by E. L. James
Kate whistles loudly. “Nice place.”
I glance around to see Elliot helping Taylor with our luggage. I wonder again if she knows that Gia had a hand in this place.
“Tour?” Christian asks me, and whatever was going through his mind about Mia and Ethan is gone. He’s radiating excitement—or is it anxiety? It’s difficult to tell.
“Sure.” Once again I’m overwhelmed by the wealth. How much did this place cost? And I have contributed nothing to it. Briefly I’m transported back to the first time Christian took me to Escala. I was overwhelmed then. You got used to it, my subconscious hisses at me.
Christian frowns but takes my hand, leading me through the various rooms. The state-of-the-art kitchen is all pale marble countertops and black cupboards. There’s an impressive wine cellar, and an expansive den downstairs, complete with a large plasma screen TV, soft couches … and a billiards table. I gape at it and blush when Christian catches me.
“Fancy a game?” he asks, a wicked gleam in his eye. I shake my head, and his brow furrows once more. Taking my hand again, he leads me up to the first floor. There are four bedrooms upstairs, each with an en suite bathroom.
The master suite is something else. The bed is huge, bigger than the bed at home, and faces an enormous picture window looking out over Aspen and toward the verdant mountains.
“That’s Ajax Mountain … or Aspen Mountain, if you like,” Christian says, eyeing me warily. He’s standing in the doorway, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops on his black jeans.
I nod.
“You’re very quiet,” he murmurs.
“It’s lovely, Christian.” And suddenly I’m aching to be back at Escala.
In five long strides he’s standing in front of me, tugging at my chin, and releasing my lower lip from the grip of my teeth. “What is it?” he asks, his eyes searching mine. “You’re very rich.”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes, it just takes me by surprise how wealthy you are.”
“We are.”
“We are,” I mutter automatically.
“Don’t stress about this, Ana, please. It’s just a house.”
“And what did Gia do here, exactly?”
“Gia?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
“Yes. She remodeled this place?”
“She did. She designed the den downstairs. Elliot did the build.” He rakes his hand through his hair and frowns at me. “Why are we talking about Gia?”
“Did you know she had a fling with Elliot?”
Christian gazes at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Elliot’s fucked most of Seattle, Ana.”
I gasp.
“Mainly women, I understand,” Christian jokes. I think he’s amused by my expression.
“No!”
Christian nods. “It’s none of my business.” He holds his palms up.
“I don’t think Kate knows.”
“I’m not sure he broadcasts that information. Kate seems to be holding her own.”
I’m shocked. Sweet, unassuming, blond, blue-eyed Elliot? I stare in disbelief.
Christian tilts his head to one side, scrutinizing me. “This can’t just be about Gia’s or Elliot’s promiscuity.”
“I know. I’m sorry. After all that’s happened this week, it’s just …” I shrug, feeling tearful all of a sudden. Christian seems to sag with relief. Pulling me into his arms, he holds me tightly, his nose in my hair.
“I know. I’m sorry, too. Let’s relax and enjoy ourselves, okay? You can stay here and read, watch god-awful TV, shop, go hiking—fishing even. Whatever you want to do. And forget what I said about Elliot. That was indiscreet of me.”
“Goes some way to explain why he’s always teasing you,” I murmur, nuzzling his chest.
“He really has no idea about my past. I told you, my family assumed I was gay. Celibate, but gay.”
I giggle and begin to relax in his arms. “I thought you were celibate. How wrong I was.” I wrap my arms around him, marveling at the ridiculousness of Christian’s being gay.
“Mrs. Grey, are you smirking at me?”
“Maybe a little.” I acquiesce. “You know, what I don’t understand is why you have this place.”
“What do you mean?” He kisses my hair.
“You have the boat, which I get, you have the place in New York for business—but why here? It’s not like you shared it with anyone.”
Christian stills and is silent for several beats. “I was waiting for you,” he says softly, his eyes dark gray and luminous.
“That’s … that’s such a lovely thing to say.”
“It’s true. I didn’t know it at the time.” He smiles his shy smile.
“I’m glad you waited.”
“You are worth waiting for, Mrs. Grey.” He tips my chin up with his finger, leans down, and kisses me tenderly.
“So are you.” I smile. “Though I feel like I cheated. I didn’t have to wait long for you at all.”
He grins. “Am I that much of a prize?”
“Christian, you are the state lottery, the cure for cancer, and the three wishes from Aladdin’s lamp all rolled into one.”
He raises a brow.
“When will you realize this?” I scold him. “You were a very eligible bachelor. And I don’t mean all this.” I wave dismissively at our plush surroundings. “I mean in here.” I place my hand over his heart, and his eyes widen. My confident, sexy husband has gone, and I’m facing my lost boy. “Believe me, Christian, please,” I whisper and clasp his face, pulling his lips to mine. He groans, and I don’t know if it’s hearing what I’ve said or his usual primal response. I claim him, my lips moving against his, my tongue invading his mouth.
When we’re both breathless, he pulls away, eyeing me doubtfully.
“When are you going to get it through your exceptionally thick skull that I love you?” I ask, exasperated.
He swallows. “One day,” he says.
This is progress. I smile and am rewarded with his answering shy smile.
“Come. Let’s have some lunch—the others will be wondering where we are. We can discuss what we all want to do.”
“OH NO!” KATE SAYS suddenly.
All eyes turn to her.
“Look,” she says, pointing to the picture window. Outside, rain has started pouring down. We are sitting around the dark wood table in the kitchen, having consumed an Italian feast of a mixed antipasto, prepared by Mrs. Bentley, and a bottle or two of Frascati. I’m replete and a little buzzed from the alcohol.
“There goes our hike,” Elliot mutters, sounding vaguely relieved. Kate scowls at him. Something is definitely up with them. They have been relaxed with all of us but not with each other.
“We could go into town,” Mia pipes up. Ethan smirks at her.
“Perfect weather for fishing,” Christian suggests.
“I’ll go fish,” Ethan says.
“Let’s split up.” Mia claps her hands. “Girls, shopping—boys, outdoor boring stuff.”
I glance at Kate, who regards Mia indulgently. Fishing or shopping? Jeez, what a choice.
“Ana, what do you want to do?” Christian asks.
“I don’t mind,” I lie.
Kate catches my eye and mouths “shopping.” Perhaps she wants to talk.
“But I’m more than happy to go shopping.” I smile wryly at Kate and Mia. Christian smirks. He knows I hate shopping.
“I can stay here with you, if you’d like,” he murmurs, and something dark unfurls in my belly at his tone.
“No, you go fish,” I answer. Christian needs boy time.
“Sounds like a plan,” Kate says, rising from the table.
“Taylor will accompany you,” Christian says, and it’s a given—not up for discussion.
“We don’t need babysitting,” Kate retorts bluntly, direct as ever.
I put my hand on Kate’s arm. “Kate, Taylor should come.”
She frowns, then shrugs, and for once in
her life holds her tongue.
I smile timidly at Christian. His expression remains impassive. Oh, I hope he’s not mad at Kate.
Elliot frowns. “I need to pick up a battery for my watch in town.” He glances quickly at Kate, and I spot his slight blush. She doesn’t notice because she is pointedly ignoring him.
“Take the Audi, Elliot. When you come back we can go fishing,” Christian says.
“Yeah,” Elliot mutters, but he seems distracted. “Good plan.”
“IN HERE.” GRABBING MY hand, Mia hauls me into a designer boutique that’s all pink silk and faux-French distressed rustic furniture. Kate follows us while Taylor waits outside, sheltering under the awning from the rain. Aretha is belting out “Say a Little Prayer” over the store’s hi-fi system. I love this song. I should put it on Christian’s iPod.
“This will look wonderful on you, Ana.” Mia holds up a scrap of silver material. “Here, try it on.”
“Um … it’s a bit short.”
“You’ll look fantastic in it. Christian will love it.”
“You think?”
Mia beams at me. “Ana, you have legs to die for, and if we go clubbing tonight”—she smiles, sensing an easy kill—“you’ll look hot for your husband.”
I blink at her, slightly shocked. We’re going clubbing? I don’t do clubbing.
Kate laughs at my expression. She seems more relaxed now that she’s away from Elliot. “We should throw some shapes this evening,” she says.
“Go try it on,” Mia orders, and reluctantly I head for the changing room.
WHILE I WAIT FOR Kate and Mia to emerge from the dressing room, I stroll to the shop window and look out, unseeing, across the main street. The soul compilation continues: Dionne Warwick is singing “Walk on By.” Another great song—one of my mother’s favorites. I glance down at The Dress in my hand. Dress is perhaps an overstatement. It’s backless and very short, but Mia has declared it a winner, perfect for dancing the night away. Apparently, I need shoes, too, and a large chunky necklace, which we’ll source next. Rolling my eyes, I reflect once more on how lucky I am to have Caroline Acton, my own personal shopper.
Through the boutique window I’m distracted by the sight of Elliot. He has appeared on the other side of the leafy main street, climbing out of a large Audi. He dives into a store as if to duck out of the rain. Looks like a jewelry store … maybe he’s looking for that watch battery. He emerges a few minutes later and not alone—with a woman.
Fuck! He’s talking to Gia! What the hell is she doing here?
As I watch, they hug briefly and she holds her head back, laughing animatedly at something he says. He kisses her cheek and then runs to the waiting car. She turns and heads down the street, and I gape after her. What was that about? I turn anxiously toward the dressing rooms, but there’s still no sign of Kate or Mia.
I glance at Taylor, where he’s waiting outside the store. He catches my eye, then shrugs. He’s witnessed Elliot’s little encounter, too. I blush, embarrassed to have been caught snooping. Turning back, Mia and Kate emerge, both of them laughing. Kate looks at me quizzically.
“What’s wrong, Ana?” she asks. “You gone cold on the dress? You look sensational in it.”
“Um, no.”
“Are you okay?” Kate’s eyes widen.
“I’m fine. Shall we pay?” I head to the cashier, joining Mia, who has chosen two skirts.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” The young sales assistant—who has more gloss coating her lips than I have ever seen in one place—smiles at me. “That’ll be eight hundred and fifty dollars.”
What? For this scrap of material! I blink at her and meekly hand over my black Amex.
“Mrs. Grey,” Ms. Lip Gloss purrs.
I follow Kate and Mia in a daze for the next two hours, warring with myself. Should I tell Kate? My subconscious firmly shakes her head. Yes, I should tell her. No, I shouldn’t. It could just have been an innocent meeting. Shit. What should I do?
“WELL, DO YOU LIKE the shoes, Ana?” Mia has her fists on her hips.
“Um … yeah, sure.”
I end up with a pair of unfeasibly high Manolo Blahniks with straps that look like they are made from mirrors. They match the dress perfectly and set Christian back just over a thousand dollars. I’m luckier with the long silver chain that Kate insists I buy; it’s a bargain at eighty-four dollars.
“Getting used to having money?” Kate asks, not unkindly, as we walk back to the car. Mia has skipped ahead.
“You know this isn’t me, Kate. I’m kind of uncomfortable about all this. But I’m reliably informed it’s part of the package.” I purse my lips at her, and she puts her arm around me.
“You’ll get used to it, Ana,” she says sympathetically. “You’ll look great.”
“Kate, how are you and Elliot getting along?” I ask.
Her wide blue eyes dart to mine.
Oh no.
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it now.” She nods toward Mia. “But things are—” She doesn’t finish her sentence.
This is unlike my tenacious Kate. Shit. I knew something was up. Do I tell her what I saw? What did I see? Elliot and Miss Well-Groomed-Sexual-Predator talking, hugging, and that kiss on the cheek. Surely they are just old friends? No, I won’t tell her. Not right now. I give her my I-completely-understand-and-will-respect-your-privacy nod. She reaches for my hand and gives it a grateful squeeze, and there it is—a swift glimpse of pain and hurt in her eyes that she quickly stifles with a blink. I feel a sudden surge of protectiveness for my dear friend. What the hell is Elliot Manwhore Grey playing at?
ONCE BACK AT THE house, Kate decides we deserve cocktails after our shopping extravaganza and whips up some strawberry daiquiris for us. We curl up on the sitting room couches in front of the blazing log fire.
“Elliot has just been a little distant lately,” Kate murmurs, gazing into the flames. Kate and I finally have a moment to ourselves as Mia puts away her purchases.
“Oh?”
“And I think I’m in trouble for getting you into trouble.”
“You heard about that?”
“Yes. Christian called Elliot; Elliot called me.”
I roll my eyes. Oh, Fifty, Fifty, Fifty.
“I’m sorry. Christian is … protective. You haven’t seen Elliot since Cocktailgate?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“I really like him, Ana,” she whispers. And for one dreadful minute I think she’s going to cry. This is not like Kate. Does this mean the return of the pink pajamas? She turns to me.
“I’ve fallen in love with him. At first I thought it was just the great sex. But he’s charming and kind and warm and funny. I could see us growing old together—you know … kids, grandkids—the works.”
“Your happily ever after,” I whisper.
She nods sadly.
“Maybe you should talk to him. Try to find some alone time here. Find out what’s eating him.”
Who’s eating him, my subconscious snarls. I slap her down, shocked at the waywardness of my own thoughts.
“Perhaps you guys could go for a walk tomorrow morning?”
“We’ll see.”
“Kate, I hate seeing you like this.”
She smiles weakly, and I lean over to hug her. I resolve not to mention Gia, though I might mention it to the manwhore himself. How can he mess with my friend’s affections like this?
Mia returns, and we move on to safer territory.
THE FIRE HISSES AND spits sparks onto the hearth as I feed it the last log. We’re almost out of wood. Even though it’s summer, the fire is very welcome on this wet day.
“Mia, do you know where the wood for the fire is kept?” I ask as she sips her daiquiri.
“I think it’s in the garage.”
“I’ll go find some. It’ll give me an opportunity to explore.”
The rain has eased off when I venture outside and head to the three-car garage adjoin
ing the house. The side door is unlocked and I enter, switching on the light to fight the gloom. The fluorescent strips ping noisily to life.
There’s a car in the garage, and I realize it’s the Audi I saw Elliot in this afternoon. There are also two snowmobiles. But what really grabs my attention are the two trail bikes, both 125cc. Memories of Ethan bravely endeavoring to teach me how to ride last summer flash through my mind. Unconsciously, I rub my arm where I badly bruised it in a fall.
“You ride?” Elliot asks from behind me.
I whirl around. “You’re back.”
“It would appear so.” He grins, and I realize that Christian might say the same thing to me—but without the huge, heart-melting grin. “Well?” he asks.
Manwhore! “Sort of.”
“Do you want a go?”
I snort. “Um, no … I don’t think Christian would be very happy if I did.”
“Christian’s not here.” Elliot smirks—oh, it’s a family trait—and waves his arm to indicate we’re alone. He strolls toward the nearest bike and swings a long denim-clad leg over the saddle, sitting astride and grabbing the handlebars.
“Christian has, um … issues about my safety. I shouldn’t.”
“You always do what he says?” Elliot has a wicked sparkle in his baby-blue eyes, and I see a glimmer of the bad boy … the bad boy Kate has fallen in love with. The bad boy from Detroit.
“No.” I arch an admonishing brow at him. “But I’m trying to put that right. He has enough to worry about without adding me to the mix. Is he back?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t go fishing?”
Elliot shakes his head. “I had some business to deal with in town.”
Business! Holy shit—groomed blonde business! I inhale sharply and gape at him.
“If you don’t want to ride, what are you doing in the garage?” Elliot is intrigued.
“I’m looking for wood for the fire.”
“There you are. Oh, Elliot—you’re back.” Kate interrupts us.
“Hey, baby.” He smiles broadly.
“Catch anything?”
