by E. L. James
“For later, Ana. Tuna, okay?”
“Oh yes. Thank you, Mrs. Jones.” I give her a shy smile, which she reciprocates warmly before leaving the great room. I suspect it’s to give us some privacy.
“Can I ask you something?” I turn back to Christian.
His amused expression slips. “Of course.”
“And you won’t be angry?”
“Is it about Elena?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t be angry.”
“But I now have a supplementary question.”
“Oh?”
“Which is about her.”
He rolls his eyes. “What?” he says, and now he’s exasperated.
“Why do you get so mad when I ask you about her?”
“Honestly?”
I scowl at him. “I thought you were always honest with me.”
“I endeavor to be.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “That sounds like a very evasive answer.”
“I am always honest with you, Ana. I don’t want to play games. Well, not those sorts of games,” he qualifies, as his eyes heat.
“What sort of games do you want to play?”
He inclines his head to one side and smirks at me. “Miss Steele, you are so easily distracted.”
I giggle. He’s right. “Mr. Grey, you are distracting on so many levels.” I gaze at his dancing gray eyes alight with humor.
“My favorite sound in the whole world is your giggle, Anastasia. Now—what was your original question?” he asks smoothly, and I think he’s laughing at me. I try to twist my mouth to show my displeasure, but I like playful Fifty—he’s fun. I love some early morning banter. I frown, trying to recall my question.
“Oh yes. You only saw your subs on the weekends?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” he says regarding me nervously.
I grin at him. “So, no sex during the week.”
He laughs. “Oh, that’s where we’re going with this.” He looks vaguely relieved. “Why do you think I work out every weekday?” Now he really is laughing at me, but I don’t care. I want to hug myself with glee. Another first—well, several firsts.
“You look very pleased with yourself, Miss Steele.”
“I am, Mr. Grey.”
“You should be.” He grins. “Now eat your breakfast.”
Oh, bossy Fifty … he’s never far away.
WE ARE IN THE back of the Audi. Taylor is driving with the intention of dropping me off at work, then Christian. Sawyer is riding shotgun.
“Didn’t you say your roommate’s brother was arriving today?” Christian asks, almost casually, his voice and expression giving nothing away.
“Oh, Ethan,” I gasp. “I forgot. Oh Christian, thank you for reminding me. I’ll have to go back to the apartment.”
His face falls. “What time?”
“I’m not sure what time he’s arriving.”
“I don’t want you going anywhere on your own,” he says sharply.
“I know,” I mutter and resist rolling my eyes at Mr. Overreaction. “Will Sawyer be spying—um … patrolling today?” I glance slyly in Sawyer’s direction to see the backs of his ears turn red.
“Yes,” Christian snaps, his eyes glacial.
“If I were driving the Saab it would be easier,” I mutter petulantly.
“Sawyer will have a car, and he can drive you to your apartment, depending on what time.”
“Okay. I think Ethan will probably contact me during the day. I’ll let you know what the plans are then.”
He gazes at me, saying nothing. Oh, what is he thinking?
“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Nowhere on your own. Do you understand?” He waves a finger at me.
“Yes, dear,” I mutter.
There’s a trace of a smile on his face. “And maybe you should just use your BlackBerry—I’ll e-mail you on it. That should prevent my IT guy having a thoroughly interesting morning, okay?” His voice is sardonic.
“Yes, Christian.” I can’t resist. I roll my eyes at him, and he smirks at me.
“Why Miss Steele, I do believe you’re making my palm twitch.”
“Ah, Mr. Grey, your perpetually twitching palm. What are we going to do with that?”
He laughs and then is distracted by his BlackBerry, which must be on vibrate because it doesn’t ring. He frowns when he sees the caller ID.
“What is it?” he snaps into the phone, then listens intently. I use the opportunity to study his lovely features—his straight nose, his hair hanging scruffily over his forehead. I am distracted from my surreptitious ogling by his expression, which turns from incredulity to amusement. I pay attention.
“You’re kidding … For a scene … When did he tell you this?” Christian chuckles, almost reluctantly. “No, don’t worry. You don’t have to apologize. I’m glad there’s a logical explanation. It did seem a ridiculously low amount of money … I have no doubt you’ve something evil and creative planned for your revenge. Poor Isaac.” He smiles. “Good … Good-bye.” He snaps the phone shut and glances at me. His eyes are suddenly wary, but oddly, he looks relieved, too.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“You really want to know?” he asks quietly.
With that response, I know. I shake my head and stare out my window at the gray Seattle day, feeling forlorn. Why can’t she leave him alone?
“Hey.” He reaches for my hand and kisses each of my knuckles in turn, and suddenly he’s sucking my little finger, hard. Then biting it softly.
Whoa! He has a hotline to my groin, I gasp and glance nervously at Taylor and Sawyer, then at Christian, and his eyes are darker. He gives me a slow, carnal smile.
“Don’t sweat it, Anastasia,” he murmurs. “She’s in the past.” And he plants a kiss in the center of my palm, sending tingles everywhere, and my momentary pique is forgotten.
“MORNING, ANA,” JACK MUTTERS as I make my way to my desk. “Nice dress.”
I flush. The dress is part of my new wardrobe, courtesy of my incredibly rich boyfriend. It’s a sleeveless shift dress of pale blue linen, quite fitted, and I’m wearing cream high-heeled sandals. Christian likes heels, I think. I smile secretly at the thought but quickly recover my bland professional smile for my boss.
“Good morning, Jack.”
I set about ordering a messenger to take his brochure to the printers. He pops his head around his office door.
“Could I have a coffee, please, Ana?”
“Sure.” I wander into the kitchen and bump into Claire from Reception, who is also fixing coffee.
“Hey, Ana,” she says cheerfully.
“Hi, Claire.”
We chat briefly about her extended-family gathering over the weekend, which she enjoyed immensely, and I tell her about sailing with Christian.
“Your boyfriend is so dreamy, Ana,” she says, her eyes glazing over.
I am tempted to roll my eyes at her.
“He’s not bad-looking.” I smile and we both start laughing.
“YOU TOOK YOUR TIME!” Jack snaps when I bring in his coffee.
Oh! “I’m sorry.” I flush, then frown. I took the usual amount of time. What’s his problem? Perhaps he’s nervous about something.
He shakes his head. “Sorry, Ana. I didn’t mean to bark at you, honey.”
Honey?
“There’s something going on at senior management level, and I don’t know what it is. Keep your ear to the ground, okay? If you hear anything—I know how you girls talk.” He grins at me, and I feel slightly sick. He has no idea how we “girls” talk. Besides, I know what’s happening.
“You’ll let me know, right?”
“Sure,” I mutter. “I’ve sent the brochure to the printers. It will be back by two o’clock.”
“Great. Here.” He hands me a pile of manuscripts. “All these need synopses of the first chapter, then filing.”
“I’ll get on it.”
I am relieved to step out of his office and sit down at
my desk. Oh, it’s hard being in the know. What will he do when he finds out? My blood runs cold. Something tells me Jack will be annoyed. I glance at my BlackBerry and smile. There’s an e-mail from Christian.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sunrise
Date: June 14 2011 09:23
To: Anastasia Steele
I love waking up with you in the morning.
Christian Grey
Completely & Utterly Smitten CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I think my face splits in two with my grin.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Sundown
Date: June 14 2011 09:35
To: Christian Grey
Dear Completely & Utterly Smitten
I love waking up with you, too. But I love being in bed with you and in elevators and on pianos and billiard tables and boats and desks and showers and bathtubs and strange wooden crosses with shackles and four-poster beds with red satin sheets and boathouses and childhood bedrooms.
Yours
Sex Mad and Insatiable xx
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Wet Hardware
Date: June 14 2011 09:37
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Sex Mad and Insatiable
I’ve just spat coffee all over my keyboard.
I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.
I do admire a woman who concentrates on geography.
Am I to infer you just want me for my body?
Christian Grey
Completely & Utterly Shocked CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Giggling—and wet too
Date: June 14 2011 09:42
To: Christian Grey
Dear Completely & Utterly Shocked
Always.
I have work to do.
Stop bothering me.
SM&I xx
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Do I have to?
Date: June 14 2011 09:50
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear SM&I
As ever, your wish is my command.
Love that you are giggling and wet.
Laters, baby.
x
Christian Grey,
Completely & Utterly Smitten, Shocked, and Spellbound
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I put the BlackBerry down and get on with my work.
AT LUNCHTIME JACK ASKS me to go down to the deli for him. I call Christian as soon as I leave Jack’s office.
“Anastasia.” He answers immediately, his voice warm and caressing. How is it that this man can make me melt over the phone?
“Christian, Jack has asked me to get his lunch.”
“Lazy bastard,” Christian gripes.
I ignore him and continue. “So, I’m going to get it. It might be handy if you gave me Sawyer’s number, so I don’t have to bother you.”
“It’s no bother, baby.”
“Are you on your own?”
“No. There are six people staring at me right now wondering who the hell I’m talking to.”
Shit … “Really?” I gasp, panicked.
“Yes. Really. My girlfriend,” he announces away from the phone.
Holy cow! “They probably all thought you were gay, you know.”
He laughs. “Yeah, probably.” I hear his grin.
“Er—I’d better go.” I am sure he can tell how embarrassed I am to be interrupting him.
“I’ll let Sawyer know.” He laughs again. “Have you heard from your friend?”
“Not yet. You’ll be the first to know, Mr. Grey.”
“Good. Laters, baby.”
“Bye, Christian.” I grin. Every time he says that, it makes me smile … so un-Fifty, but somehow so him, too.
WHEN I EXIT SECONDS later, Sawyer is waiting on the doorstep of the building.
“Miss Steele,” he greets me formally.
“Sawyer.” I nod in response and together we head down to the deli.
I don’t feel as comfortable with Sawyer as I do with Taylor. He keeps scanning the street as we make our way along the block. It actually makes me more nervous, and I find myself mirroring his actions.
Is Leila out there? Or are we all infected by Christian’s paranoia? Is this part of his fifty shades? What I’d give for half an hour of candid discussion with Dr. Flynn to find out.
There’s nothing amiss, just lunchtime Seattle—people rushing for lunch, shopping, meeting friends. I watch two young women hug as they meet up.
I miss Kate. It’s only been two weeks since she left for her vacation, but it feels like the longest two weeks of my life. So much has happened—she’ll never believe me when I tell her. Well, tell her the edited, NDA-compliant version. I frown. I’ll have to talk to Christian about that. What would Kate make of it? I blanch at the thought. Perhaps she’ll be back with Ethan. I feel a rush of excitement at the thought, but I think it’s unlikely. She’d probably stay on with Elliot.
“Where do you stand when you’re waiting and watching outside?” I ask Sawyer as we get in line for lunch. Sawyer is in front of me, facing the door, continually monitoring the street and anyone who comes in. It’s unnerving.
“I sit in the coffee shop directly across the street, Miss Steele.”
“Doesn’t it get very boring?”
“Not to me, ma’am. It’s what I do,” he says stiffly.
I flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply …” My voice trails off at his kind, understanding expression.
“Please, Miss Steele. My job is to protect you. And that’s what I’ll do.”
“So, no sign of Leila?”
“No, ma’am.”
I frown. “How do you know what she looks like?”
“I’ve seen her photograph.”
“Oh, do you have it on you?”
“No, ma’am.” He taps his skull. “Committed to memory.”
Of course. I’d really like to examine a photograph of Leila to see what she looked like before she became Ghost Girl. I wonder if Christian would let me have a copy? Yes, he probably would—for my safety. I hatch a plan, and my subconscious gloats and nods approvingly.
THE BROCHURES ARRIVE BACK at the office, and to my relief they look great. I take one into Jack’s office. His eyes light up; I don’t know if it’s at me or the brochure. I choose to believe it’s the latter.
“These look great, Ana.” Idly, he flicks through it. “Yeah, good job. Are you seeing your boyfriend this evening?” His lip curls as he says “boyfriend.”
“Yes. We live together.” It’s sort of the truth. Well, we do at the moment. And I have officially agreed to move in, so it’s not much of a white lie. I hope that it’s enough to throw him off the scent.
“Would he object to you coming out for a quick drink tonight? To celebrate all your hard work?”
“I have a friend coming in from out of town tonight, and we’re all going out for dinner.” And I’ll be busy every night, Jack.
“I see.” He sighs, exasperated. “Maybe when I’m back from New York, huh?” He raises his eyebrows in expectation, and his gaze darkens suggestively.
Oh no. I smile, noncommittal, stifling a shudder.
“Would you like some coffee or tea?” I ask.
“Coffee, please.” His voice is low and husky as if he’s asking for something else. Fuck. He’s not going to back off. I can see that now. Oh … What to do?
I breathe a long sigh of relief when I am out of his office. He makes me tense. Christian is right about him, and part of me is pissed that Christian is right about him.
I sit down at my desk and my BlackBerry rings—a number I don’t recognize.
“Ana Steele.”
“Hi, Steele!” Ethan’s drawl catches me momentarily off guard.
“Ethan! How are you?�
�� I almost squeal with delight.
“Glad to be back. I am seriously fed up with sunshine and rum punches, and my baby sister being hopelessly in love with the big guy. It’s been hell, Ana.”
“Yeah! Sea, sand, sun, and rum punches sounds like Dante’s Inferno.” I giggle. “Where are you?”
“I’m at Sea-Tac, waiting for my bag. What are you doing?”
“I’m at work. Yes, I am gainfully employed,” I respond to his gasp. “Do you want to come here and collect the keys? I can meet you later at the apartment.”
“Sounds great. I’ll see you in about forty-five minutes, an hour maybe? What’s the address?”
I give him SIP’s address.
“See you soon, Ethan.”
“Laters,” he says and hangs up. What? Not Ethan, too? And it dawns on me that he’s just spent a week with Elliot. I quickly type an e-mail to Christian.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Visitors from Sunny Climes.
Date: June 14 2011 14:55
To: Christian Grey
Dearest Completely & Utterly SS&S
Ethan is back, and he’s coming here to collect keys to the apartment.
I’d really like to make sure he’s settled in okay.
Why don’t you pick me up after work? We can go to the apartment, then we can ALL go out for a meal maybe?
My treat?
