by James, E L
Why is this so important to her?
My sweet, compassionate wife. “You beguile and bewilder me, Mrs. Grey.”
“Good.” She kisses me, her tongue finding mine, and soon we’re lost in each other again.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Good morning, Mr. Grey.” Andrea is bright and chirpy.
A little like me. Married life agrees with her, too, it would seem. “Good morning, Andrea.” I give her a quick, sincere smile.
“Coffee?”
“Please. Where’s Sarah?”
“On an errand for the meeting this morning. Black?”
“Yes. And let’s go through the preparations for today and the weekend.”
Sitting down at my desk, I review the documents laid out in front of me. Today we meet the Hwangs from Taiwan to discuss our joint venture with their shipyard. I have their stats, their management structure, details of their suppliers and subcontractors, and a list of their clients. It’s impressive, but part of me is still wondering why they would want to partner with a company in the U.S. In fact, this is what has been nagging me throughout our discussions with them. They told us during our recent call that they want to expand throughout the Pacific rim to be less reliant on the domestic and East Asian market. But GEH could be entering a political minefield.
Well, today we get to ask all the difficult questions.
Andrea joins me. She makes a mighty fine cup of coffee. “This is great.” I raise my cup to her, and am rewarded with a smile. “Where are you with the travel arrangements for Ana’s surprise party?”
“Your family arrives tomorrow. Raymond Steele will be driving in from his fishing trip in Oregon tomorrow. The Gulfstream is due to take off this afternoon for Savannah to collect Mr. and Mrs. Adams. They’ll fly into Seattle tomorrow afternoon. I wanted to check that you didn’t need hotel reservations for them.”
“No, thanks. They’ll be staying with us.”
“I think that’s all with regard to the weekend. I’ve been liaising with Mrs. Jones.”
“Great. Now, the Taiwanese delegation.” I check my watch. “They should be here by eleven.”
“Everything’s in place.” Andrea is exuding her usual efficiency. “They’re coming from the Fairmont Olympic. In addition to the owners, Mr. and Miss Hwang, and their chief operating officer, Mr. Chen, they’re bringing their interpreter; I’m sorry that I don’t have his or her name yet. Marco will meet them in reception and escort them to the conference room.”
“Odd that they are bringing an interpreter. They all speak fluent English.”
Andrea shrugs. “Lunch is booked in your name, at the Four Seasons at one thirty p.m.”
“Thanks, Andrea, sounds like everything is in hand.”
“Will that be all?”
“For now.”
Once she’s gone, I turn to my iMac and check my e-mail. The title of Ana’s jumps out at me.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: The List
Date: September 9 2011 09:33
To: Christian Grey
That’s definitely at the top.
:D
A x
Anastasia Grey
Editor, SIP
I laugh out loud and shift in my seat as I remember the spreader bar and how exceptionally accommodating my wife was last night. Then again, she has been every night since Leila intruded on our lives. Thankfully, that drama is over—Leila is home and Flynn has reassured me that she’s happily settled back into her life in Connecticut.
Ana is as insatiable as ever.
I am a lucky, lucky man.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tell Me Something New
Date: September 9 2011 09:42
To: Anastasia Grey
You’ve said that for the last three days.
Make your mind up.
Or…we could try something else.
;)
Christian Grey
CEO, Enjoying This Game, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Our only source of conflict has been Ana’s campaign to rehire Prescott, in spite of the fact that Ana herself said she wasn’t certain about her. I’ve reassured Ana that I’ll give Prescott a good reference, but that’s it, and for me the matter is closed. I return to the documents in front of me for a reread; I need to be on my game.
That done, I check for any further e-mails from Ana, but there are none. I’m restless for the meeting to start, but with forty-five minutes to go, I need to stretch my legs. Leaping up, I grab my phone and head out of my office.
“Andrea, I’m just going to see Ros. I’ve got my phone.” I wave it in front of her, and notice it needs charging.
Damn. “Can you charge this for me?”
“Yes, Mr. Grey.”
With a need to burn off some of my excess energy prior to the meeting, I vault down the stairs to Ros’s office.
Ros has a ream of final questions for the Hwangs, and we’re discussing tactics when there’s a knock on the door. It’s Andrea. “Mrs. Grey called you. She wanted to talk to you urgently. I thought you would want to know.” She hands me my phone.
“Thank you.” Frowning, I step out of Ros’s office and dial Ana’s number.
“Christian,” Ana gasps, breathless and choked.
A frisson runs up my spine. “Christ, Ana. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Ray—he’s been in an accident.”
“Shit!”
“I’m on my way to Portland.”
“Portland? Please tell me Sawyer is with you.”
“Yes, he’s driving.”
“Where’s Ray?”
“At OHSU.”
Ros steps out of her office, distracting me. “Christian, they’ll be here shortly.” My eyes dart to the clock on the wall. It’s 10:48.
“Yes, Ros, I know!” The meeting will take at least two hours. Hell. I was going to take them to lunch.
Ros and Marco can do it.
“Sorry, baby—I can be there in about three hours. I have business I need to finish here. I’ll fly down.” Thank God Charlie Tango is back in operation. “I have a meeting with some guys over from Taiwan. I can’t blow them off. It’s a deal we’ve been hammering out for months. I’ll leave as soon as I can.”
“Okay,” she whispers, her voice small and scared.
A fist tightens around my heart. This is not Ana’s usual demeanor. “Oh, baby,” I murmur, overwhelmed with the need to drop everything and join her.
She needs me.
But I can’t. I have responsibilities here.
Sawyer is with her.
“I’ll be okay, Christian. Take your time. Don’t rush. I don’t want to worry about you, too. Fly safely.”
“I will.”
“Love you.”
“I love you, too, baby. I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Keep Luke close.”
“Yes, I will.”
“I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.” She hangs up.
“Everything okay?” Ros asks.
I shake my head. “No. Ana’s dad has had an accident.”
“Oh no…”
“He’s in OHSU hospital in Portland. She’s heading there now. I have to make a quick call.” I speed-dial my mother, and by some miracle Grace answers her cell.
“Christian, darling. How lovely to hear from you.”
“Mom, Ana’s dad has been in an accident.”
“Oh no, poor Ray. Is he okay? Where is he?”
“OHSU.”
“Is it serious?”
“I don’t know. Ana’s on her way down there. Unfortunately, I have a meeting here that I need to take before I can join her.”
“I see. A friend from Yale works there. I’ll make some calls.”<
br />
“Thanks, Mom. I’ve got to go.”
I call Andrea, hoping that she’s back at her desk.
“Mr. Grey.”
“Ana’s dad has been in an accident. I’ll need Stephan to fly with me to Portland in Charlie Tango after my meeting. Can you ask Beighley to fly the Gulfstream to Savannah? We’ll need to find a second pilot to go with her. And liaise with Taylor—I need him to come with me.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.” I hang up. Ros is gathering her papers from her desk. “You’ll have to entertain the Hwangs after this meeting. Take them to lunch. I have a table booked at the Four Seasons. I’ll have to join Ana.”
“Of course. I’ll ask Marco to join me.”
“We’d better head up.”
Ryan drives Taylor and me to the helipad in downtown Seattle. It was Andrea’s idea that we leave from here, rather than Boeing Field, to save time. The meeting with the Hwangs has been a huge success. I’ve acquired a shipyard, and the settlement we’ve reached appears to be satisfactory to all parties, but I’ve left Ros and Marco to iron out the details. Ros and I have an invitation to visit the shipyard next week, but right now I need to support my wife and find out about my father-in-law’s condition.
As Ryan parks the Audi outside the building, I’m reminded of the last time I used this helipad—to take Ana to José’s exhibition in Portland. All part of my campaign to win her back.
I allow myself a brief moment of triumph.
I succeeded.
She’s now my wife.
Who would have thought, Grey?
Taylor and I make our way to the elevator, which whisks us up to the rooftop helipad. The doors slide open and there she is: Charlie Tango.
My pride and joy restored to her former glory.
I left her burnt out and abandoned in a clearing in a wild and desolate corner of Gifford National Forest. Now she has two new engines, and after a thorough cleanup at Eurocopter, she stands tall and proud, gleaming like new in the early afternoon sun. It’s a joy to see her. Stephan climbs out of the cockpit, beaming, as we walk toward him. “She’s handling just like she used to, and she’s looking good, too,” he says by way of a greeting.
“I can’t wait to take her up.” In spite of my anxiety about Ana, I can barely contain my excitement to be at Charlie Tango’s controls again.
“Thought you’d say that.” With a grin, he holds the pilot’s door open, then takes the seat beside me while Taylor hops into the back. Once I’ve buckled up, I don my headphones and run through my preflight checks.
“Have I forgotten anything?” I ask Stephan.
“No, sir. Well remembered.”
I check the rotor rpm then radio the tower.
“Okay, guys. You ready?”
“Copy,” Taylor says over his headset, and Stephan gives me a thumbs-up. Gently, I ease back the collective, and Charlie Tango rises like a phoenix into the Seattle sunshine. It’s a rush and a relief, knowing I’ll be with my wife in just over an hour.
The flight to Oregon is a welcome diversion from my worries about Ana and her dad. Charlie Tango is as responsive, smooth, and elegant as she’s always been. She lands with her usual grace on the Portland helipad.
“You’ll keep her warm?” I ask Stephan.
“With pleasure, sir.” He’s agreed to stand by for further instructions, as I don’t know when, or if, we’ll be heading home today.
Outside the building, there’s a Suburban waiting for us. The rental agent hands the keys to Taylor, and we set off for the hospital. While he drives, I fish out my phone to contact Ana, but there’s a missed call and voice mail from my mother. I call Grace, rather than listen to her message, but she doesn’t pick up. Hell. I hang up and listen to her voice mail. Her tone is crisp and concise, her doctor’s voice. “Christian, I don’t have much information on your father-in-law. I know he’s in the OR and has been there for some time. He’s in serious condition. We’ll find out more when they’re finished with him. I don’t have a time yet. If you’re at the hospital, call me.”
I scowl at my phone. My mother’s message is disturbing; serious does not sound good. “Taylor, we may have to stay overnight. Can you pick up some essentials for Ana and me?”
“Toiletries?”
“Yes. And a change of clothes or two. For both of us. Casual attire. Please.”
“Yes, sir.”
I call Andrea and she picks up on the first ring. “Mr. Grey.”
“Andrea, we may need to stay in Portland tonight. Check that The Heathman has a suite.”
“Will do. Shall I courier your laptop to you?”
“I have it. Taylor picked it up.”
Shit. It’s Ana’s birthday tomorrow.
“Call Mrs. Jones. I’m not sure we’ll be able to make dinner tomorrow. I’ll update her later.”
“Shall I turn the Gulfstream around?”
“No. Let them land in Savannah. Ana may want her mother here. I’ll come back to you when I know more.” I hang up.
What to do?
Taylor catches my eye.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Sir, I could drop you at the hospital. Shop for your essentials. Leave the shopping bags at your hotel, then fly back to Seattle with Stephan and bring the R8 down for Mrs. Grey so it’s here tomorrow morning.”
“That’s an idea. Let’s see how her father is before we do anything. But yes, that’s a good plan. You could also collect a few items for me, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
Perhaps we’ll have to reschedule Ana’s birthday celebrations to later in the month. While I chew on that, I remember that Mia starts her new job today. I send her a quick good-luck text as Taylor pulls up outside the main OHSU building.
I gird my loins. In spite of my mother’s chosen profession, I loathe hospitals.
In the elevator, on my way to the OR floor, my phone buzzes with a text from Andrea. She’s reserved my usual suite at The Heathman. A nurse at the reception desk on the third floor directs me to the waiting room. Taking a deep breath, I open the door. Inside the stark, utilitarian room I find Ana seated on a plastic chair. Pale, scared, and swamped in a man’s leather jacket, she’s clutching José Rodriguez’s hand. His father sits in a wheelchair beside him.
“Christian,” she cries. The relief and hope on her face as she leaps up to greet me extinguish the brief flash of jealousy that flared in my gut. When she’s in my arms, I close my eyes and hold her close. She smells of apples and orchards and Ana, and the unmistakable aroma of cheap cologne and sweaty nights out.
José’s jacket?
I wrinkle my nose and hope no one notices. José stands, but José Rodriguez senior remains in the wheelchair, looking pretty banged up.
Shit. He must have been in the accident, too.
“Any news?” I direct my question at Ana.
She shakes her head.
“José.” I nod a greeting while keeping hold of my wife. Sawyer is seated in the corner. He acknowledges me with a quick nod; I’m grateful that he’s been here with Ana.
“Christian, this is my father, José Senior,” José says.
“Mr. Rodriguez—we met at the wedding. You were in the accident, too?” Gently, I shake his free hand.
“We all were,” José replies. “We were driving to Astoria for a day’s fishing.” His face hardens, and his fresh-faced boyishness disappears, revealing the menacing man beneath. “But we were hit by a drunk driver on the way. He totaled my dad’s car. Miraculously, I was unharmed. My dad got beat up, but Ray—” He stops and swallows to collect himself, then, with a swift, anxious glance at Ana, continues, “He was bad. He was airlifted from Astoria community hospital to here.”
I tighten my arm around Ana.
“After they patched my father up, we followed,” he finishes, and I raise
my brows in surprise. Mr. Rodriguez Senior has a leg and an arm in casts, and one side of his face is bruised. He doesn’t look fit to travel.
“Yeah.” José shakes his head in exasperation, as if he can read my mind. “My dad insisted.”
“Are you both well enough to be here?” I ask.
“We don’t want to be anywhere else.” Mr. Rodriguez’s face contorts; he looks and sounds like he’s in pain.
Maybe they should go home.
But I don’t press them; they’re here for Ray. Taking Ana’s hand, I guide her back to one of the seats and sit down beside her. “Have you eaten?”
She shakes her head.
“Are you hungry?”
She shakes her head.
“But you’re cold?” I ask, catching another whiff of José’s jacket. She nods and wraps the offending garment more snugly around her. The door opens and a man in scrubs enters—dark-haired, tall, and with a weary air of battle fatigue; his expression is grave.
Shit.
Ana stumbles to her feet, and I stand quickly to steady her. All eyes in the room are on the young doctor.
“Ray Steele,” Ana says with quiet trepidation.
“You’re his next of kin?” the doctor asks.
“I’m his daughter, Ana.”
“Miss Steele—”
“Mrs. Grey,” I mutter, correcting him.
“My apologies,” the doctor stammers. “I’m Dr. Crowe. Your father is stable, but in critical condition.”
Ana crumples in my arms as the doctor delivers each blow about Ray’s condition. “He suffered severe internal injuries, principally to his diaphragm, but we’ve managed to repair them, and we were able to save his spleen. Unfortunately, he suffered a cardiac arrest during the operation because of blood loss. We managed to get his heart going again, but this remains a concern.”
Jesus!
“However,” Dr. Crowe continues, “our gravest concern is that he suffered severe contusions to the head, and the MRI shows that he has swelling in his brain. We’ve induced a coma to keep him quiet and still while we monitor the brain swelling.”
Ana gasps, sagging against me some more.
“It’s standard procedure in these cases. For now, we just have to wait and see.”
