Authors: E L James
In my bedroom, she empties the contents of her evening bag on top of the chest of drawers. “Here.” She passes Elena’s note to me. “I don’t know if you want to read this. I want to ignore it.”
I scan the note.
Anastasia,
I may have misjudged you. And you have definitely misjudged me. Call me if you need to fill in any of the blanks—we could have lunch. Christian doesn’t want me talking to you, but I would be more than happy to help. Don’t get me wrong, I approve, believe me—but so help me, if you hurt him…He’s been hurt enough. Call me: (206) 279-6261.
Mrs. Robinson
It provokes my temper.
Is this one of Elena’s games?
“I’m not sure what blanks she can fill in.” I put the note in my pants pocket. “I need to talk to Taylor. Let me unzip your dress.”
“Are you going to call the police about the car?” she asks, as she turns around. I move her hair out of the way and pull down the zipper.
“No. I don’t want the police involved. Leila needs help, not police intervention, and I don’t want them here. We just have to double our efforts to find her.” I kiss her shoulder. “Go to bed.”
IN THE KITCHEN, I
pour myself a glass of water.
What the hell is going on? My world seems to be imploding. Just when I’m beginning to get back on track with Ana, my past is coming back to haunt me: Leila and Elena. I wonder for a moment if they might be colluding with each other, but then I realize that I’m being paranoid. What an absurd notion. Elena is not that crazy.
I rub my face.
Why would Leila be targeting me?
Is it jealousy?
She wanted more. I didn’t.
But I would have been happy to continue our relationship as it was…She was the one who ended it.
“Master. May I speak freely?” Leila says. She’s sitting at my right at the dinner table, wearing a fetching lacy La Perla one-piece.
“Of course.”
“I have developed feelings for you. I had hoped you would collar me and that I would stay by your side forevermore.”
Collar? Forevermore? I think to myself. What’s this once-upon-a-time bullshit?
“But I think that is beyond my dreams,” she continues.
“Leila. You know that’s not for me. We’ve discussed this.”
“But you’re lonely. I can see it.”
“Lonely? Me? I don’t feel that way. I have my work. My family. I have you.”
“But I want more, Master.”
“I can’t give you more. You know this.”
“I see.” She raises her face to look at me, her amber eyes scrutinizing me. She’s broken the fourth wall—she has never looked at me without permission. But I don’t scold her.
“I can’t. It’s not within me.” I’ve always been honest with her. This is nothing that she doesn’t know.
“It is within you, Sir. But maybe I’m not the person to make you realize it.” She sounds sad. She looks back down at her clean plate. “I’d like to terminate our relationship.”
She’s caught me by surprise. “Are you sure? Leila, this is a big step. I’d like to continue our arrangement.”
“I can’t do this anymore, Master.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and I don’t know what to say. “I can’t,” she whispers, clearing her throat.
“Leila—” I stop, bewildered by the emotion I hear in her voice. She’s been an impeccable sub. I thought we were compatible. “I’ll be sorry to see you go,” I say, because it’s true. “I’ve really enjoyed our time together. I hope you have, too.”
“I’ll be sorry, too, Sir. I’ve more than enjoyed everything. I had hoped…” Her voice trails off and she gives me a sad smile.
“I wish I felt differently.” But I don’t. I have no need of a permanent relationship.
“You’ve never given me any indication that you would.” Her voice is quiet.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. Let’s end this as you wish. It’s for the best, especially if you’ve developed feelings for me.”
TAYLOR AND THE SECURITY
team arrive back in the kitchen. “There’s no sign of Leila in the apartment, sir,” Taylor says.
“I didn’t think there would be, but I appreciate you checking. Thanks.”
“We’re going to monitor the cameras in turn. Ryan first. Sawyer and Reynolds are going to sleep.”
“Good. As you should.”
“Yes, Mr. Grey. Gentlemen.” Taylor dismisses the three men.
“Good night.”
Once they’ve left, Taylor turns to me. “The car’s a mess, sir.”
“Write-off?”
“I think so. She’s done a real number on it.”
“That’s if it’s Leila.”
“I’ll speak to the building security in the morning and check their CCTV. Do you want to involve the police?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.” Taylor nods.
“I’ll need to get Ana another car. Can you talk to Audi tomorrow?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have the wreck collected in the morning.”
“Thanks.”
“Is there anything else, Mr. Grey?”
“No. Thanks. Get some rest.”
“Good night, sir.”
“Good night.”
Taylor leaves and I head into my study. I’m wired. I can’t possibly sleep. I contemplate calling Welch just to keep him up-to-date, but it is too late. Slipping off my jacket, I hang it on my chair, then sit down at my computer and write him an e-mail.
As I press send my phone buzzes. Elena Lincoln’s name flashes up on the screen.
What now?
I answer. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Christian!” She’s surprised.
“I don’t know why you’re calling at this hour. I have nothing to say to you.”
She sighs. “I just wanted to tell you—” She stops and changes tack. “I was hoping to leave a message.”
“Well, you can tell me now. You don’t have to leave a message.” I’m finding it impossible to keep my composure.
“You’re angry. I can tell. If it’s about the note, listen—”
“No, you listen. I asked you, and now I am telling you. Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with you. Do you understand?”
“Christian, I only have your best interests at heart.”
“I know you do. But I mean it, Elena. Leave her the fuck alone. Do I need to put it in triplicate for you? Are you hearing me?”
“Yes. Yes. I’m sorry.” I’ve never heard her so contrite. It goes some way to cooling my anger.
“Good. Good night.” I slam my phone down on the desk. Interfering woman. I put my head in my hands.
I’m so fucking tired.
There’s a knock on my door.
“What?” I shout. I look up. It’s Ana. She’s dressed in my T-shirt, and she’s all legs and big fearful eyes. She’s bearding the lion in his den.
Oh, Ana.
“You should be in satin or silk, Anastasia. But even in my T-shirt you look beautiful.”
“I missed you. Come to bed.” Her voice is sexy and cajoling.
How can I sleep with all this shit going on? I stand and walk around my desk to gaze down at her. What if Leila wants to hurt her? What if she succeeds? How could I live with that?
“Do you know what you mean to me? If something happened to you, because of me…” I’m overwhelmed by a familiar, uncomfortable feeling that expands in my chest, becoming a lump in my throat that I have to swallow.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she says in a soothing tone. She strokes my cheek, her fingers scratching my stubble. “Your beard grows quickly.” There’s wonder in her voice. I love her tender touch on my cheek. It’s soothing and sensual. It tames the darkness. She caresses my bottom lip with her thumb, her eyes following her fingers. Her pupils are large and the small
v
has appeared between her brows as she concentrates. She traces a line from my bottom lip, down my chin, down my throat, to the base of my neck, where my shirt is open.
What is she doing?
She runs her finger along what I can only assume is the lipstick line. I close my eyes, waiting for the darkness to constrict my chest. Her finger touches my shirt.
“I’m not going to touch you. I just want to undo your shirt,” she says.
Opening my eyes, I keep my panic in check and focus on her face. I don’t stop her. The material of my shirt lifts and she unfastens a second button. Keeping the fabric off my skin, her fingers move to the next button down and she undoes that one, then the next. I don’t move. I daren’t. My breathing is shallow as I suppress my fear; my whole body is tense and waiting.
Don’t touch me.
Please, Ana.
She opens the next button down and smiles up at me. “Back on home territory,” she says, and her fingers trail along the line she made much, much earlier in the day and I tense my diaphragm as her fingers skim across my skin.
She undoes the final button and opens my shirt fully and I let out the breath I’m holding. Next she grabs my hand and, grasping my shirt cuff, removes my left cuff link, followed by the right. “Can I take your shirt off?” she asks.
I nod, totally disarmed, and she lifts my shirt up off my shoulders and pulls it from my body. She’s done. She looks pleased with herself, and I’m standing half naked in front of her.
Slowly I relax.
That wasn’t so bad.
“What about my pants, Miss Steele?” I manage a lascivious smirk.
“In the bedroom. I want you in your bed.”
“Do you, now? Miss Steele, you are insatiable.”
“I can’t think why,” she says, taking my hand. I let her lead me across the living room, through the corridor, and into my bedroom. It’s cold. My nipples pucker against the chill in the room.
“You opened the balcony door?” I ask.
“No,” Ana replies, looking at the open door with a bewildered expression. Then she turns to me, her face ashen. She’s alarmed.
“What?” I ask, as every hair on my body stands on end—not from cold but from fear.
“When I woke,” she whispers, “there was someone in here. I thought it was my imagination.”
“What?” I scan the room quickly, then dash to the balcony and look outside. No one there—but I distinctly remember locking this door during the search. And I know Ana’s never been on the balcony. I lock it again.
“Are you sure?” I ask her. “Who?”
“A woman, I think. It was dark. I’d only just woken up.”
Fuck!
“Get dressed. Now!” I order. Why the hell didn’t she tell me when she came into my office? I have to get her out of here.
“My clothes are upstairs,” she whimpers.
From my chest of drawers I pull out some sweatpants. “Put these on.” I toss them at her, pull out a T-shirt, and dress quickly.
I pick up the phone at my bedside.
“Mr. Grey?” Taylor answers.
“She’s still fucking here,” I bark.
“Shit,” says Taylor, and he hangs up.
Moments later he barrels into the bedroom with Ryan.
“Ana says she saw someone in the room. A woman. She came to see me in my study and neglected to tell me this.” I give her a pointed look. “Then when we got back here the balcony door was open. I remember closing and locking it myself during the search. It’s Leila. I know it is.”
“How long ago?” Taylor asks Ana.
“About ten minutes,” she answers.
“She knows the apartment like the back of her hand. I’m taking Anastasia away now. She’s hiding here somewhere. Find her. When is Gail back?”
“Tomorrow evening, sir.”
“She’s not to return until this place is secure. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. Will you be going to Bellevue?”
“I’m not taking this problem to my parents. Book me somewhere.”
“Yes. I’ll call you.”
“Aren’t we all overreacting slightly?” Ana asks.
“She may have a gun,” I growl.
“Christian, she was standing at the end of the bed. She could have shot me then if that’s what she wanted to do.”
I take a deep breath, because now isn’t the time to lose it. “I’m not prepared to take the risk. Taylor, Anastasia needs shoes.” Taylor leaves, but Ryan stays to watch over Ana.
I hurry into my closet, strip out of my pants, and pull on some jeans and my jacket. From my dress-pants pocket I grab the condoms I’d slipped in there earlier and stuff them into my jeans pocket. I pack some clothes, and as an afterthought grab my denim jacket.
Ana is where I left her, looking lost and anxious. My sweatpants are far too big on her, but there’s no time for her to change. I place the denim jacket over her shoulders and grab her hand.
“Come.”
I lead her into the living room to wait for Taylor.
“I can’t believe she could hide somewhere in here,” Ana says.
“It’s a big place. You haven’t seen it all yet.”
“Why don’t you just call her? Tell her you want to talk to her?”
“Anastasia, she’s unstable, and she may be armed,” I stress, irritated.
“So we just run?”
“For now, yes.”
“Supposing she tries to shoot Taylor?”
Jesus. I hope she doesn’t.
“Taylor knows and understands guns. He’ll be quicker with a gun than she is.” I hope.
“Ray was in the army. He taught me to shoot.”
“You, with a gun?” I scoff. I’m shocked. I loathe guns.
“Yes.” She sounds offended. “I can shoot, Mr. Grey, so you’d better beware. It’s not just crazy ex-subs you need to worry about.”
“I’ll bear that in mind, Miss Steele.”
Taylor comes down the stairs and we join him in the foyer. He gives Ana a carry-on suitcase and her Chucks. She hugs him, taking him and me by surprise.
“Be careful,” she says.
“Yes, Miss Steele,” Taylor replies, embarrassed yet pleased by her concern and her spontaneous affection. I give him a look and he adjusts his tie.
“Let me know where I’m going.”
Taylor takes out his wallet and passes me his credit card. “You might want to use this when you get there.”
Whoa. He’s really taking this seriously. “Good thinking.”
Ryan joins us. “Sawyer and Reynolds found nothing,” he tells Taylor.
“Accompany Mr. Grey and Miss Steele to the garage,” Taylor says.
The three of us enter the elevator, where Ana has a chance to pull on her Chucks. She looks a little comical in my jacket and sweatpants. But as cute as she looks, I can’t find the funny in our situation; the fact is I’ve placed her in harm’s way.
Ana blanches when she sees her car in the garage. It’s a mess—the windshield is shattered and the bodywork is covered in dents and cheap white paint. My blood boils at the sight, but for Ana’s sake I control my rage. I usher her quickly into the R8. She’s staring straight ahead when I climb into the car beside her, and I know it’s because she can’t bear to look at her car.