MONDAY, JUNE 13, 2011
Seattle’s morning news wakes me with a report about the Angels’ upcoming game with the Mariners. When I turn my head, Ana is awake and watching me. “Good morning,” she says with a bright smile. She caresses my stubbly cheek with her fingers and kisses me.
“Good morning, baby.” I’m surprised that I’ve slept so long. “I usually wake before the alarm goes off.”
“It’s set so early,” Ana whines.
“That it is, Miss Steele. I have to get up.” I kiss her and bound out of bed.
In my closet, I pull on my sweats and grab my iPod. I check on Ana before I leave; she’s gone back to sleep.
Good. She’s had an action-packed weekend. As have I.
Yes. What a weekend.
I resist the urge to kiss her good-bye, and let her sleep. Glancing through the windows, I see that the sky is overcast, but I don’t think it’s raining. I’ll chance a run, rather than my gym.
“Mr. Grey?” Ryan accosts me in the foyer.
“Good morning, Ryan.”
“Sir. You’re going out?” He probably thinks he needs to join me.
“I’ll be fine, Ryan. Thank you.”
“Mr. Taylor—”
“I’ll be fine.” I step into the elevator and leave Ryan in the foyer looking uncertain, probably second-guessing his decision. Leila was never one for an early morning…just like Ana. I think I’ll be safe.
It’s drizzling outside. But I don’t care. With “Bittersweet Symphony” blasting in my ears I set off, sprinting down Fourth Avenue.
My mind clouds with chaotic images of all that has happened over the last few days: Ana at the ball, Ana on my boat, Ana at the hotel.
Ana. Ana. Ana.
My life has been completely overturned to the point that I’m not sure I recognize myself.
Elena’s words come back to me: “Have you turned your back on who you are?”
Have I?
“I can’t change—” The words from the song echo through my head.
The truth is, I like being in her company. I like having her in my home. I’d like her to stay. Permanently. She’s brought humor, restful sleep, vitality, and love into my monochrome existence. I didn’t know I was lonely until I met her.
But she won’t want to move in, will she? While Leila is still at large it makes sense for her to stay, but once she’s found, Ana will go. I can’t make her stay, though part of me would like to. But in the interim, if she ever finds out the truth about me, she’ll leave and never want to see me again.
No one can love a monster.
And when she leaves…
Hell.
I run harder and faster, trying to clear my confusion until I’m conscious only of my bursting lungs and my Nikes hitting the ground.
MRS. JONES IS IN the kitchen when I get back from my run. “Good morning, Gail.”
“Mr. Grey, good morning.”
“Did Taylor tell you about Leila?”
“Yes, sir. I hope you find her. She needs help.” Gail’s face is full of concern.
“She does.”
“I understand Miss Steele is still here.” She gives me that weird little smile she has whenever we talk about Ana.
“I think she’ll be staying as long as Leila is a threat. She’ll need a packed lunch today.”
“Okay. What would you like for breakfast?”
“Scrambled eggs, toast.”
“Very good, sir.”
ONCE I’M SHOWERED AND dressed, I decide to wake Ana. She’s still fast asleep. I kiss her temple. “Come on, sleepyhead, get up.” Her eyes open and close again, and she takes a deep breath.
“What?” I ask.
“I wish you’d come back to bed.”
Don’t tempt me, baby.
“You are insatiable, Miss Steele. As much as that idea appeals, I have an eight-thirty meeting, so I have to go shortly.”
Startled, Ana looks at the clock, pushes me aside to leap out of bed, and dashes into the bathroom. Shaking my head, amused at her sudden burst of energy, I pop a few condoms into my pants pocket, then saunter into the kitchen for some breakfast.
You never know, Grey. I’ve learned that it’s good to be prepared around Anastasia Steele.
Mrs. Jones is making coffee.
“Your scrambled eggs will be ready in a moment, Mr. Grey.”
“Great. Ana will join me shortly.”
“Shall I make her scrambled eggs?”
“I think she likes pancakes and bacon.”
Gail places a coffee and my breakfast at one of the places she’s set at the kitchen counter.
Ana appears about ten minutes later, wearing some of the clothes I bought her.
A silk blouse and a gray skirt. She looks different.
Sophisticated.
Elegant.
She’s beautiful. Not a gauche student but a confident young working woman.
I approve and I wrap my arm around her. “You look lovely,” I say, kissing her behind her ear. My only misgiving about her appearance is that she has to spend time, looking like this, with her boss.
Don’t dwell, Grey. This is her choice. She wants to work.
I release her when Gail places her breakfast on the bar. “Good morning, Miss Steele,” she says.
“Oh, thank you. Good morning,” Ana replies.
“Mr. Grey says you’d like to take lunch with you to work. What would you like to eat?”
Ana shoots me a look.
Yeah, baby. I was serious. No going out.
“A sandwich. Salad. I really don’t mind.” She gives Gail an appreciative smile.
“I’ll rustle up a packed lunch for you, ma’am.”
“Please, Mrs. Jones, call me Ana.”
“Ana,” Gail says.
“I have to go, baby. Taylor will come back and drop you at work with Sawyer.”
“Only to the door,” she reiterates.
“Yes. Only to the door.” That’s what we agreed. “Be careful, though,” I add in a hushed tone. Standing, I grasp her chin and give her a swift kiss. “Laters, baby.”
“Have a good day at the office, dear,” she calls after me, and though it’s a corny thing to say—it delights me.
This feels so normal.
In the elevator Taylor greets me with an update. “Sir, there’s a coffee shop opposite SIP. I think Sawyer can station himself there during the day.”
“If he needs backup? You know, bathroom breaks.”
“I’ll send Reynolds or Ryan.”
“Okay.”
I’D FORGOTTEN THAT ANDREA is out for her wedding but she won’t be having much of a honeymoon if she’s back at work tomorrow. The woman who’s replaced her and whose name I still can’t remember is browsing the Vogue Facebook page when I arrive. “No social media during office hours,” I say with a grunt.
Rookie mistake. But she should know this. She’s already an employee here.
She’s startled. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Grey. I didn’t hear you arrive. Can I get you some coffee?”
“Yes. You may. A macchiato.”
I shut my office door and, at my desk, switch on my computer. There’s an e-mail from the Saab dealership: Ana’s car will arrive today. I forward the e-mail to Taylor so he can organize delivery, thinking that it will be a nice surprise for Ana this evening. Next, I e-mail Ana.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Boss
Date: June 13 2011 08:24
To: Anastasia Steele
Good morning, Miss Steele
I just wanted to say thank you for a wonderful weekend in spite of all the drama.
I hope you never leave, ever.
And just to remind you that the news of SIP is embargoed for four weeks.
Delete this e-mail as soon as you’ve read it.
Yours
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. & your boss’s boss’s boss
I check Andrea’s notes. The replacement’s name is Montana Brooks. She knocks and brings in my coffee.
“Ros Bailey is running a little late, but Vanessa Conway is here.”
“Let her wait for Ros.”
“Yes, Mr. Grey.”
“I need some ideas for wedding presents.”
Ms. Brooks looks taken aback. “Well, it depends how well you know the person and how much you’d like to spend and—”
I don’t need a lecture. I hold up my hand. “Write them down. It’s for my PA.”
“Does she have a bridal registry?”
“A what?”
“A bridal registry at a store?”
“I don’t know. Find out.”
“Yes, Mr. Grey.”
“That will be all.”
She leaves. Thank God Andrea’s back tomorrow.
Welch’s report on Jack Hyde is in my inbox. While I wait for Ros, I take the opportunity to look it over.
MY MEETING WITH ROS and Vanessa is brief. Vanessa and her team are conducting a thorough audit of all our supply chains, and they are proposing we source our cassiterite and wolframite from Bolivia and our tantalum from Australia to avoid the conflict mineral problem. It will be more expensive but will keep us on the right side of the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission. And it’s what we, as a company, should be doing.
When they leave, I check my e-mail. There’s one from Ana.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Bossy
Date: June 13 2011 09:03
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey
Are you asking me to move in with you? And, of course, I remembered that the evidence of your epic stalking capabilities is embargoed for another four weeks. Do I make a check out to Coping Together and send to your dad? Please don’t delete this e-mail. Please respond to it.
ILY xxx
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
Am I asking her to move in with me?
Shit.
Grey, this is a bold, sudden move.
I could look after her. Full-time.
She’d be mine. Really mine.
And deep down I know there is only one answer.
A resounding yes.
I ignore all her other questions and respond.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Me, Bossy?
Date: June 13 2011 09:07
To: Anastasia Steele
Yes. Please.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
While I wait for her response I read through the rest of the report on Jack Hyde. On the surface, his background check seems fine. He’s successful and earns a decent salary. He’s from humble beginnings and seems bright and ambitious, but there’s something unusual about his career path. Who, in publishing, starts in New York, then works at various publishers across the U.S., ending up in Seattle?
It makes no sense.
He doesn’t seem to have had any long-term relationships, and he never keeps an assistant for more than three months.
That means Ana’s time with him is limited.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Flynnisms
Date: June 13 2011 09:20
To: Christian Grey
Christian
What happened to walking before we run?
Can we talk about this tonight, please?
I’ve been asked to go to a conference in New York on Thursday.
It means an overnight stay on Wednesday.
Just thought you should know.
A x
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
She doesn’t want to move in with me. This is not the news I wanted.
What did you expect, Grey?
At least she wants to discuss it this evening, so there’s hope. But then she also wants to fuck off to New York.
Well, that sucks.
I wonder if this is a conference on her own.
Or with Hyde?
From: Christian Grey
Subject: WHAT?
Date: June 13 2011 09:21
To: Anastasia Steele
Yes. Let’s talk this evening.
Are you going on your own?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Jack Hyde must be a prick to work for if he doesn’t keep an assistant for more than three months. I know I’m an asshole, but Andrea’s worked for me for nearly a year and a half.
I didn’t know she was getting married.
Yes. That’s pissed me off, but before her there was Helena. She was with me for two years, and now she works in HR, recruiting our engineers.
While I wait for Ana’s answer, I read the final page of the report.
And there it is. Three hushed-up harassment claims at his previous publishers and two official warnings at SIP.
Three?
He’s a fucking creep. I knew it. Why wasn’t this in his employee file?
He was all over Ana at the bar. Invading her space. Like the photographer.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: No Bold Shouty Capitals on a Monday Morning!
Date: June 13 2011 09:30
To: Christian Grey
Can we talk about this tonight?
A x
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
Evasive, Miss Steele.
It’s a trip with him.
I know it.
She looked sensational this morning.
He’s planned it, I bet.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: You Haven’t Seen Shouty Yet.
Date: June 13 2011 09:35
To: Anastasia Steele
Tell me.
If it’s with the sleazeball you work with, then the answer is no, over my dead body.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I hit send and then buzz Ros.
“Christian,” she answers immediately.
“There’s a lot of unnecessary expenditure at SIP. They’re hemorrhaging money and we need to put a stop to it. I want a moratorium on all nonessential peripheral spending. Travel. Hotels. Hospitality. All the T&E. Especially for junior staff. You know the drill.”
“Really? I don’t think we’ll save much money.”
“Just call Roach. Make it happen. Immediately.”
“What’s brought this on?”
“Just do it, Ros.”
She sighs. “If you insist. Do you want me to add it to the contract?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks.” I hang up.
There. Now, that should put a stop to Ana and New York. Besides, I’d like to take her there myself. She told me yesterday that she’s never been there.
There’s a ping and Ana has responded.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: No YOU haven’t seen shouty yet.
Date: June 13 2011 09:46
To: Christian Grey
Yes. It is with Jack.
I want to go. It’s an exciting opportunity for me.
And I have never been to New York.
Don’t get your knickers in a twist.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
I’m about to reply when I hear a knock. “What?” I bark.
Montana pokes her head around the door and lingers, which is especially irritating—either come in or don’t. “Mr. Grey, the registry for Andrea…”
For a moment I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“It’s at Crate and Barrel,” she continues, simpering.
“Okay.” What the hell am I supposed to do with that information?
“I’ve made a list of the items still available and their prices.”
“E-mail it to me,” I say through gritted teeth. “And get me another coffee.”
“Yes, Mr. Grey.” She smiles as if we’re discussing the fucking weather and shuts the door.
Now I can respond to Miss Steele.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: No YOU haven’t seen shouty yet.
Date: June 13 2011 09:50
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia
It’s not my fucking knickers I am worried about.
The answer is NO.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Montana places another macchiato on my desk. “You have a meeting at ten with Barney and Fred in the lab,” she says.
“Thanks, I’ll take my coffee with me.” I know I sound surly. But right now a certain blue-eyed woman is getting under my skin. Montana leaves and I take a sip of coffee.
Fuck. Shit.
It’s scalding hot.
I drop the cup, the coffee, everything.
Hell.
Fortunately, it misses me and my keyboard, but it’s all over the damn floor.
“Ms. Brooks!” I yell. Jesus, I wish Andrea was here.
Montana pops her head around the door. Neither in. Nor out. And still wearing too much freshly applied lipstick.
“I’ve just dropped my coffee all over the floor because it was scalding hot. Get it cleaned up, please.”
“Oh, Mr. Grey. I’m so sorry.”
She scurries in to survey the mess and I leave her to deal with it. For a moment I wonder whether she might have done this on purpose.
Grey, you’re paranoid.
I grab my phone and decide to take the stairs.
Barney and Fred are sitting at the lab table.
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
“Mr. Grey,” Fred says. “Barney’s cracked it.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. The cover.”
“We put this through the 3D printer, and voila.”
He hands me a compact, hinged plastic cover that’s attached to the tablet. “This is great,” I say. “This must have taken you all weekend.” I stare at Barney.
He shrugs. “Nothing better to do.”
“You need to get out more, Barney. But this is good work. Is that all you wanted to show me?”
“We could easily adapt it and put this on a mobile phone cover, too.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“I’ll get on it.”
“Great. Anything else?”
“That’s it for now, Mr. Grey.”
“Might be worth showing the 3D printer to the mayor when he visits.”
“We’ve got quite the show planned for him,” says Fred.
“Without giving anything away,” adds Barney.
“Sounds great. Thanks for the show-and-tell. I’ll head back upstairs.”
Waiting for the elevator, I check my e-mail. There’s a reply from Ana.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Fifty Shades
Date: June 13 2011 09:55
To: Christian Grey
Christian
You need to get a grip.
I am NOT going to sleep with Jack—not for all the tea in China.
I LOVE you. That’s what happens when people love each other.
They TRUST each other.
I don’t think you are going to SLEEP WITH, SPANK, FUCK, or WHIP anyone else.
I have FAITH and TRUST in you.
Please extend the same COURTESY to me.
Ana
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
What the hell! I told her the e-mails at SIP were monitored.
We stop at several floors and I try, really try, to contain my anger. There’s that irritating, expectant hush within the elevator as my staff enter and exit, because I’m in there.
“Good morning, Mr. Grey.”
“Good morning, Mr. Grey.”
I nod my hellos.
But I’m not in the mood.
Beneath my polite smile, my blood is simmering.
As soon as I’m back in my office I check her work number and call her.
“Jack Hyde’s office, Ana Steele speaking,” she answers.
“Will you please delete the last e-mail you sent me and try to be a little more circumspect in the language you use in your work e-mail? I told you, the system is monitored. I will endeavor to do some damage limitation from here,” I snarl and hang up.
I call Barney.
“Mr. Grey.”
“Can you delete Miss Anastasia Steele’s e-mail to me at nine fifty-five from the SIP server and all mine to her?”
There’s silence at the other end of the phone.
“Barney?”
“Um. Sure, Mr. Grey, I was just working out how I can do it. I have an idea.”
“Great. Let me know when it’s done.”
“Yes, sir.”
My phone lights up. Anastasia.
“What?” I answer, and I think she can tell I’m more than grumpy.
“I am going to New York whether you like it or not.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Silence.
“Ana?”
She’s hung up on me.
Fuck. Again.
Who does that?
Well, I might have just done it to her, but that’s not the point.
And I remember she did it when she drunk-dialed me.
I put my head in my hands.
Ana. Ana. Ana.
My office phone buzzes.
“Grey.”
“Mr. Grey, Barney. It was much easier than I thought. Those e-mails are no longer on the SIP server.”
“Thanks, Barney.”
“No worries, Mr. Grey.”
At least something is going right.
There’s a knock on the door.
What now?
Montana opens the door; she’s holding a can of carpet cleaner and some tissue.
“Later,” I snap. I’ve had enough of her. She quickly reverses out of the office. I take a deep breath. Today is turning into a shit day and it’s not even lunchtime. There’s another e-mail from Ana.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: What have you done?
Date: June 13 2011 10:43
To: Christian Grey
Please tell me you won’t interfere with my work.
I really want to go to this conference.
I shouldn’t have to ask you.
I have deleted the offending e-mail.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
I respond immediately.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: What have you done?
Date: June 13 2011 10:46
To: Anastasia Steele
I am just protecting what is mine.
The e-mail that you so rashly sent is wiped from the SIP server now, as are my e-mails to you.
Incidentally, I trust you implicitly. It’s him I don’t trust.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Her response is almost as immediate.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Grown Up
Date: June 13 2011 10:48
To: Christian Grey
Christian
I don’t need protecting from my own boss.
He may make a pass at me, but I would say no.
You cannot interfere. It’s wrong and controlling on so many levels.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
“Controlling” is my middle name, Ana. I think I’ve told you this already, along with “unreasonable” and “weird.”
From: Christian Grey
Subject: The Answer is NO
Date: June 13 2011 10:50
To: Anastasia Steele
Ana
I have seen how “effective” you are at fighting off unwanted attention. I remember that’s how I had the pleasure of spending my first night with you. At least the photographer has feelings for you. The sleazeball, on the other hand, does not. He is a serial philanderer, and he will try to seduce you. Ask him what happened to his previous PA and the one before that.
I don’t want to fight about this.
If you want to go to New York, I’ll take you. We can go this weekend. I have an apartment there.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
She doesn’t reply immediately, and I distract myself with phone calls.
Welch has nothing new on Leila. We discuss whether or not to involve the police at this stage; I’m still reluctant to do it.
“She’s close, Mr. Grey,” Welch says.
“She’s clever. She’s managed to evade us so far.”
“We’re watching your place, SIP, Grey House. She won’t slip past us again.”
“I hope she doesn’t. And thanks for the report on Hyde.”
“You’re welcome. I can dig deeper if you wish.”
“It’s fine for now. But I may get back to you.”
“Okay, sir.”
“Bye.” I hang up.
My phone buzzes before I’ve let go of the receiver. “I have your mother on the line,” Montana chirps in a singsong voice.
Shit. That’s all I need. I’m still a little pissed at my mom and her comment about Ana being after my money.
“Put her through,” I mutter.
“Christian, darling,” Grace says.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Darling, I just wanted to apologize for what I said on Saturday. You know I think the world of Ana, it’s just…all of this is so sudden.”
“It’s fine.” But it’s not fine.
She’s quiet for a moment and I think she’s doubting the sincerity of my response.
However, I’m already arguing with one woman in my life; I don’t want to argue with another. “Grace?”
“Sorry, darling. It’s your birthday on Saturday and we wanted to organize a party.”
On my computer screen an e-mail from Ana appears.
“Mom, I can’t talk now. I have to go.”
“Okay, call me.” She sounds melancholy, but I don’t have time for her right now.
“Yes. Sure.”
“Bye, Christian.”
“Bye.” I hang up.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: FW Lunch date or Irritating Baggage
Date: June 13 2011 11:15
To: Christian Grey
Christian
While you have been busy interfering in my career and saving your ass from my careless missives, I received the following e-mail from Mrs. Lincoln. I really don’t want to meet with her—even if I did, I am not allowed to leave this building. How she got hold of my e-mail address, I don’t know. What would you suggest I do? Her e-mail is below:
Dear Anastasia, I would really like to have lunch with you. I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to make that right. Are you free sometime this week?
Elena Lincoln
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
Oh, this day just gets better and better. What the hell is Elena doing now? And Ana is calling me out on my shit as usual.
I didn’t know arguing could be so tiresome. And discouraging. And worrying. She’s mad at me.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Irritating Baggage
Date: June 13 2011 11:23
To: Anastasia Steele
Don’t be mad at me. I have your best interests at heart.
If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.
I’ll deal with Mrs. Lincoln.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Irritating baggage? I smile for the first time since I left Ana this morning. She has a way with words.
I call Elena.
“Christian,” she answers on the fifth ring.
“Do I have to get a banner and attach it to a plane and fly it over your office?”
She laughs. “My e-mail?”
“Yes, Ana sent it to me. Please. Leave her alone. She doesn’t want to see you. And I understand and respect that. You’re making my life really difficult.”
“You understand her?”
“Yes.”
“I think she needs to know how hard you are on yourself.”
“No. She doesn’t need to know anything.”
“You sound exhausted.”
“I’m just tired of you going behind my back and chasing my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Yes. Girlfriend. Get used to it.”
She sighs long and hard.
“Elena. Please.”
“Okay, Christian, it’s your funeral.”
What the fuck?
“I have to go,” I answer.
“Good-bye,” she says, and she sounds annoyed.
“Bye.” I hang up.
The women in my life are vexing. I turn in my chair and stare out of the window. The rain is relentless. The sky is dark and drab, reflecting my mood. Life has become complicated. It used to be easier when everything and everyone stayed where I placed them, in their designated compartments. Now, with Ana, everything’s changed. This is all new, and so far everyone, including my mother, seems to be pissed at me or pissing me off.
When I turn to face my computer there’s another e-mail from Ana.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Laters
Date: June 13 2011 11:32
To: Christian Grey
Can we please discuss this tonight?
I am trying to work, and your continued interference is very distracting.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
Okay. I’ll leave you alone.
What I really want to do is go over to her office and take her somewhere splendid for lunch. But I don’t think she’d appreciate that.
With a heavy sigh, I open the e-mail that lists Andrea’s bridal registry. Pots, pans, dishes—nothing appeals to me. And again I wonder why she didn’t tell me about her nuptials.
Feeling morose, I call Flynn’s office and make an appointment to see him later this afternoon. It’s overdue. Then I summon Montana and ask her to go and buy me a wedding card and some lunch. Surely she can’t screw that up.
AS I’M EATING MY lunch, Taylor calls.
“Taylor.”
“Mr. Grey, everything’s okay.”
My heart goes into overdrive as adrenaline powers through my body.
Ana.
“What is it? Is Ana okay?”
“She’s fine, sir.”
“Do you have news on Leila?”
“No, sir.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m just letting you know that Ana went to the deli on Union Square. She’s back in the office. She’s fine.”
“Thank you for letting me know. Anything else?
“The Saab will be here this afternoon.”
“Great.” I put the phone down and try, really try, not to be mad as hell. I fail. She told me she’d stay put.
Leila could put a bullet through her.
Doesn’t she understand that?
I call her.
“Jack Hyde’s office—”
“You assured me you wouldn’t go out.”
“Jack sent me out for some lunch. I couldn’t say no. Are you having me watched?” She sounds incredulous.
I ignore her question. “This is why I didn’t want you going back to work.”
“Christian, please. You’re being so suffocating.”
“Suffocating?”
“Yes. You have to stop this. I’ll talk to you this evening. Unfortunately, I have to work late because I can’t go to New York.”
“Anastasia, I don’t want to suffocate you.”
“Well, you are. I have work to do. I’ll talk to you later.” She sounds as miserable as I feel and she hangs up.
I’m suffocating her?
Maybe I am…
I just want to protect her. I saw what Leila did to her car.
Don’t push her too far, Grey.
She’ll leave.
FLYNN HAS A REAL log fire burning in his office. It’s June. It spits and crackles as we talk.
“You bought the company where she works?” Flynn asks with raised eyebrows.
“Yes.”
“I think Ana has a point. I’m not surprised she feels suffocated.”
I shift in my chair. This is not what I want to hear. “I wanted to get into publishing.”
Flynn remains impassive, giving nothing away, waiting for me to speak.
“It’s over the top, isn’t it?” I concede.
“Yes.”
“She wasn’t impressed.”
“Did you set out to impress her?”
“No. That wasn’t my intention. Anyway, SIP is mine now.”
“I understand that you’re trying to protect her, and I know why you’re trying to do that. But this is an out-of-the-ordinary reaction. You have a bank account that allows you to do this, but you will drive her away if you continue on this path.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Christian, you have a great deal to contend with at the moment. Leila Williams—and yes, I will help you when you find her—Anastasia’s animosity toward Elena…I think you can understand why Ana feels that way.” He gives me a pointed look.
I shrug, unwilling to agree with him.
“But there’s something much bigger you’re not telling me, and I’ve been waiting for you to tell me since you arrived here. I saw it on Saturday.”
I stare at him, wondering what he’s talking about. He sits patiently. Waiting.
He saw it on Saturday?
The bidding?
The dancing?
Shit.
“I’m in love with Ana.”
“Thank you. I know.”
“Oh.”
“I could have told you that when you came to see me after she left you. I’m glad you worked it out for yourself.”
“I didn’t know I was capable of feeling like this.”
“Of course you’re capable.” He sounds exasperated. “That’s why I was so interested in your reaction when she told you that she loved you.”
“It’s getting easier to hear.”
He smiles. “Good. I’m glad.”
“I’ve always been able to separate the different aspects of my life. My work. My family. My sex life. I understood what each of these meant to me. But since I met Ana, it’s not as simple anymore. It’s entirely unfamiliar and I feel out of my depth and out of control.”
“Welcome to falling in love.” Flynn smiles. “And don’t be too hard on yourself. You have an ex on the loose with a gun who has already tried to get your attention by attempting suicide in front of your housekeeper. And she’s vandalized Ana’s car. You’ve put measures in place to keep Ana and you safe. You’ve done all you can. You can’t be everywhere, and you can’t keep Ana locked up.”
“I want to.”
“I know you do. But you can’t. Simple.”
I shake my head, but deep down I know John’s right.
“Christian, I’ve long held the belief that you never really had an adolescence—emotionally speaking. I think you’re experiencing it now. I can see how agitated you are,” he continues, “and since you won’t let me prescribe you any anti-anxiety medication, I’d like you to try the relaxation techniques we discussed.”
Oh, not that shit. I roll my eyes, but I know I’m behaving like a sulky teenager. He just said as much.
“Christian, it’s your blood pressure. Not mine.”
“Okay.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’ll try my happy place.” I sound sarcastic, but it will appease John, who’s looking at the clock.
Where is my happy place?
My childhood in the orchard.
Sailing or soaring. Always.
It used to be with Elena.
But now my happy place is with Ana.
In Ana.
Flynn stifles a smile. “Time’s up,” he says.
FROM THE BACK OF the Audi, I call Ana.
“Hi,” she says, her voice quiet and breathy.
“Hi. When will you be finished?”
“By seven thirty, I think.”
“I’ll meet you outside.”
“Okay.”
Thank God—I thought she might say she wanted to go back to her own apartment.
“I’m still mad at you, but that’s all,” she whispers. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“I know. See you at seven thirty.”
“I have to go. See you later.” She hangs up.
“Let’s sit here and wait for her,” I say to Taylor, and glance at the front door of SIP.
“Okay, sir.”
And I sit and listen to the rain as it drums an uneven tattoo on the roof of the car, drowning out my thoughts. Drowning out my happy place.
AN HOUR LATER, the door to SIP opens and there she is. Taylor climbs out of the car and opens the door as Ana hurries toward us, head down to avoid the rain.
I have no idea what she’s going to do or say as she shuffles in beside me, but she’s shaking her head and scattering droplets of water over me and the backseat.
I want to hold her.
“Hi,” she says, and her anxious eyes meet mine.
“Hi,” I respond and, reaching over, I grasp her hand and squeeze it.
“Are you still mad?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she says.
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss each knuckle in turn. “It’s been a shitty day.”
“Yes, it has.” Her shoulders slump and she seems to relax into the car seat as she lets out a deep breath.
“It’s better now that you’re here.” I run my thumb across her knuckles, craving the contact. As Taylor drives us home, the day’s woes seem to dissipate and at last I start to relax.
She’s here. She’s safe.
She’s with me.
Taylor stops outside Escala and I’m not sure why. But Ana is already opening the door, so I jump out after her and we run into the building and out of the rain. I grasp her hand as we wait for the elevator, surveying the street through the plate glass. Just in case.
“I take it you haven’t found Leila yet,” Ana says.
“No. Welch is still looking for her.”
We step into the elevator and the doors close. Ana looks up at me, elfin-faced, and wide-eyed—I can’t look away. Our gaze holds my longing and her need. She licks her lips. A come-on.
And suddenly our attraction is in the air between us, like static, surrounding us.
“Do you feel it?” I whisper.
“Yes.”
“Oh, Ana.” I cannot bear the distance between us. I reach for her so she’s in my arms and angle her head. My lips seek and find hers. She groans into my mouth, her fingers in my hair as I push her against the elevator wall. “I hate arguing with you.” I want every inch of her. Right here. Right now. To know that we’re okay.
Ana’s response is immediate. Her hunger and passion are unleashed in our kiss, her tongue demanding and urgent. Her body rises and presses against mine, seeking relief as I lift up her skirt, my fingertips skimming her thigh and feeling lace and warm, warm flesh. “Sweet Jesus, you’re wearing stockings.” My voice is hoarse as I slide my thumb across her stocking line. “I want to see this.” And I pull her skirt right up so I can see the tops of her thighs.
I step back to enjoy the view and press the elevator’s emergency stop button. I’m panting. I’m wanting, and she stands there like the fucking goddess she is, staring me down, her eyes dark, carnal, her breasts rising and falling as she drags air into her lungs.
“Take your hair down.”
Ana yanks at her hair tie and her hair spills down over her shoulders and curls at her breasts. “Undo the top two buttons of your shirt,” I whisper, growing harder and harder. Her lips parted, she reaches up and slowly, too slowly, undoes the first one. Pausing for a beat, she lowers her fingers to the second button and undoes it. Unhurried. Tantalizing me further and finally revealing the soft swell of her breasts.
“Do you have any idea how alluring you look right now?” I hear the need in my voice.
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and shakes her head.
I think I’m going to explode. I close my eyes and try to bring my body to heel. Stepping forward, I place my hands on the wall on either side of her face. She tilts her face up, and her eyes meet mine.
I lean closer. “I think you do, Miss Steele. I think you like to drive me wild.”
“Do I drive you wild?”
“In all things, Anastasia. You are a siren, a goddess.” I reach down and grasp her leg above her knee and hitch it up around my waist. Slowly I lean down, pressing my body into hers. My erection sitting at the sacred junction of her thighs. I kiss her throat, my tongue tasting and savoring her. She wraps her arms around my neck and she arches her back, pressing into me.
“I’m going to take you now.” I groan and lift her higher. Grabbing a condom from my pocket, I undo my fly. “Hold tight, baby.”
She tightens her arms around my neck and I show her the condom. She bites down on the corner and I tug, and together we rip open the foil packet.
“Good girl.”
I step back a little and manage to slide on the damn condom. “God, I can’t wait for the next six days.”
No more condoms.
I run my thumb over her underwear.
Lace. Good.
“I do hope you’re not overly fond of these panties.” And the only reply is her heavy breathing in my ear. I push my thumbs through the seam at the back and they tear apart, allowing me access to my happy place.
With my eyes on hers, I take her, slowly.
Fuck, she feels good.
She arches her back and closes her eyes and groans.
I pull back and sink slowly into her once more.
This is what I want.
This is what I needed.
After such a shitty day.
She didn’t run.
She’s here.
For me.
With me.
“You’re mine, Anastasia.” The words wash against her throat.
“Yes. Yours. When will you accept that?” Her words are a sigh. And it’s what I want to hear. What I need to hear. I take her, fast, furious. I need her. With each little cry, each pant, each tug of my hair, I know she needs me, too. I lose myself in her and I feel her spiral out of control. “Oh, baby,” I moan, and she comes around me, crying out, and I follow, whispering her name.
I kiss her, holding her, as my composure returns. We are forehead to forehead and her eyes are closed. “Oh, Ana, I need you so much.” I close my eyes and kiss her forehead, thankful that I’ve found her.
“And I you, Christian,” she whispers.
I release her and straighten her skirt and I do up the top two buttons of her shirt. I punch the override code into the elevator keypad and it jolts to life. “Taylor will be wondering where we are.” I give her a wicked grin and she tries in vain to smooth out her hair. After a few futile attempts she gives up and opts for a ponytail.
“You’ll do,” I reassure her, and zip up my fly and slip the condom and her ruined panties into my pocket for disposal later.
Taylor is waiting when the doors open.
“Problem with the elevator,” I say as we step out, but I avoid eye contact with him. Ana scampers off to the bedroom, no doubt to freshen up, and I make my way into the kitchen, where Mrs. Jones is preparing dinner.
“The Saab is here, Mr. Grey,” Taylor says, having followed me into the kitchen.
“Great. I’ll let Ana know.”
“Sir.” He smiles. He and Gail exchange a look before he turns to leave.
“Good evening, Gail,” I say, ignoring their look, as I slip off my jacket. I hang it on the barstool and sit down at the counter.
“Good evening, Mr. Grey. Dinner will be ready shortly.”
“Smells good.”
Damn, I’m hungry.
“Coq au vin, for two.” She gives me a fond sideways glance as she takes two plates out of the warming drawer. “I’m just checking that Miss Steele will be with us tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll fix lunch for her again.”
“Great.”
Ana returns to join me at the kitchen counter and Mrs. Jones serves us our dinner.
“Enjoy, Mr. Grey, Ana,” she says, and exits the kitchen.
I fetch a bottle of Chablis from the fridge and pour each of us a glass. Ana tucks into her food. She’s hungry.
“I like to see you eat.”
“I know.” She pops a piece of chicken into her mouth. I grin and take a sip of wine. “Tell me something good about your day,” she says when she’s finished chewing.
“We had a breakthrough today with the design of our solar-powered tablet. It has so many different applications. We’ll be able to make solar-powered phones, too.”
“You’re excited about that?”
“Very. And they’ll be cheap to produce and distribute in developing countries.”
“Careful, your philanthropy is showing,” she teases, but her expression is warm. “So is it just in New York and Aspen that you have property?”
“Yes.”
“Where in New York?”
“TriBeCa.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s an apartment. I rarely use it. In fact, my family uses it more than I do. I’ll take you, whenever you want to go.”
Ana stands and collects my plate and puts it in the sink. I think she’s about to wash up. “Leave that. Gail will do it.” She looks happier than when she got into the car.
“Well, now that you are more docile, Miss Steele, shall we talk about today?”
“I think you’re the one who’s more docile. I think I’m doing a good job in taming you.”
“Taming me?” I snort, amused that she thinks I need taming.
She nods. She’s serious.
Taming me.
Well, I’m certainly more docile since our assignation in the elevator. And she was more than happy to contribute to that encounter. Is that what she means?
“Yes. Maybe you are, Anastasia.”
“You were right about Jack,” she says, and leans across the kitchen counter, regarding me seriously.
My blood runs cold. “Has he tried anything?”
She shakes her head. “No, and he won’t, Christian. I told him today that I’m your girlfriend, and he backed right off.”
“You’re sure? I could fire the fucker.”
He’s history. I want him out.
Ana sighs. “You really have to let me fight my own battles. You can’t constantly second-guess me and try to protect me. It’s stifling, Christian. I’ll never flourish with your incessant interference. I need some freedom. I wouldn’t dream of meddling in your affairs.”
“I only want you safe, Anastasia. If anything happened to you, I—”
“I know,” she says, “and I understand why you feel so driven to protect me. And part of me loves it. I know that if I need you, you’ll be there, as I am for you. But if we are to have any hope of a future together, you have to trust me and trust my judgment. Yes, I’ll get it wrong sometimes—I’ll make mistakes, but I have to learn.” It’s a passionate plea, and I know she’s right.
It’s just…it’s just…
Flynn’s words come to mind. You will drive her away if you continue on this path.
She comes toward me with quiet determination and, taking my hands, places them around her waist. Gently, she puts her hands on my arms. “You can’t interfere in my job. It’s wrong. I don’t need you charging in like a white knight to save the day. I know you want to control everything, and I understand why, but you can’t. It’s an impossible goal. You have to learn to let go.” She strokes my face. “And if you can do that—give me that—I’ll move in with you.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yes,” she says.
“But you don’t know me,” I blurt, suddenly panicked. I have to tell her.
“I know you well enough, Christian. Nothing you tell me about yourself will frighten me away.”
I doubt that. She doesn’t know why I do what I do.
She doesn’t know the monster.
She touches my cheek again, trying to reassure me. “But if you could just ease up on me.”
“I’m trying, Anastasia. I couldn’t just stand by and let you go to New York with that sleazeball. He has an alarming reputation. None of his assistants have lasted more than three months, and they’re never retained by the company. I don’t want that for you, baby. I don’t want anything to happen to you. You being hurt, the thought fills me with dread. I can’t promise not to interfere, not if I think you’ll come to harm.” I take a deep breath. “I love you, Anastasia. I will do everything in my power to protect you. I cannot imagine my life without you.”
Quite the speech, Grey.
“I love you, too, Christian.” She folds her arms around my neck and kisses me, her tongue teasing my lips.
Taylor coughs in the background, and I stand with Ana by my side.
“Yes?” I ask Taylor, a little more sharply than intended.
“Mrs. Lincoln is on her way up, sir.”
“What?”
Taylor gives me an apologetic shrug.
I shake my head.
“Well, this should be interesting,” I mutter, and give Ana a contrite smile. Ana looks from me to Taylor and I don’t think she quite believes him. He gives her a nod and leaves.
“Did you talk to her today?” she asks me.
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I said that you didn’t want to see her, and that I understood your reasons why. I also told her that I didn’t appreciate her going behind my back.”
“What did she say?”
“She brushed it off in a way that only Elena can.”
“Why do you think she’s here?”
“I have no idea.”
Taylor returns to the living room. “Mrs. Lincoln,” he says, and Elena stands staring at the two of us. I pull Ana closer to my side.
“Elena?” I say, wondering why the hell she’s here.
She looks from me to Ana. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company, Christian. It’s Monday,” she says.
“Girlfriend,” I clarify.
Submissives only on the weekend, Mrs. Lincoln. You know this.
“Of course. Hello, Anastasia. I didn’t know you’d be here. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I accept that.”
“Do you?” Ana’s tone is deadly.
Hell.
Elena walks toward us. “Yes, I get the message. I’m not here to see you. Like I said, Christian rarely has company during the week.” She pauses and addresses Ana directly. “I have a problem, and I need to talk to Christian about it.”
“Oh? Do you want a drink?” I ask.
“Yes, please,” she says.
I fetch a glass. When I turn they are both sitting in awkward silence at the kitchen island.
Shit.
This day. This day. This day. It just gets better and better.
I pour wine into both of their glasses and take a seat between them.
“What’s up?” I ask Elena.
Elena’s eyes dart to Ana.
“Anastasia’s with me now.” I reach across and give Ana’s hand a reassuring squeeze in the hope that she keeps quiet. The sooner Elena says her piece, the sooner she’ll be gone.
Elena looks nervous, unlike her usual self. She twists her ring, a sure sign that something is agitating her. “I’m being blackmailed.”
“How?” I ask, appalled. She pulls a note out of her purse. I don’t want to touch it. “Put it down, lay it out.” I point with my chin at the marble top and tighten my hold on Ana’s hand.
“You don’t want to touch it?” Elena asks.
“No. Fingerprints.”
“Christian, you know I can’t go to the police with this.” She puts the note on the counter. It’s written in capital letters.
MRS LINCOLN
FIVE THOUSAND
OR I TELL ALL.
“They’re only asking for five thousand dollars?” That doesn’t seem right. “Any idea who it might be? Someone in the community?”
“No,” she responds.
“Linc?”
“What—after all this time? I don’t think so.”
“Does Isaac know?”
“I haven’t told him.”
“I think he needs to know.”
Ana tugs at her hand. She wants out.
“What?” I ask Ana.
“I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed,” she says.
I search her face to see what she’s really thinking, and as usual I have no idea.
“Okay,” I answer. “I won’t be long.” I release her hand and she gets up.
“Good night, Anastasia,” Elena says.
Ana responds, her voice frigid, and she stalks out of the room. I turn my attention back to Elena.
“I don’t think there’s a great deal I can do, Elena. If it’s a question of money…” I stop. She knows I’d give her the money. “I could ask Welch to investigate?”
“No, Christian, I just wanted to share. You look very happy,” she adds, changing the subject.
“I am.” Ana just agreed to move in.
“You deserve to be.”
“I wish that were true.”
“Christian.” Elena’s tone is chastising. “Does she know how negative you are about yourself? About all your issues?”
“She knows me better than anyone.”
“Ouch! That hurts.”
“It’s the truth, Elena. I don’t have to play games with her. And I mean it, leave her alone.”
“What is her problem?”
“You. What we were. What we did. She doesn’t understand.”
“Make her understand.”
“It’s in the past, Elena, and why would I want to taint her with our fucked-up relationship? She’s good and sweet and innocent, and by some miracle she loves me.”
“It’s no miracle, Christian. Have a little faith in yourself. You really are quite a catch. I’ve told you often enough. And she seems lovely, too. Strong. Someone to stand up to you.”
“She’s stronger than both of us.”
Elena’s eyes cool. She looks thoughtful. “Don’t you miss it?”
“What?”
“Your playroom.”
“That really is none of your fucking business.”
“I’m sorry.” Her sarcasm is irritating. She’s anything but sorry.
“I think you’d better go. And please, call before you come again.”
“Christian, I am sorry,” she says again, sincerely this time. “Since when are you so sensitive?”
“Elena, we have a business relationship that has profited us both immensely. Let’s keep it that way. What was between us is part of the past. Anastasia is my future, and I won’t jeopardize it in any way, so cut the fucking crap.”
“I see.” Elena gives me a hard stare, as if she’s trying to get under my skin. It makes me uncomfortable.
“Look, I’m sorry for your trouble. Perhaps you should ride it out and call their bluff.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Christian.”
“I’m not yours to lose, Elena.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” I snap.
“Look, I don’t want to argue with you. Your friendship means a lot to me. I’ll back off from Anastasia. But I’m here if you need me. I always will be.”
“Anastasia thinks that you saw me last Saturday. You called, that’s all. Why did you tell her otherwise?”
“I wanted her to know how upset you were when she left. I don’t want her to hurt you.”
“She knows. I’ve told her. Stop interfering. Honestly, you’re like a mother hen.”
Elena laughs, but it’s hollow, and I really want her to go. “I know. I’m sorry. You know I care about you. I never thought you’d end up falling in love, Christian. It’s very gratifying to see. But I couldn’t bear it if she hurt you.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I state wryly. “Now, are you sure you don’t want Welch to sniff around?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm.”
“Okay. I’ll call him in the morning.”
“Thank you, Christian. And I am sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll go. Next time I’ll call.”
“Good.”
I stand and she takes the hint and gets up, too. We walk into the foyer and she gives me a peck on the cheek. “I’m just watching out for you,” she says.
“I know. Oh, and another thing, can you not gossip to my mother about my relationship with Ana?”
“Okay,” she says, but her mouth is pinched. She’s irritated now.
The elevator doors open and she steps inside.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Christian.”
The doors close and Ana’s words from her e-mail earlier today come to mind.
Irritating baggage.
I chuckle, in spite of myself. Yes, Ana. You are so right.
Ana is sitting on my bed. Her look is inscrutable. “She’s gone,” I say, anxious about Ana’s reaction. I don’t know what she’s thinking.
“Will you tell me all about her? I am trying to understand why you think she helped you.” She glances down at her fingernails, then up at me, her eyes clear with conviction. “I loathe her, Christian. I think she did you untold damage. You have no friends. Did she keep them away from you?”
Oh, Christ. I’ve really had enough of this. I do not need this now. “Why the fuck do you want to know about her? We had a very long-standing affair, she beat the shit out of me often, and I fucked her in all sorts of ways you can’t even imagine, end of story.”
She’s taken aback. Eyes flashing, she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Why are you so angry?”
“Because all of that shit is over!” And I’m shouting.
Ana looks away, her mouth a hard line.
Damn it.
Why am I so volatile around her…?
Calm down, Grey.
I sit down beside her. “What do you want to know?”
“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t mean to intrude.”
“Anastasia, it’s not that. I don’t like talking about this shit. I’ve lived in a bubble for years with nothing affecting me and not having to justify myself to anyone. She’s always been there as a confidante. And now my past and my future are colliding in a way I never thought possible. I never thought I had a future with anyone, Anastasia. You give me hope and have me thinking about all sorts of possibilities.”
You’ve said you’d move in with me.
“I was listening,” she whispers, and I think she’s embarrassed.
“What? To our conversation?” Christ. What did I say?
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“She cares for you.”
“Yes, she does. And I for her in my own way, but it doesn’t come close to how I feel about you. If that’s what this is about.”
“I’m not jealous,” she says quickly, and tosses her hair over her shoulder again.
I’m not sure I believe her.
“You don’t love her?”
I sigh. “A long time ago, I thought I loved her.”
“When we were in Georgia you said you didn’t love her.”
“That’s right.”
She’s perplexed.
Oh, baby, do I have to spell it out for you?
“I loved you then, Anastasia. You’re the only person I’d fly three thousand miles to see. The feelings I have for you are very different from any I ever had for Elena.” Ana asks me when I knew this. “Ironically, it was Elena who pointed it out to me. She encouraged me to go to Georgia.”
Ana’s expression changes. She looks wary. “So you desired her? When you were younger.”
“Yes. She taught me a great deal. She taught me to believe in myself.”
“But she also beat the shit out of you.”
“Yes, she did.”
“And you liked that?”
“At the time I did.”
“So much that you wanted to do it to others?”
“Yes.”
“Did she help you with that?”
“Yes.”
“Did she sub for you?”
“Yes.”
Ana’s shocked. Don’t ask me if you don’t want to know.
“Do you expect me to like her?”
“No. Though it would make my life a hell of a lot easier. I do understand your reticence.”
“Reticence! Jeez, Christian—if that were your son, how would you feel?”
What a ridiculous question.
Me. With a son?
Never.
“I didn’t have to stay with her. It was my choice, too, Anastasia.”
“Who’s Linc?”
“Her ex-husband.”
“Lincoln Timber?”
“The very same.”
“And Isaac?”
“Her current submissive. He’s in his mid-twenties, Anastasia. You know—a consenting adult.”
“Your age,” she says.
Enough. Enough.
“Look, Anastasia, as I said to her, she’s part of my past. You are my future. Don’t let her come between us, please. And quite frankly, I’m really bored of this subject. I’m going to do some work.” I stand and look down at her. “Let it go. Please.”
She sticks her chin out in that obstinate way she does. I choose to ignore it.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I add. “Your car arrived a day early. It’s in the garage. Taylor has the key.”
Her eyes light up. “Can I drive it tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
Leila. Do I have to spell it out?
“And that reminds me,” I continue. “If you’re going to leave your office, let me know. Sawyer was there, watching you. It seems I can’t trust you to look after yourself at all.”
“Seems I can’t trust you, either,” she says. “You could have told me Sawyer was watching me.”
“Do you want to fight about that, too?” I ask.
“I wasn’t aware we were fighting. I thought we were communicating,” she replies, glaring at me.
I close my eyes, struggling to keep my temper. This is getting us nowhere. “I have to work.” I walk out, leaving her sitting on the bed, before I say something I’ll regret.
All these questions.
If she doesn’t like the answers, why does she ask me?
Elena is pissed, too.
I sit down at my desk and already there’s an e-mail from her.
From: Elena Lincoln
Subject: Tonight
Date: June 13 2011 21:16
To: Christian Grey
Christian
I’m sorry. I don’t know what possessed me to come over.
I feel that I’m losing you as a friend. That’s all.
I value your friendship and advice so much.
I wouldn’t be where I am without you.
Just know that.
Ex
ELENA LINCOLN
ESCLAVA
For The Beauty That Is You™
I think she’s also telling me that I wouldn’t be where I am without her. And that’s true.
She grabs a handful of my hair, tugging my head back.
“What do you want to tell me?” she purrs, icy blue eyes boring into mine.
I’m broken. My knees are sore. My back is covered in welts. My thighs ache. I can’t take any more. And she’s looking directly into my eyes. Waiting.
“I want to leave Harvard, Ma’am,” I say. And it’s a dark confession. Harvard had always been a goal. For me. For my folks. Just to show them I could do it. Just to prove to them I wasn’t the fuckup they thought I was.
“Leave? School?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She lets go of my hair and swings the flogger from side to side.
“What will you do?”
“I want to start my own business.”
She runs a scarlet fingernail down my cheek, to my mouth. “I knew something was bothering you. I always have to beat it out of you, don’t I?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Get dressed. Let’s talk about this.”
I shake my head. Now is not the time to think about Elena. I turn to other e-mails.
WHEN I LOOK UP, it’s ten thirty.
Ana.
I’ve been lost in the final SIP contract. I wonder if I should make it a condition of sale to get rid of Hyde, but that might be actionable.
I get up, stretch, and head into the bedroom.
Ana’s not there.
She wasn’t in the living room. I run upstairs to the submissive’s room, but it’s empty. Shit.
Where could she be? Library?
I hurtle back down the stairs.
I find her curled up asleep in one of the wing-backed library chairs. She’s dressed in pale pink satin, her hair spilling down over her chest. On her lap is an open book.
Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca.
I smile. My grandfather Theodore’s family comes from Cornwall, hence my Daphne du Maurier collection.
I lift Ana into my arms. “Hey. You fell asleep. I couldn’t find you.” As I kiss her hair she puts her arms around my neck and says something I don’t understand. I carry her through to my bedroom and tuck her into bed.
“Sleep, baby.” Softly I kiss her forehead and head for the shower.
I want to wash this day off my body.