that he's lost in me ... I groan loudly, panting. It's so erotic —his need for me. I
am reaching . . . reaching ... and he's driving me higher, overwhelming me, tak-
ing me, and 1 want this. I want this so much ... for him and for me.
"Come with me," he gasps, and he rears up over me so I have to break my
"Open your eyes," he orders. "I need to see you." His voice is urgent, implac-
able. My eyes flicker open momentarily, and the sight of him above me — his face
taut with ardor, his eyes raw and glow ing. I lis passion and his love is my undoing,
and on cue I come, throw ing my head back as my body pulses around him.
"Oh, Ana," he cries and he joins my clima.v dri ing into inc. then stilling and
collapsing onto inc. Me rolls ocr so that I'm sprawled rat top of him, and lie's
still inside me. As I ri n t gasm and t i I tcadies and calms, I
want lo i 1 1 1 j some quip .an a being objectified tnd 0| messed, but hold my
tongue, uncertain of hi moi I i n i on Christiai best to examine his
face. His eyes are closed and his arms are wrapped around me, clinging tight. I
kiss his chest through the thin fabric of his linen shirt.
"Tell me, Christian, what's wrong?" I ask softly and wait anxiously to see if
even now, sated by sex, he'll tell me. 1 feel hi-, arms lighten around me further,
but it's his only response. He's not going to talk. Inspiration hits me.
"1 give yon my solemn vow to be your faiihfnl partner in sickness and in
health, to stand by your side in good times and in bad, to share your joy as well as
He freezes. His onls mosement is to open o ide his fathomless eyes and gaze
at me as I continue my wedding vows.
"I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals and
dreams, to honor and respect sou. to laugh ith sou and crs s ilh you, to share my
hopes and dreams with you, and bring you solace in times of need." I pause, will-
ing him to talk to me. He watches me, his lips parted, but says nothing.
"And to cherish both shall I 1 I
"Oh, Ana," he whispers and moves again, breaking our precious contact so
that we're lying side by side. I le strokes ms i'aee s ith the back of his knuckles.
union and you," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "I promise to love you faithfully,
regardless of where life lakes us. 1 will protect you, trust you, and respect you. I
that is mine is now yours. I gise s ou my hand, ins heart, and my love from this
Tears spring to my eyes. His face softens as he gazes at me.
"Don't cry," he murmurs, his thumb catching and dispatching a dray tear.
"Why won't you talk to me? Please, Christian."
He closes his eyes as if in pain.
"I vowed I would bring you solace in times of need. Please don't make me
He sighs and opens his eyes, his expression bleak. "It's arson," he says
mpK. and I 1 i 1 ung at I i I I
Ohfuck.
"And my biggest worn is thai lite) are a iter me. And , I' they are after me — "
He stops, unable to continue.
". . . They might get me." ! whisper, lie blanches, and I know that I have fi-
nally uncovered the root of his anxiety. 1 caress his face.
"Thank you," 1 murmur.
He frowns. "What for?"
"For telling me."
I le shakes his head and a ghost of a smile touches his lips. "You can be very
persuasive, Mrs. Grey."
"And you can brood and internalize all your feelings and worry yourself to
death. You'll probably die of a heart attack before you're forty, and I want you
around far longer than that."
"Mrs. Grey, you'll be the death of me. The sight of you on the Jet Ski— I
nearly had a coronary." He flops back on the bed and puts his hand over Iris eyes,
and I feel him shudder.
you'll be like when we visit your place in Aspen and I go skiing for the first
He gasps and turns to face me. and I want to laugh at the horror on his face.
I ignore him. "I'm a grown-up. Christian, and much toughei than I look.
He shrugs and loulh ll ' e to el I k i
"So, the fire. Do the police know about the arson?"
"Good."
"SecuriU is going to get tighter." he sa>s maller-ol-l'acllv.
"I understand." 1 glance down ills bod . He's still wearing his shorts and his
shirt, and I still have my T-shirt on. Jeez — talk about wham. ham. thank you
ma am. The thought makes me giggle.
"What?" Christian asks, bemused.
"You."
"Me?"
"Yes. You. Still dressed."
"Oh." He glances down at himself, then back at me, and his face erupts into
"Well, you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you, Mrs.
Grey — espcciulh liei o re i g i i 10 ilgii
Oh yes — the tie I! mh! The iicklin 1 nunc quid oil) I i strad-
dling him, but immediately understanding my evil intent, he grabs both of my
"No," he says and he means it.
I pout at him but decide that he's not ready for this.
"'Please don't." he whispers. "I couldn't bear it. I was never tickled as a
child." I le pauses and I relax my hands so he doesn't have to restrain me.
"I used to watch Carrick with Elliot and Mia, tickling them, and it looked like
such fun, but I . . . I . . ."
1 place my index finger on his lips.
"Hush, 1 know," I murmur and plant a soft kiss on his lips where my finger
ii i h* n i i ii } 1 Ik rh mi 1 i ' i i chc swells inside
me, and the profound sadness that I hold in my heart for Christian as a little boy
seizes mc once more. ! know 1 would do anything for this man because I love him
deeply as he gently strokes my back. I don't know how long we lie there, but
eventually I break the comfortable silence between us.
"What is the longest you've gone without seeing Dr. Flynn?"
"Two weeks. Why? Do uhi hac an incorrigible urge to tickle mc?"
Christian snorts. "He should; I pay him enough." He pulls my hair gently,
turning my face to look up al him I lili my head and meet his gaze.
"Are you concerned for my well-being. Mrs. ( nc '.'"' lie asks softly.
"Every good wile is concerned for her bekucd husband's well-being, Mr.
Grey," I admonish him teasingly.
"Beloved?" he whispers, and it's a poignant question hanging between us.
"Very much beloved." I scoot up to kiss him, and he smiles his shy smile.
"Do you want to go ashore to eat, Mrs. Grey?"
"I want to eat whcrecr you're happiest."
"Good." He grins. -Aboard il is where i can keep >ou safe. Thank you for my
present." He leaches rand I the i i. and I a' i il inn's length, he
snaps the two of us in our posl tickling, postcoital, posl confessional embrace.
"The pleasure is all mine," 1 smile and his eyes light up.
We wander through the opulent, gill splendor of the eighteenth century Palace of
Versailles. Once a humble hunting lodge, it was transformed by the Roi Soleil in-
to a magnificent, lavish seat of power, but even before the eighteenth century
ended il saw the 1 1 t 1 b lute monarchs.
The most stunning room by far is the Hall of Mirrors. The carls afternoon
light floods through w indows lo the west, lighting up the mirrors that line the east
wall and illuminating the gold leaf decor and the enormous crystal chandeliers.
It's breathtaking.
"Interesting to see what becomes of a despotic megalomaniac who isolates
himself in such splendor." 1 murmur to Christian as he stands at my side. He gazes
down and cocks his head to one side, regarding me with humor.
"Your point, Mrs. Grey?"
Oh. merel> an rali Ii (itc " I wave my hand airily at the sur-
roundings. Smirking, he follows me to the center of the room where I stand and
gawk at the view— the spectacular gardens reflected in the looking glass and the
spectacular Christian ii n h ban die led I k at n his gaze bright and
"I would build this for you," he whispers. "Just to see the way the light burn-
ishes your hair, right here, right now." lie tucks a strand of hair behind my car.
"You look like an angel." He kisses me just below in; earlobe. lakes my hand in
his, and murmurs. "W c despots do that for the women we loe."
1 flush at his compliment, smiling shyly, and follow him through the vast
"What are you thinking about'.'" Christian asks softly, taking a sip of his after-din-
ner coffee.
"Versailles."
"Ostentatious, wasn't it?" He grins. I glance around the more understated
grandeur of the L'tdi Lady 's dining room and purse m lips
"This is hardly ostentatious," Christian says, a tad defensively.
"I know. It's lovely. The best honeymoon a girl could want."
"Really?" he says, genuinely surprised. And he smiles his shy smile.
"Ofcourseitis."
"We've only got two more days. Is there any thins; you'd like to see or do?"
"Just be with yon." nuirmnr. He rises from the lable. comes around, and
kisses me on the forehead.
"Well, can you do without mc for about an hour? I need to check my e-mails,
find osil w hat's happening at home."
"Sure," I say I 1 I ill
him for an hour. Is it freaky that I want to be with him all the time? My subcon-
scious presses her lips into a narrow . unattractive line and nods vigorously.
"Thank you for the camera." lie murmurs ami heads for the study.
Back in our cabin I decide to catch up on my correspondence and open my laptop.
There are e-mails lion m mom i d I mi Kale a ing me the latest gossip from
home and asking how ilie hoi n I i 1 until someone de-
cided to burn down GEH Inc. ... As I finish my response to my mom, an e-mail
from Kale hits my inbox.
From: Katherine L. Kavanagh
Date: August 17, 2011 11:45 PST
Subject: OMG!!!!
Ana, just heard about the fire at Christian's office.
Do you think it's arson?
Kxox
Kate is online! I jump on to my newfound toy — Skype messaging and see
dial she's ax ailable. I quickh type a message.
Ana: Hey are you there?
Kate: YES, Ana! How are you? How's the honeymoon? Did
you see my e-mail? Docs Christian know about the fire?
Ana: I'm good. Honeymoon's great. Yes, I saw your e-mail.
Yes, Christian knows.
Kate: I thought he would. News is sketchy on what happened.
And Elliot won't tell me anything.
Ana: Arc ynu fishing for a story?
Kate: You know me too well.
Ana: Christian hasn't told me much.
Kate: Elliot heard from Grace!
Ohiio I'll) sure Christian does) , nl broa il o li Seattle. I try my
patented dislracl-lenaeious-ka anagh technique.
Ana: How are Elliot and Ethan?
Kate: Ethan has been accepted into the psych course at Seattle
for his master's degree. Elliot is adorable.
Ana: Way to go, Ethan.
Kate: How's our favorite ex-dom?
Ana: Kate!
Kate: What?
Ana: YOU KNOW WHAT!
Kate: K Sorry
Ana: He's fine. More than fine. ©
Kate: Well, as long as you're happy, I'm happy.
Ana: I'm blissfully happy.
Kate: © I have to run. Can we talk later?
Ana: Not sure. See if I am online. Time zones suck!
Kate: They do. Love you, Ana.
Ana: Love you, too. Laters. x
Kate: Laters. <3
Trust Kate to be on the trail of this story. 1 roll my eyes and shut Skype down
before Christian sees the chat, lie wouldn't appreciate the e-Dom comment, and
1 'm not sure he's entirely ex .
I sigh loudly. Kate knows everything, since our tipsy evening three weeks be-
fore the wedding when 1 linalh succumbed to the Kaanagh inquisition. It was a
relief to finally talk to someone.
I glance at my watch. It's been about an hour since dinner, and I am missing
i 1 1 1 i d b ' t i I i led Us w ork.
I am in the Hall of Mirrors and Christian is standing beside me, smiling dow n at
me with love and il i i I el it him, but when
I glance into the lool I 1 i h i i and he l oom is gray and
drab. No! My head whips back to his I'aee. to find his smile is sad and wistful. He
tucks my hair behind im ear. Then he turns wordlcssh and walks away slowly,
the sound of his footsteps echoing oil' the mirrors as he paces the enormous room
tion . . . and I wake, gasping for air. as panic seizes me.
"Hey," he whispers from beside me in the darkness, his voice filled with
Oh, he's here. He's safe. Relief courses through me.
"Oh, Christian." 1 mumble. trying to brine m> pounding heartbeat under con-
ing down m lace.
"Ana, what is it?" He strokes my cheek, wiping away my tears, and I can
hear his anguish.
"Nolhing. A silly nighlmare."
He kisses m forehe;i nu n e i mm, I el c< nlbn 11 In '! 1
dream, baby," he murmurs. "I've got you. I'll keep you safe."
Drinking in his sc nl. I curl a i d hii lringloi i die loss and devasta-
tion I felt in my dream, and in that moment, I know that my decpcsl. darkest fear
would be losing him.
Chapter Five
I stir, instinctivch 1 in Shit' I wake in-
stantly and look aniousl> around die cabin. Christian is watching me from the
small, upholstered armchair S>> the bed. Stooping down, lie places something on
the floor, then mo e nd strelcl I on 111 be n He s dressed in his
cut-offs and a gray T-shirt.
"Hey, don't panic. Everything's fine," he says, his voice gentle and sooth-
ing — like he's talking to a cornered wild animal. IcnderK. he smooths the hair
back from my face and I calm immediately. I see him trying and failing to hide his
"You've been m> jump these last couple of da s." he murmurs, his eyes wide
"I'm okay, Christian." I give him my brightest smile because I don't want
him to know how worried I am about the arson incident. The painful recollection
of how I felt when I i t I i I' t n went missing — the
hollow emptiness, the indescribable pain keeps resurfacing: the memory nag-
ging me and gnawing at my heart. Keeping the smile fixed on my face, I try to
repress it.
"Were you watching me sleep?"
"Yes," he says gazing at mc sleadiK . stud) ing mc. 'You were talking."
"Oh?" Shit! What was I saying?
"You're worried," he adds, his eyes filled with concern. Is there nothing I can
keep from til i ,i 1 ! a I i d and kisses n c 1
"When you frown, a little '<' forms jus! here. It's soft to kiss. Don't worry
baby, I'll look after you."
He smiles indulgently at my tone. "I'm big enough and ugly enough to look
after myself. Come. Get up. There's one thing I'd like to do before we head
swats my behind. I yelp, startled, and realize that loda we're going back to
Seattle and my melancholy blossoms. I don't want to leave. I've relished being
We've had a blissful honeymoon. With a few ups and downs, I admit, but that's
But Christian cannot contain his boyish excitement, and despite my dark
thoughts, it's infectious. When he rises gracefully off the bed. I follow , intrigued.
What has he got in mind?
Christian straps the ke to m w fist
"You want me to drive?"
"Yes." Christian grins. "That's not too tight?"
It s line K lb it w i t le jacket?" I arch n t
"Yes."
I can't help my giggle. "Such confidence in m dri ing capabilities. Mr.
Grey."
"As ever, Mrs. Grey."
"Well, don't lecture me."
Christian holds his hands up in a defensive gesture, but he's smiling. "Would
I dare?"
"Yes you would, and yes you do, and we can't pull over and argue on the
sidewalk here."
"Fair point well made, Mrs. Grey. Are we going to stand on this platform all
1 1 cbatii ri kills o c oing to Inn e sum fun
"Fair point well made, Mr. Grey." I grasp the handlebars of the Jet Ski and
clamber on. Christian climbs on behind me and kicks us away from the yacht.
Taylor and two of the deckhands look on m amusement. Sliding forward, Christi-
an wraps his arms in in , ic and sni Ic - ' ig * nst mine. Yes, this is
what I like about ih I i in th m key and push the
start button, and the engine roars into life.
"As I'll ever be," he says, his mouth close to my ear.
Gently, I pull on the lever and the Jet Ski moves away from the Fair Lady,
far too sedately for my liking. Christian tightens his embrace. I pull on the gas
ibl i i Ih ' L i 1 pen I e're am cd outside ill
nestled in the distance built into the Mcdiicrrancan. or hi il seems. I've heard the
odd plane landing since we arrived last night. I decide we need to take a closer
We shoot toward it. skipping rapidly over the waves. I love this, and I'm
thrilled Christian's letting me drive. All the worry I've felt over the past two days
melts away as we skim toward the airport.
"Next time we do this we'll have two Jet Skis," Christian shouts. I grin be-
causc the thought of racing him is thrilling.
As we zoom over the cool blue sea toward what looks like the end of the run-
way, the thundering roar of a jet overhead suddenly startles me as it comes in to
land. It's so loud I panic, swen ing and hilling the IhroUlc al Ihe same lime, mis-
taking it for a brake.
"Am 1 Chiislni ! 1 11 1 i li IT the side of the Jet
Ski, arms and legs Hail i ' i i I u i I luilai splash.
Screai I ll I i an I low a nasty mouthful of
the Mediterranean. The water is cold this far from the shore, but I surface within a
split second, courtesy of my life jacket. Coughing and spluttering, I wipe the sea-
water from my eyes and look around for Christian. He's already sw imming to-
ward me. The Jet Ski floats inoffensively a few feet away from us, its engine
silent.
"You okay?" His eyes are full of panic, as he reaches me.
"Yes," I croak, but I cannot contain my elation. See, Christian? That's the
worst that ear happen on a .lei Ski! 1 le pulls me into his embrace, then grabs m>
"See, that wasn't so bad!" I grin as we tread water.
Henlually he smirks at me, obviously relieved. "No, I guess it wasn't. Ex-
cept I'm wet," he grumbles, but his tone is playful.
"1 like you wet." He leers.
"Christian' Is i fa cousin lie mis looking
gorgeous, then leans in and Kisses me hard. hen he pulls away, I'm breathless.
His eyes are darker, hooded and healed, and I'm warm in spile of the cold water.
"Come. Let's head back. Now we have to shower. I'll drive."
We laze in the British Airways firs! class lounge a! llealhrow in London, wailing
for our connecting flight to Seattle. (. hrislian is engrossed in the Financial Times.
I pull out his camera, wauling to lake some photographs of him. He looks so sexy
in his trademark w kite linen shin and jeans, and his a iator specs tucked into the
V of his open shirt. The Hash disturbs him. He blinks up al me and smiles his sin
smile.
"How are you, Mrs. Grey?" he asks.
"Sad to be going home." I murmur. "1 like Inn ing you to myself."
He clasps my hand and lifting il to his hps grazes an knuckles with a sweet
kiss. "Me too."
"But?" I ask, hearing that small word unsaid at the end of his simple
He frowns. "Bur. 1 " he repeals disingenuously. I lill my head to one side, gaz-
ing at him with the icll mt expression i ha e been perfecting over the last couple
of days. He sighs, pulling his newspaper down. "I want this arsonist caught and
"Oh." That seems lair enough, bin bin surprised b his hlunmess.
again." A shiver runs down my spine at his menacing tone. He gazes al me im-
passively, and I don't know if he's daring me to be flippant or what. I do the only
thing 1 can think of to case the sudden tension between us and raise the camera
and snap another photograph.
"He sle i he a re 1 onn < hrisli a mi run ,
"Hrnm." I mum 1 i li 1 1 i I i i 1 1 i i hi I 1 i i
me on a picnic blanket al Kew Gardens. I am mi lired. Travelling is exhausting,
even in first class. We've been up for more than eighteen hours straight, I
think — in my fatigue Te lost track. 1 hear m dooi open, and Christian is leaning
over me. He unbuckle-. m seat belt ami lifts me into his arms, waking me.
"Hey, I can walk," I protest sleepily.
He snorts. "I need to carry you over the threshold."
1 put my arms around his neck. "Up till thirty doors'.'" I give hint a challen-
ging smile.
"Mrs. Grey, I am very pleased to announce that you've put on some v eight."
"What?"
He grins. "So if you don't mind, we'll use the elevator." He narrows his eyes
at me, though I know he's teasing.
Taylor opens the doors to the Escala lobby and smiles. "Welcome home Mr.
Grey, Mrs. Grey."
I give Taylor the briefest of smiles and watch him head back to the Audi
"What do you mean I've put on weight?" I glare at Christian. His grin
broadens, and he clasp- me closer to his chest as he carries me across the lobby.
"Not much." he assures me but his I'aee darkens suddenly.
"You've put on some of the weight you lost when you left me," he says
quietly as he summons the elevator. A bleak expression crosses his face.
His sudden, surprising anguish tug- tit tin heart. "Hey." 1 curl my fingers
around his face and inn; Ins hair, pulling him toward me. "if I hadn't gone, would
His eyes melt, the color oj'a storm cloud, and he smiles his shy smile, my fa-
vorite smile. "No," he says and steps into the elevator still holding me. He leans
down and kisses me gently. "No. Mrs. Grey, I wouldn't. But I would know I
could keep you safe, because you wouldn't del' me."
He sounds vaguely regret] 1
"I like defying you." I test the waters.
"I know. And it's made mc so . . . happy ." lie smile- down al me through his
Oh, thank heavens. "Even though I'm fat?" I whisper.
He laughs. "Even though you're fat." He kisses me again, more heated this
ii d I lis i fingers i !i ! holdin h n ig ^i n c our tongues twist-
ing in a slow sensual i i i ill) . ich -.1 1 1 V In . he elc> 1101 pmgs to a halt at
the penthouse, we are both breathless.
"Very happy," he murmurs. His smile is darker now, his eyes hooded and full
of salacious promise iie shako- his head as if 10 rccmer himself and carries me
into the foyer.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Grey." He kisses me again, more chastely this time,
and gives me the palenled-( 11 I 11 smile his eyes dancing
It nc in Ii. die 1 ii in 1 11 crii 1 il 111 linn
with my own joy.
I think Christian's going to put me down, but he doesn't. He carries me
through the I su i| 1 1 1 (deposit me on the
kitchen island where 1 sit with nn legs dangling, lie retrieves two champagne
flutes from the kitchen cupboard and a bottle of chilled champagne from the
fridge — our favorite Bollinger. He deftly opens the bottle, not spilling a drop,
pours the pale pink hampagne int 1 1 I hand le to me. Taking up
the other, he gently parts ms legs and mm es forw err..: to stand between them.
"Here's to us, Mrs. Grey."
"To us, Mr. Grey," I whisper conscious of nn sin smile. W e clink glasses
"I know you're tired," he whispers, rubbing his nose against mine. "But I'd
"It's our first night back here, and you're really mine." His voice drifts off as he
plants soli kisses down m throat. It's earls esening in Seattle, and I am dog-tired,
but 11 I I ii 1 ells and n 1 goddc purrs.
Christian is slumbering peaceful!) beside me as I stare at the pink and golden
streaks of the ncss d 11 tin 11 si ss in. I lis a 1 is draped loosels os cr
my breasts, and I try to match his breathing in an effort to get back to sleep, but
it's hopeless. I'm wide-awake, my body clock on Greenwich mean time, my mind
So much has happened in the last three weeks — who am I kidding, die lust
three months — that 1 el hal n Ice ha en o ie< lilt a Hind Andnowherel
am, Mrs. Anastasia Grey, married to the most delicious, sexy, philanthropic, ab-
surdly wealthy mogul a woman could meet, i low did this all happen so fast?
I shift onto my side to gaze at him, appraising his beauty. I know he watches
me sleep, but I rarely get the opportunity to repay the compliment. He looks so
young and carefree in his sleep, his long lashes fanned against his cheek, a light
smattering of stubbie covering his jaw. and his sculptured lips slight!) palled, re-
laxed as he breathes deeply. I want to kiss him, to push my tongue between his
lips, run my fingers ov er his soli yet prickly stubble. ! really have to fight the urge
not to touch him, not to disturb him. Hmm ... I could just tease his earlobe with
my teeth and suck. My subconscious glares up at me over her half-moon spec-
tacles, distracted from v olume two of the Complete Works of Charles Dickens,
and mentally chastises me. Leave the poor man alone, Ana.
I am back to work on Monday. We have today to reacclimatize, then we're
spending almost every minute together for the last three weeks. I lie back and
stare at the ceiling. One would think thai spending so much lime together would
be suffocating, but that's just not the case. I've loved each and every minute, even
My blood chills Who could warn to harm Christian'.' My mind gnaws at this
mystery again. Sonic ii I i tie i disannul d employee? I have
imum information he can get away with in a bid to protect me. I sigh. My shining
white-and-dark knight always trying to protect me. How am I going to make him
open up more?
He stirs and I still, not wanting to wake him. but it has the opposite effect.
Damn! Two bright eyes gaze at mc.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Go back to sleep." 1 try my reassuring smile. He stretches, rubs his
face, and then grins at me.
"Mel lag?" he asks.
"Is that what this is? I can't sleep."
"I have the unhersal panacea right here, just for you. baby." He grins like a
schoolboy making i i I m c i gle al ill ic into nd just like that
i | ind my teeth find his earlobe.
Christian and I cruise north on the 1-5 toward the 520 bridge in the Audi R8. We
arc going to have lunch at his parents', a welcome-home Sunday lunch. All the
family will be there, plus Kale and Lilian. II » iii be strange lo be in so much com-
pany when we've been on our own all ibis time. 1 haven't bad an opportunity to
talk to Christian most of the morning. He was holed up in his study while I un-
packed. He said I didn't have to, that Mrs. Jones would do it. But that's something
else I need to get used to — having domestic help. I run my fingers abscntmindedly
over the leather upholstery of the door to distract my wandering thoughts. I feel
out of sorts. Is it the jet lag? The arson?
"Would you let me drive this?" I ask, surprised that 1 say the words out loud.
"Of course." Christian replies, smiling. ""What's mine is -.ours. If you dent it,
though, 1 will lake >ou into the Red Room ol Ram." lie glances swiftly at me with
Shit! I gape at him. Is this a joke?
""You're kidding i'oi i b me for dei ing t i on love your car
more than you love me?" I tease.
keep me warm at night."
Christian laughs. ""We haen'i been home one da and vou're kicking me out
already?" He seems delighted. I gaze at him and he gives me a face-splitting grin,
and although I want to be mad at him, it's impossible when he's in this kind of
left his study this morning. And it dawns on me that I'm being petulant because
we have to go back to reality . and I don't know if lie's going lo revert to the more
closed pre-honcymoon < 'hristian. i»r if I'll gel lo keen the new improved crsion.
"Why are you so pleased?" I ask.
He flashes yet another grin at me. "Because this conversation is so . . .
"Normal!" I snort "Nol aflcr Ihrcc w ecks of marriage! Surely."
His smile slips.
"I'm kidding, Christian," I mutter quickly, not wanting to kill his mood. It
strikes me how unsu ei ol'hin II ictinn 1 si i 1 that he's always been
like this, but has 1 1 ill t i c ir. He's
very easy to tease, probably because he's not used to it. It's a revelation, and I
marvel again that we -ail I hae so much Hi lean; about each other.
"Don't worry. I'll slick 10 lire Saah." I muller and lurn to slare out oflhe win-
dow, trying to shake off my bad mood.
"Hey. What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You're so frustrating sometimes, Ana. Tell me."
I turn and smirk at him. "Back at you, Grey."
He frowns. "I'm trying," he says softly.
"I know. Me too." I smile and my mood brightens a little.
Carrick looks ridiculous in his chef's ha! ami Licensed to Grill apron as he stands
at the barbecue. Every time I look at him, it makes me smile. In fact, my spirits
have lifted considerably. We are all sitting around the table on the terrace of the
Grey family home cnji g llie lale si nmc Grace i d Vlia are setting vari-
u hi i i ill OK I i Llliol and Chrisi nil In i I i! n
discuss plans for the nev house, and Lilian and Kale grill me about our honey-
moon. Christian k^ci hoi i n hand gei loving ilh m> wedding and
engag. , iciii rings.
"So if you can get the plans finalized with Gia, I have a window September
through to mid-November and can get the whole crew on it," Elliot says as he
"Gia is due to come over to discuss the plans tomorrow evening," replies
Christian. "I hope we can finalize everything then." He turns and looks expect-
Y Oh . . . this is news.
"Sure." 1 smile ai him. mosih loi die benefit ol his I'amiK . hut my spirits lake
a nosedive again. In docs lie make these decisions without telling me? Or is it
the thought of Ciia ill lush hips, lull bre;isls. cpensic designer clothes, and
perfume — smiling too provocatively at my husband? My subconscious glares at
me. He "s given you no reason to be jealous. Shit, I am up and down today. What's
wrong with me?
"Ana," Kate exclaims, snapping me out of my reverie. "You still in the South
of France?"
"Yes." I reply w ill) a smile.
"You look so well," she says, though she frowns as she says it.
"You both do." (.race beams while Elliot refills our glasses.
"To the happy couple." Carrick grins and raises his glass, and everyone
around the table echoes the sentiment.
t i 1 1 t 1 I it I t Scat
chips in Mia proudly. She gives him an adoring smile, and Ethan smirks at her. I
amder idly i he made any head w a t li 1 ti It's diffieull to lei
1 listen to the banter around the table. Christian is running through our ex-
relaxed and in control, the worry of the arsonist forgotten. I, on the other hand,
fat yesterday. He was joking.' My subconscious glares at me again. Elliot acci-
dentally knocks his glass onto the terrace, startling eeryone. and there's a sudden
Hurry of activity to get it cleaned up.
"I am going to take you to, die boalhouse and finally spank you in there if you
I gasp with shock, turn, and gape at him. Winn'.' Is he leasing me'.'
welcome excitement lie cocks an eyebrow at me. Of course he would. I glance
quickly at Kate across the table. She's watching us with interest. I turn back to
Christian, narrowing my eyes at him.
"You'd have to catch me first — and I'm wearing flats," I hiss.
"I'd have fun trying." he whispers with a licentious grin, and I think he's jok-
ing.I blush. Confusingly, I feel better.
As wc finish our dessert of straw berries and cream, the heavens open and un-
expectedly soak us. We all leap up to clear the plates and glasses from the table,
depositing them in the kitchen.
"Good thing the weather held off till we finished," Grace says pleased, as we
drift into the back room den. Christian -its down at the shins black upright piano,
presses the quid pedal, and starts to plas a familiar tunc that I can't immediately
place.
Grace asks me for my impressions of Saint Paul de Vence. She and Carrick
went years ago during their honeymoon, and it occurs to me that this is a good
omen, seeing how happy (lies are together now. Kale and Elliot arc cuddling on
one of the large osersluiTed couches, while Lilian. Mia. and Carrick are deep in a
consersation about psychology, I think.
Suddenly, as one. all the ( ires s slop talking and, gape at Christian.
What?
Christian is singing softly to himself at the piano. Silence descends on us all
as we strain to hear his soft, lyrical voice. I've heard him sing before, haven't
they? He stops, suddenly conscious of the deathly hush that's fallen over the
room. Kate glances questioningly at me and I shrug. Christian turns on the stool
"Go on," Grace urges softly. "I've never heard you sing, Christian. Ever."
and after a beat, he shrugs. His eyes flicker nervously to me, then over to the
French windows. The rest of the room suddenly erupts in self-conscious chatter,
and I'm left watching my dear husband.
Grace distracts me. grasping ms hands then suddenly folding me in her arms.
"Oh, darling girl! Thank you, thank you," she whispers, so only I can hear. It
brings a lump to my throat.
smiles, her eyes shu i a es my chec Oh my ... What have I done?
""I am going to make some tea," she says, her voice hoarse with unshed tears.
I amble over to Christian who is now standing, staring out through the French
windows.
"Hi," I murmur.
"Hi." He puis his arm around my w aisl. pulling me lo him. and 1 slip my hand
into the back pocket of his jeans. We gaze out at the rain.
"Feeling better?"
I nod.
"Good."
"You certainly know how to silence a room."
"I do it all the time," he says and he grins at me.
"At work, yes, but not here."
"True, not here."
"No one's ever heard you sing? Ever?"
"It appears not," he says dryly. "Shall we go?"
I gaze up at him, trying to gauge his mood. His eyes are soft and warm and
slightly bemused. I decide to change the subject.
"You going to spank me?" ] whisper, and suddenly there are butterflies in my
stomach. Perhaps this is what I need . . . this is w hat i ha e been missing.
He gazes down at me, his eyes darkening.
"I don't want to hurt you. but I'm more than happy to plav ."
1 glance nervously around the large room but w e are out of earshot.
"Only il'you misbehave. Mrs. Grey." lie bends and murmurs in my ear.
How can he put so much sensual promise into six words?
"I'll see what I can do." I grin.
Once we've said our good-byes, we walk over to the car.
"Here." Christian throws me the keys to the R8. "Don't bend it"— he adds in
all seriousness — "or I will be fucking pissed."
on her leather dri ing gloves and Hat shoes. Oh rev.' site cries.
"Yes, before I change my mind."
I don't think I have ever grinned so hard. He rolls his eyes and opens the
driver's door so th it 1 can climb in. I start the engine before he's even reached the
passenger side, and he jumps in quickly.
"Eager, Mrs. Grey?" he asks with a wry smile.
"Very."
Slowly I case ll It u i i tt I manage not to
stall it, surprising myself. Boy, is the clutch sensitive. Carefully navigating the
driveway. I glance in my rearv ievv mirror and see Sawyer and Ryan climb into the
Audi SUV. I had no idea our security had followed us here. I pause before I set
out onto the main road.
"You're sure about this?"
"Yes," Christian says lightly .telling me lie's not si. re about this at all. Oh, my
poor, poor Fifty. 1 want to laugh at both him and my self because I'm nervous and
excited. A small part of me wants to lose Sawyer and Ryan just for the kicks. I
check for traffic then inch the R8 out onto the road. Christian curls up with ten-
sion and 1 can't resist. The road is clear. 1 put my foot down on the gas and we
shoot forward.
"Whoa! Ana!" Christian shouts. "Slow down — you'll kill us both."
I immediately ease off the gas. Wow, can this car move!
"Sorry," I mutter, trying to sound contrite and failing miserably. Christian
smirks at me, to hide his relief, I think.
"Well, that counts as misbelun ing." he says casually and ! slow right down.
I glance in the rearview mirror. No sign of the Audi, just a solitary dark car
with tinted windows behind us. I imagine Sawyer and Ryan flustered, frantic to
catch up, and for some reason this gives me a thrill. But not wanting to give my
dear husband a coronary . 1 decide to bclno c and dri c steadily w ilh grow ing con-
fidence toward the 520 bridge.
Suddenly. C hristian swears and struggles lo pull his BlackBerrv from the
pocket of his jeans.
"What?" lie snaps angrily at whoever it is on the other end of the line. "No."
he says and glances behind us. "Yes. She is."
I briefly check the rearview mirror, but I don't see anything odd, just a few
"I see." Christia in id hat I rubs his I reh id w ilh his lingers,
k i) on i idial oi i ha i )iik in i i a
"Yes ... I don't know." He glances at me and lowers the phone from his ear.
"We're fine. Keep going," he says calmly, smiling at me, but the smile doesn't
touch his eyes. Shit'. Adrenaline ,pikes through my s; stem. | Ic picks the phone up
"Okay on the 520. As soon as we hit it ... Yes ... I will."
I Ic slots the phono into the speaker cradle, putting it on hands-free.
"What's wrong. Christian?"
"Just look where yon ng il he says softly.
I'm heading for the on-ramp of the 520 in the direction of Seattle. W hen I
lanee ( 1 i a n. he taring huight ahead.
"I don't want you to panic," he says calmly. "But as soon as we're on the 520
proper. I want you to step on the gas. We're being followed."
Followed! Holy shit. My heart lurches into my mouth, pounding, my scalp
prickles and my tin. it constrict i ni ' I i I nn ' My eyes dart to
Fuck! h that it'.' I squint through the tinted w indsliield to see who's driving, but I
"Keep your eyes on the road. baby." Christian says gently, not in the trucu-
lent tone he normally uses where my driving is concerned.
Get a grip! 1 menial!;, slap my sell' to subdue the dread that's threatening to
swamp me. Suppose whoeer's following as is armed? Armed and after Christi-
an! Shit! I'm hit by a wave of nausea.
"How do we know we're being followed?" My voice is a breathy, squeaky,
"The Dodge behind us has false license plates."
How does he know that?
1 signal as we approach the 521) from the on-ramp. It's late afternoon, and al-
though the rain has i d Is I et . Fori i ^ the traffic is reason-
ably light.
Ray's voice echoes in my head from one of his many self-defense lectures.
"It's the panic that's gonna kill you or get you seriously hurt, Annie. " 1 take a
deep breath, trying to bring my breathing under control. Whoever is following us
is a ft ci Christian s 1 lake an. thei dee| eadving boa I my mmd begins to
clear and my stomach settles. J have to keep Christian safe. I w anted to drive this
car, and I wanted to drive it fast. Well, here's my chance. I grip the steering wheel
and take a final glance in my rearview mirror. The Dodge is closing on us.
I slow right down, ignoring Christian's sudden panicked glance at me, and
time my entrance on to the 520 so that the Dodge has to slow and stop to wait for
a gap in the traffic. I drop a gear and floor it. The R8 shoots forward, slamming us