes and hold her hand as she steps in. I follow her quickly and we sit at opposite ends while the bath fills with hot water and fragrant foam.

I grab some body wash and with it begin to massage Ana’s left foot, my thumbs rubbing her instep.

“Oh, that feels so good.” She closes her eyes and tips back her head.

“Good.” I’m enjoying her pleasure. Her hair is tied in a ponytail that sits precariously in a loose bun on top of her head. A few tendrils escape, and her skin looks dewy and a little sun-kissed from our afternoon on The Grace.

She’s stunning.

It’s been a bewildering couple of days; Leila’s aberrant behavior, Elena’s interference, and Ana, steadfast and strong through it all. It’s been humbling. She humbles me. Most of all I’ve enjoyed sharing her happiness. I like to see her happy. Her joy is my joy.

“Can I ask you something?” she murmurs, cocking one eye open.

“Of course. Anything, Ana, you know that.”

She sits up and squares her shoulders.

Oh no.

“Tomorrow, when I go to work, can Sawyer just deliver me to the front door of the office, then pick me up at the end of the day? Please, Christian. Please,” she says quickly.

I stop my massage. “I thought we agreed.”

“Please.”

Why does she feel so passionately about this?

“What about lunchtime?” I ask, anxious once more about her safety.

“I’ll make myself something to take from here so I don’t have to go out. Please.”

“I find it very difficult to say no to you,” I admit, kissing her instep. I want her safe and, until Leila’s apprehended, I’m not sure that she will be.

Ana’s giving me the big blue eyes.

“You won’t go out?” I ask.

“No.”

“Okay.”

She smiles, grateful, I think. “Thank you,” she says, spilling water over the side of the bath as she moves to her knees. She places her hands on my upper arms and kisses me.

“You’re most welcome, Miss Steele. How’s your behind?”

“Sore. But not too bad. The water is soothing.”

“I’m glad you told me to stop,” I say.

“So is my behind.”

I grin. “Let’s go to bed.”

I BRUSH MY TEETH and wander back into my bedroom, where Ana is in bed.

“Didn’t Ms. Acton provide any nightwear?” I ask. I’m sure she has some silk and satin nightgowns.

“I have no idea. I like wearing your T-shirts,” she replies, and her eyelids droop.

Boy, she’s exhausted. I lean forward and kiss her forehead.

I still have some work to do, but I want to stay with Ana. I’ve been in her company all day, and it’s been lovely.

I never want this day to end.

“I need to work. But I don’t want to leave you alone. Can I use your laptop to log in to the office? Will I disturb you if I work from here?”

“S’not my laptop,” she mumbles, and closes her eyes.

“Yes, it is,” I whisper, and I sit down beside her and open her MacBook Pro. I click on Safari, log in to my e-mail, and begin to work through them.

Once that’s done, I e-mail Taylor and let him know that I’d like Sawyer to accompany Ana tomorrow. The only outstanding detail is deciding where Sawyer will be while Ana is at work.

This we will figure out in the morning.

I check my schedule. I have a meeting at 8:30 with Ros and Vanessa in procurement to discuss the conflict mineral issue.

I’m tired.

Ana is fast asleep as I lay down beside her. I watch her chest rise and fall with each breath. Over such a short time she has become so dear to me.

“Ana, I love you,” I whisper. “Thank you for today. Please stay.” And I close my eyes.