by E. L. James
"I'm glad you like them. Sometimes, when I can't sleep I'll either play the piano or trawl iTunes."
"I don't like to think about you unable to sleep and on your own. It sounds lonely," Ana says, her compassion showing.
"To be honest, I never felt lonely until you left. I didn't realize how miserable I was."
She cups my face. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, Ana. What I did was wrong."
She puts her finger over my lips. "Hush," she says. "I love you just the way you are."
"That's a song."
She laughs and she changes the subject; asking me about work.
"WE'VE COME A LONG way," Ana says, caressing my face.
"We have."
She looks wistful all of a sudden.
"What are you thinking about?" I ask.
"The photo shoot that Jose did. Kate. How in command she was. And how hot you looked."
"Hot?" Me?
"Yeah. Hot. And Kate was all: Sit here. Do this. Do that." Her impersonation of Kavanagh is spot on. I laugh.
"To think it could have been her who came to interview me. Thank the Lord for the common cold." I kiss the tip of her nose.
"I believe she had the flu, Christian," she scolds, and unconsciously trails her fingers through my chest hair. It's weird, but I think she's driven the darkness away. I don't even flinch. "All the canes have gone," she says, as she glances around the playroom. I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"I didn't think you'd ever get past that hard limit."
"No, I don't think I will." She turns and stares at the whips, paddles, and floggers on the wall.
"You want me to get rid of them, too?" I ask.
"Not the crop...the brown one. Or that suede flogger." She gives me a coy smile.
"Okay, the crop and the flogger. Why, Miss Steele, you're full of surprises."
"As are you, Mr. Grey. It's one of the things I love about you." She kisses the corner of my mouth.
Suddenly I need to hear this from her, because I still can't quite believe it. "What else do you love about me?"
Her eyes soften with her affection. "This," she says, and traces her finger across my lips, tickling them. "I love this, and what comes out of it, and what you do to me with it. And what's in here." She strokes the side of my head. "You're so smart and witty and knowledgeable, competent in so many things. But most of all, I love what's in here." She presses her palm against my chest. "You are the most compassionate man I've ever met. What you do. How you work. It's awe-inspiring."
"Awe-inspiring?" I repeat her last words, not quite believing them but loving them anyway. A slow smile tugs at my mouth, but before I can say anything she launches herself at me.
ANA DOZES FOR A few minutes, in my arms. I lie staring up at the ceiling, enjoying her weight on me. Could I be any more content? I don't think so. She wakes when I kiss her forehead.
"Hungry?" I ask.
"Hmm, famished."
"Me, too."
She puts her arm on my chest and studies me. "It's your birthday, Mr. Grey. I'll cook you something. What would you like?"
"Surprise me." I run my hand down her back. "I should check my BlackBerry for all the messages I missed yesterday." I sigh when I sit up. I could spend all day with her in here.
"Let's shower," I say.
She grins and together, wrapped in one red sheet, we head down to the bathroom.
Once Ana is dressed she takes all the wet clothes from last night out of her sink and heads out the door. Wearing a tiny blue dress, she's all legs.
Too much leg.
Well at least it's just us.
And Taylor.
I stop shaving for a moment. "Leave them for Mrs. Jones," I call after her. She glances over her shoulder and smiles.
FEELING BUOYANT, I SIT down at my desk. Ana is working in the kitchen, and I have a ton of e-mails and messages to get through. Most are from Sam, annoyed that I've not called him. But there are others...moving messages from my mother, from Mia, my dad, and Elliot, all begging me to call. It's painful to hear their concern.
And Elena.
Shit.
Ana's hesitant voice is next.
Hi...um...it's me. Ana. Are you okay? Call me. Her concern is obvious. My heart constricts as it becomes blindingly clear that I've put her and my family through hell.
Grey, you're an idiot.
You should have called.
I save all the messages bar Elena's and return to the most important voice mail, from the florist in Bellevue. I call them back to outline my requirements, and I'm relieved that they can help me, given such short notice.
Then I call my favorite jewelry store. Okay, the only jewelry store I know. I purchased Ana's earrings there, and it looks like they'll be able to help me with the ring.
If I were a superstitious man I would say that these are good omens for what's to come.
Next, I call Sam.
"Mr. Grey, where have you been?" He's pissed. Tough.
"Busy."
"The press has been all over the helicopter story. There are several TV news and print outlets that want an interview--"
"Sam--draw up a statement. Tell them Ros and I are fine. And send it through to me for approval. I'm not interested in doing any interviews. Print, TV, or otherwise."
"But, Christian, this is a great opp--"
"The answer's no. Get me the statement."
He's silent for a moment, publicity whore that he is. "Yes, Mr. Grey," he says, tight-lipped. I hear, and ignore, his reluctance, but I'm beginning to think I need a new PR person. His credentials were seriously overstated when we checked his references.
"Thanks, Sam." I hang up.
I buzz Taylor on the internal phone system.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Grey."
"What news?"
"I'll come down, sir."
Taylor tells me that Charlie Tango has been found, and that a recovery crew is on its way with an FAA official and someone from Airbus, Charlie Tango's manufacturer.
"I hope they'll be able to provide some answers."
"I'm sure they will, sir," says Taylor. "I've e-mailed you a list of people you should call."
"Thanks. There's one more thing. I'm going to need you to pop down to this store." I explain what I've discussed with the jeweler. Taylor gives me a broad grin.
"With pleasure, sir. Will that be all?"
"For now, yes. And thanks."
"You're most welcome, and happy birthday." He gives me a nod and leaves.
I pick up the phone and start making my way through Taylor's list of calls.
While I'm on the phone giving a report to the FAA, an e-mail from Ana pops up.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Lunch
Date: June 18 2011 13:12
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey
I am e-mailing to inform you that your lunch is nearly ready.
And that I had some mind-blowing, kinky fuckery earlier today.
Birthday kinky fuckery is to be recommended.
And another thing--I love you.
A x
(Your fiancee)
I'm sure Mrs. Wilson on the other end of the phone at the FAA can hear my smile. With one finger, I type a response.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Kinky Fuckery
Date: June 18 2011 13:15
To: Anastasia Steele
What aspect was most mind-blowing?
I'm taking notes.
Christian Grey
Famished and Wasting Away After the Morning's Exertions CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
P.S.: I love your signature.
P.P.S.: What happened to the art of conversation?
I conclude the phone call with Mrs. Wilson and leave my study to find Ana.
She's concentrating hard. I tiptoe up to the kitchen counter as she types into her phone. She presses send, looks u
p, and jumps when she sees me smirking at her. I bound around the kitchen island, pull her into my arms, and kiss her, taking her by surprise once more. "That is all, Miss Steele," I say when I release her, and I stroll back into my study feeling ridiculously pleased with myself.
Her e-mail is waiting.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Famished?
Date: June 18 2011 13:18
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey
May I draw your attention to the first line of my previous e-mail informing you that your lunch is indeed almost ready...so none of this famished and wasting away nonsense. With regard to the mind-blowing aspects of the kinky fuckery...frankly--all of it. I'd be interested in reading your notes. And I like my bracketed signature, too.
A x
(Your fiancee)
P.S.: Since when have you been so loquacious? And you're on the phone!
I call my mom to tell her about the flowers.
"Darling, how are you? Recovered? It's all over the press."
"I know, Mom. I'm fine. I have something to tell you."
"What?"
"I've asked Ana to marry me. She's said yes."
My mother is stunned into silence.
"Mom?"
"Christian, I'm sorry. That's wonderful news," she says, but she sounds a little hesitant.
"I know this is sudden."
"Are you sure, darling? Don't get me wrong, I adore Ana. But this is so soon and she's the first girl--"
"Mom. She's not the first girl. She's the first one you've met."
"Oh."
"Exactly."
"Well, I am delighted for you. Congratulations."
"There's one more thing."
"What is it, love?"
"I'm having some flowers delivered, for the boathouse."
"Why?"
"Well, my first proposal was pretty crap."
"Oh, I see."
"And, Mom--don't tell anyone else. I want it to be a surprise. I plan to make an announcement this evening."
"As you wish, darling. Mia is in charge of deliveries for the party. Let me find her."
I wait for what feels like an eternity.
Come on, Mia.
"Hey, big brother. Thank God you are still with us. What gives?"
"Mom tells me you are coordinating deliveries for my party. How big is this bash, anyway?"
"After your near-death experience, we're celebrating."
Oh, hell.
"Well, I have a delivery coming for the boathouse."
"Yes? What?"
"From the Bellevue Florist."
"Why? What for?"
Christ, she can be annoying. I look up and Ana is standing in her short, short dress staring at me. "Just let them in and leave them alone. Do you understand, Mia?"
Ana cocks her head to one side, listening.
"Okay. Don't get your panties in a wad. I'll send them to the boathouse."
"Good."
Ana mimes eating.
Food. Great.
"I'll see you later," I say to Mia and hang up. "One more call?" I ask Ana.
"Sure."
"That dress is very short."
"You like it?" Ana pirouettes in the doorway and her skirt flares up, providing a tantalizing glimpse of her lacy underwear.
"You look fantastic in it, Ana. I just don't want anyone else to see you like that."
"Oh!" She looks upset. "We're at home, Christian. No one but the staff."
I don't want to upset her. I nod as graciously as I can manage and she turns and heads back to the kitchen.
Grey, get a grip.
The next call I have to make is to Ana's father. I have no idea what he's going to say when I ask him for his daughter's hand in marriage. From Ana's file, I get Ray's mobile number. Jose said he was fishing. I just hope he's somewhere with a signal.
No. He isn't. The call goes to voice mail. "Ray Steele. Leave a message."
Short and to the point.
"Hi, Mr. Steele, it's Christian Grey here. I'd like to talk to you about your daughter. Please call me." I give him my number and hang up.
What did you expect, Grey?
He's in the wilds of the Mount Baker Park.
While I have Ana's file on my desk, I decide to deposit some money into her bank account. She'll have to get used to having money.
"Twenty-four thousand dollars!"
"Twenty-four thousand dollars, to the lovely lady in silver, going once, going twice. Sold!"
I chuckle, remembering her audacity at the auction. I wonder what she'll make of this. I'm sure it will be an interesting discussion. On my computer, I transfer fifty thousand dollars to her account. It should show up within the hour.
My stomach growls. I'm hungry. But my phone starts ringing. It's Ray. "Mr. Steele. Thank you for calling back--"
"Is Annie okay?"
"She's fine. More than fine. She's great."
"Thank the Lord. What can I do for you, Christian?"
"I know you're fishing."
"I'm trying. Not catching much today."
"I'm sorry to hear that." This is more nerve-racking than I anticipated. My palms are sweating and Mr. Steele says nothing, cranking my anxiety up a notch.
Supposing he says no? This is not something I've considered.
"Mr. Steele?"
"I'm still here, Christian, waiting for you to get to the point."
"Yes. Of course. Um. I called because, um, I'd like your permission to marry your daughter." The words tumble out like I've never negotiated or clinched a deal in my life. What's more, they're met with a resounding silence.
"Mr. Steele?"
"Put my daughter on the line," he says, giving nothing away.
Shit.
"Just a minute." I dart out of my study to where Ana is waiting, and hold out the phone to her. "I have Ray for you."
Her eyes widen with shock. She takes the phone and covers the mouthpiece. "You told him!" she squeaks.
I nod.
She takes a deep breath, and removes her hand from the mouthpiece. "Hi, Dad."
She listens.
She seems calm.
"What did you say?" she asks, and listens again, her eyes on me. "Yes. It is sudden. Hang on." She gives me another unreadable look and heads to the other end of the room and out onto the balcony, where she continues her conversation.
She starts pacing up and down, but she stays close to the window.
And I'm helpless. All I can do is watch her.
Her body language gives nothing away. Suddenly, she stops and beams. Her smile could light Seattle. He's either said yes...or no.
Hell.
Damn it, Grey. Stop with the negative.
She says something else. And she looks like she's going to cry.
Shit. That's not good.
She stomps back and she shoves the phone at me, looking several shades of pissed off.
Nervously, I put the phone to my ear. "Mr. Steele?" Feeling Ana's gaze on my back, I wander into my study just in case it's bad news.
"Christian, I think you ought to call me Ray. Sounds like my little girl is crazy about you and I'm not one to get in her way."
Crazy about you. My heart flips and soars.
"Well, thank you, sir."
"You hurt her in any way and I'll kill you."
"I'd expect nothing less."
"Crazy kids," he mutters. "Now you take good care of her. Annie is my light."
"She's mine, too...Ray."
"And good luck with telling her mother." He laughs. "Now let me get back to my fishing."
"I hope you top the forty-three-pounder."
"You know about that?"
"Jose told me."
"He's a talkative guy. Good day, Christian."
"It is now." I grin.
"I HAVE YOUR STEPFATHER'S rather begrudging blessing," I announce to Ana in the kitchen. She laughs and shakes her head.
"I think
Ray is freaked out," she says. "I've got to tell my mom. But I'd like to do that on a full stomach." She waves in the direction of the counter where our food is waiting. Salmon, potatoes, salad, and an interesting dip. She's also selected some wine. A Chablis. "Well, this looks great." I open the wine and pour us each a small glass.
"Damn, you're a good cook, woman." I raise my glass to Ana in appreciation. Her lighthearted expression fades and I'm reminded of the expression on her face outside the playroom this morning. "Ana? Why did you ask me not to take your photo?"
Her consternation deepens, worrying me. "Ana, what is it?" My tone is sharper than I intended and she jumps.
"I found your photos," she says, as if she's committed some terrible sin.
What photos? But as I say the words, I realize exactly what she's talking about. And I feel like I'm back in my father's study, waiting for a pompous dressing-down for some infraction I've committed.
"You've been in the safe?" How the hell did she do that?
"Safe? No. I didn't know you had a safe."
"I don't understand."
"In your closet. The box. I was looking for your tie, and the box was under your jeans. The ones you normally wear in the playroom...Except today."
Fuck.
No one should see those photographs. Especially Ana. How did they get there?
Leila.
"It's not what you think. I'd forgotten all about them. That box had been moved. Those photographs belong in my safe."
"Who moved them?" Ana asks.
"There's only one person who could have done that."
"Oh. Who? And what do you mean it's not what I think?"
Confess, Grey.
You've already alluded to the depths of your depravity.
This is it, baby. Fifty shades.
"This is going to sound cold, but--they're an insurance policy."
"Insurance policy?"
"Against exposure."
I watch her face as she realizes what I mean. "Oh." She closes her eyes as if she's trying to erase what I've told her. "Yes. You're right," she says quietly. "That does sound cold." She stands and starts to clear the dishes; it's to avoid me.
"Ana."
"Do they know? The girls. The subs?"
"Of course they know."
Before she can escape to the sink, I fold her into my arms. "Those photos are supposed to be in the safe. They're not for recreational use."
They were once upon a time, Grey.
"Maybe they were when they were taken originally. But--they don't mean anything."
"Who put them in your closet?"
"It could only have been Leila."
"She knows your safe combination?"
I guess. "It wouldn't surprise me. It's a very long combination, and I use it so rarely. It's the one number I have written down and haven't changed. I wonder what else she knows and if she's taken anything else out of there." I'll check it. "Look, I'll destroy the photos. Now, if you like."
