by E. L. James
"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 woul
dn'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 YouTM
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 th
e 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.
TUESDAY, JUNE 14, 2011
* * *
Suddenly I'm awake; my heart is pounding and a deep unease tightens my gut. I'm lying naked beside Ana, and she's fast asleep. Lord, I envy her ability to sleep. My bedside light is still on, the clock reads 1:45, and I cannot shake my disquiet.
Leila?
I dart into my closet and drag on pants and a T-shirt. Back in the bedroom I check under the bed. The balcony door is locked. I hurry down the corridor to Taylor's office. The door is open, so I knock and look in. Ryan stands, surprised to see me. "Good evening, sir."
"Hi, Ryan. Everything okay?"
"Yes, sir. All's quiet."
"Nothing on the--" I point to the CCTV monitors.
"Nothing, sir. The place is secure. Reynolds just did a walk-through."
"Good. Thanks."
"You're welcome, Mr. Grey."
I shut his door and go into the kitchen for a glass of water. Looking out across the living room toward the windows and the darkness beyond, I take a sip.
Where are you, Leila?
I see her in my mind's eye, head bowed. Willing. Waiting. Wanting. Kneeling in my playroom, asleep in her room, kneeling by my side as I work in my study. And now for all I know she's wandering the streets of Seattle, cold and lonely and acting crazy.
Maybe I'm uneasy because Ana's agreed to move in.
I can protect her. But she doesn't want that.
I shake my head. Anastasia is challenging.
She's very challenging.
Welcome to falling in love. Flynn's words haunt me. So this is what it's like. Confusing, exhilarating, exhausting.
I walk over to my grand piano and lower the top board to cover the strings as quietly as I can. I don't want to wake her. I sit down and stare at the keys. I haven't played for a few days. I place my fingers on the keys and start to play. As Chopin's nocturne in B-flat minor quietly fills the room, I'm alone with the melancholy music and it soothes my soul.
