by James, E L
“I’ll let you know.”
After she’s gone, I reread Ana’s e-mail. It’s as discouraging as it was the first time I read it. While I’m contemplating how to respond, Andrea puts Flynn through.
“Christian. Welcome back. How was your honeymoon?” He sounds hale and hearty, and very British. He must have been back to the UK recently.
“Good. Thanks.”
He hesitates, and I know he senses something’s wrong.
“Can I come and see you?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, but my schedule is full today.”
When I don’t respond, he sighs. “Janet, my secretary, will kill me, but I can squeeze you in at lunchtime, though you’ll have to watch me eating my cheese-and-pickle sandwiches.”
“Okay. What time is that?”
“Twelve thirty.”
“I’ll see you then.” I hang up and call Elliot to give him the full story on Hyde and brief him about security.
“What a fucker!” Elliot sneers.
“Yes. That’s him in a nutshell. Don’t tell Kate about this. I know what a newshound she is.”
“Dude—” Elliot protests, but I cut him off.
“Elliot, I don’t want to argue. She’s tenacious. I met my wife because of Kate’s constant badgering, and I don’t want her fucking up the police investigation by becoming involved.”
Elliot is silent.
“No disrespect meant,” I add.
He sighs. “Okay, man. Hope the police catch the bastard.”
“Me, too.”
“I’ve got to be on-site, but let me know how your meeting with Gia goes this evening. I can’t wait to see the plans and we can start ordering the materials we’ll need.”
“Will do.”
“I have half an hour, Christian,” Flynn says when I march into his office.
“She won’t take my name.”
“What?”
“Anastasia.”
“She won’t take your name?” He looks momentarily confused. “Anastasia Grey?”
“Yes. She sent me an e-mail this morning, telling me so.”
“Sit,” he says, and points to the couch, and rather than take his usual chair, he sits down on the couch opposite. There is a plate of sandwiches, their crusts removed, and what looks like cola in a glass in front of him on the coffee table. “Lunch,” he says.
“Please, go ahead. Don’t mind me.”
“So, Christian, let’s just back up a bit. I last saw you on your wedding day. It was a joyous occasion. How was the honeymoon?” He takes a large bite out of a sandwich while my mind casts back to a few days ago. I relax, a little, remembering the calm waters of the deep blue Med; the scent of the bougainvillea, how accommodating and efficient the crew of Fair Lady were…how much I loved being in Anastasia’s company.
“It was sublime.”
John smiles. “Good. Any issues?”
“None that I want to discuss.” I’m not prepared to tell him about the hickey incident yet.
He gives me a direct, level look. “Because you are encroaching on my lunchtime, I’m going to tell you that’s not very helpful.”
I sigh. “Nothing serious. We had one fight.”
“Was that about your name?”
I flush. “Um. No.”
“Okay, when and if you want to discuss that, we can. So, what’s happened since then?”
I tell him at length about Hyde, about firing him, about the incendiary device, and the fact that he had information about me, my family, and Ana on his SIP hard drive. I tell him about the car chase.
“Crikey!” Flynn exclaims when I finish.
“He’s now the chief suspect in my helicopter’s sabotage.”
“Holy crap,” he mouths, and takes a bite of his sandwich.
“But that’s not the reason I’m here. This morning I got an e-mail from Ana saying she doesn’t want to take my name. I would have expected a discussion at least. Not just an e-mail.”
“I see.” His expression is thoughtful. “Finding out your wife’s ex-boss is trying to burn down your building, and may be responsible for a near-fatal accident in your helicopter is a big deal, Christian. Plus, a car chase. Have you considered that you may be channeling your stress from all these incidents into your reaction to the e-mail that you received from your wife?”
I frown. “I don’t think so.”
He strokes his chin. “Knowing how anxious you are about Ana’s safety, all of these events had to have had an effect on you. As I’ve learned over the last few months, she is your primary concern. Always.”
“True.”
“You do a great deal for her,” he says gently.
I do.
“You’ve given up a great deal for her.”
I say nothing. Where is he going with this?
“Then you might be interpreting her e-mail as a rejection, especially after all that you’ve done for her, and that wounds you.”
I take a deep breath.
Yes. It does. “I just can’t believe she didn’t talk to me about it. It’s like she’s dismissing me and all that I have worked to become. I wasn’t born a Grey.”
Flynn frowns. “There’s a lot to unpack in that sentence, Christian. And, sadly, I don’t have the time to do that right now. I hate to break it to you, but Anastasia keeping her name might be more about how she feels about herself, and may have nothing to do with you.”
How could this not be about me? It’s my name. It’s the only one I have…the only one I acknowledge.
There you are, Maggot.
I gaze at him, remaining impassive.
“The best thing to do is to talk to her. Tell her how you feel,” Flynn adds. “We spoke about this before. Ana is not an unreasonable person.”
She’s not. Except about the obey vow.
“This obviously means a great deal to you. Talk to her. I think we have an appointment on Wednesday. We can discuss this in more detail then. And maybe, in the meantime, you’ll have worked out some kind of compromise.”
“Compromise?”
She either takes my name or she doesn’t. Where’s the compromise in that?
“Ask her why, Christian,” he says gently. “Communicate and compromise.”
“Yeah, yeah. ‘It’s better to concede the battle to win the war.’” I parrot his words from one of our earlier sessions.
“Precisely.”
I get up. “Thanks for seeing me at such short notice.”
“Well, I hope I’ve been helpful.”
“I think so.” I’m going to talk to Ana right now.
“I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“One more thing. Leila Williams—is she in Connecticut?” I ask.
“I think so. She starts college today in Hamden. I had an e-mail from her last night. She’s excited to begin her studies.” He angles his head to one side in an unspoken “why?”
“It’s nothing. See you Wednesday.”
“Ryan, take me to SIP.”
“Yes, sir.”
On the short journey to Ana’s workplace, I contemplate what I’m going to say to her. We had three weeks to discuss the issue of her name while we were on our honeymoon. Why didn’t she bring it up then? I’ve done nothing but call her Mrs. Grey. She didn’t object. Maybe I’ve made a stupid assumption about her name, but she knows I have…issues. I’ve told her to manage my expectations.
I want people to know she’s my wife, even where she works.
My name does that. It represents all that is good in my life.
My parents. My father.
It represents everything he’s done for me. For Elliot and for Mia, too.
Even though he’s an asshole sometimes.
I still want to emulate him.
And every ti
me I stood in front of his desk while he gave me a dressing-down, I knew I’d failed and disappointed him.
He has pushed me to be a better person, a better man.
I admire him.
I love him.
Fuck.
Maybe I should wait until this evening.
No. It can’t wait. I will burst a blood vessel.
This is too important to me.
As I stare out of the car window, looking at everyone going about their business, my resentment simmers. Why the hell didn’t she tell me?
By the time I stalk into SIP, I’m hanging on to my temper by a silken thread. The first person I meet is Jerry Roach, who’s standing in the reception area and talking to a willowy woman with long, out-of-control dark hair.
“Christian Grey,” he says in disbelief.
“Jerry. How are you?”
“Um. Good. This is Elizabeth Morgan, our head of HR.”
“Hi,” I mutter tightly, as we shake hands.
“Mr. Grey. I’ve heard a great deal about you.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and I doubt Ana’s confided in her about me—so where she’s heard about me, I don’t know, but I’ve got no time to speculate on this now.
“What can we do for you?” Roach asks, pleasantly.
“I need a quick word with Ms. Steele.”
“Ana? Of course. I’ll take you to her. Follow me.” His fawning small talk leaves a lot to be desired, and I listen with half an ear as we head through the double doors behind reception and through to Ana’s office. I recall her saying that he went a little crazy when he found out that we were engaged. This does not endear him to me. Idly, I wonder how he would feel if he worked for Ana. That would surely make him crazy.
There’s a thought.
That would teach him.
Ana is in Hyde’s old office. I nod in greeting to Sawyer, who’s standing outside, while Roach raps on the door. Ana calls, “Come in.” The office is as small and shabby as I remember—still in need of updating and a lick of paint—though there are flowers on Ana’s desk, and the shelves are ordered and tidy. She’s eating her lunch with a young woman who I assume is her assistant. Both of them gape at me. I turn to her PA. “Hello, you must be Hannah. I’m Christian Grey.”
Hannah leaps to her feet and offers me her hand. “Mr. Grey. H-how nice to m-meet you,” she says as we shake hands. “Can I fetch you a coffee?”
“Please.” I give her a polite smile and she rushes out of the room. I turn to Roach. “If you’ll excuse me, Roach, I’d like a word with Ms. Steele.”
“Of course, Mr. Grey. Ana.” Roach leaves, closing the door behind him. I turn my attention to my wife, who looks guilty—like I’ve caught her doing something illicit—though she’s as lovely as ever.
A little pale, perhaps.
A little hostile, perhaps.
Shit. My anger recedes, leaving anxiety in its wake, as she squares her shoulders.
“Mr. Grey, how nice to see you.” Her smile is saccharine, and I know our honeymoon is over, and I have a fight on my hands. My spirit nosedives once more.
“Ms. Steele, may I sit down?” I nod toward the worn leather chair facing Ana’s desk that’s been vacated by Hannah.
“It’s your company.” Ana offers me the chair with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Yes, it is.” I grin back with an equally saccharine look.
Yes, baby. Mine.
We are circling each other—boxers in a ring—sizing each other up. Dampening down my bitterness, I steel myself for the battle ahead. This issue is important to me. “Your office is very small,” I note as I take the seat.
“It suits me.” Her tone is clipped and irritated; she’s mad at me. “So, what can I do for you, Christian?”
“I’m just looking over my assets.”
“Your assets?” she scoffs. “All of them?”
“All of them. Some of them need rebranding.”
“Rebranding?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “In what way?”
“I think you know.”
She sighs. “Please don’t tell me you have interrupted your day, after three weeks away, to come over here and fight with me about my name.”
That’s exactly what I’ve done.
I cross my legs and remove a speck of lint from my pants, playing for time.
Steady, Grey. “Not exactly fight. No.”
She narrows her eyes. Pissed. “Christian, I’m working.”
“Looked like you were gossiping with your assistant to me.”
“We were going through our schedules,” she hisses, as her cheeks color. “And you haven’t answered my question.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Come in!” Ana yells, surprising us both. Hannah enters, bearing a small tray with coffee, which she places on Ana’s desk.
“Thank you, Hannah,” Ana mutters, subdued.
“Do you need anything else, Mr. Grey?” Hannah asks.
“No, thank you. That’s all.” Deliberately, I give her my most excellent smile. It has the desired effect, and she scuttles out. “Now, Ms. Steele, where were we?”
“You were rudely interrupting my workday to fight with me about my name.” Ana spits the words at me, her fervor taking me by surprise.
She is really mad.
So. Am. I.
She should have told me.
“I like to make the odd impromptu visit. It keeps management on their toes, wives in their place. You know.”
“I had no idea you could spare the time,” she retorts.
Enough. Cut to the chase, Grey.
Striving to keep my tone respectful, I ask, quietly, “Why don’t you want to change your name here?”
“Christian, do we have to discuss this now?”
“I’m here. I don’t see why not.” This is important to me, Ana.
“I have a ton of work to do, having been away for the last three weeks.”
“Are you ashamed of me?” I inquire, surprising myself, and inadvertently revealing the darkness that resides in my soul.
I hadn’t intended to go here.
I hold my breath.
Don’t fight, Maggot.
“No! Christian, of course not.” She grimaces, appalled. “This is about me, not you.”
“How is this not about me?” I cock my head, willing her to explain. Of course this is about me; it’s my name.
Her expression softens. “Christian, when I took this job, I’d only just met you.” It’s like she’s talking to a child. “I didn’t know you were going to buy the company—” She closes her eyes, as if this is a particularly painful memory, and puts her head in her hands. “Why is it so important to you?” she asks and looks up, beseeching me.
“I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”
“I am yours—look.” She holds up her hand, which bears her wedding and engagement rings.
“It’s not enough,” I whisper.
“Not enough that I married you?” Her voice is almost inaudible, and her eyes widen.
“That’s not what I mean.” Ana, don’t distort what I’m trying to say to you.
“What do you mean?” she demands.
“I want your world to begin and end with me.”
Her eyes are impossibly blue. “It does,” she says, and I don’t know if I’ve ever heard two words filled with such quiet passion before; they suck the air out of the room and take my breath away. “I’m just trying to establish a career,” she continues, warming to her subject, “and I don’t want to trade on your name. I have to do something, Christian.”
I swallow down my rising emotion, listening hard, as she speaks.
“I can’t stay imprisoned at Escala or the new house with nothing to do. I’ll go crazy. I’ll suffocate. I’ve always worked, and I enjoy this. T
his is my dream job; it’s all I’ve ever wanted. But doing this doesn’t mean I love you less. You are the world to me.” Her voice is hoarse and her eyes dewy with unshed tears.
We hold each other’s gaze, testing the silence between us.
You are my world, Ana.
But I want you bound to me in every way.
I need that.
I need you…maybe too much.
“I suffocate you?” I whisper.
“No. Yes. No.” She sounds exasperated; she closes her eyes and rubs her forehead. “Look, we were talking about my name. I want to keep my name here because I want to put some distance between you and me, but only here, that’s all. You know everyone thinks I got the job because of you, when the reality is—” She stops and sits back, staring at my expression in shock.
Shit. How does she read me so well?
Fess up, Grey.
“Do you want to know why you got the job, Anastasia?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“The management here gave you Hyde’s job to babysit. They didn’t want the expense of hiring a senior executive when the company was mid-sale. They had no idea what the new owner would do with it once it passed into his ownership, and, wisely, they didn’t want an expensive redundancy. So they gave you Hyde’s job to caretake until the new owner—namely, me—took over.”
That’s the truth.
“What are you saying?” She looks offended and horrified.
Baby. Don’t sweat this. “Relax. You’ve more than risen to the challenge. You’ve done very well.”
You’re very good at what you do, Anastasia Steele.
“Oh,” she says, and she looks lost.
And it all becomes crystal clear.
This is what she wants.
This is her dream, and I can make it come true.
I vowed I would uphold her dreams during our wedding.
I don’t want to stifle her; I want to help her reach her full potential. I want her to fly…but just not too far away from me.
“I don’t want to suffocate you, Ana. I don’t want to put you in a gilded cage. Well… Well, the rational part of me doesn’t.”
It’s a gamble, but I play my most ambitious hand yet, voicing the idea that I’ve had on the spur of this moment. “So, one of the reasons I’m here—apart from dealing with my errant wife—is to discuss what I am going to do with this company.”
