"You don't approve?" I ask, as Christian ushers me out of the elevator on the
ground floor.
"No," he says, tight-lipped. "Let's just say that Taylor and I hold very differ-
ent views with regard to gun control." I'm with Taylor on this.
Christian holds the foyer door open for me and I head out to the car. He has
not let me drive alone lo SIP since he hound out that Charlie Tango was sabol-
aged. Sawyer smiles pleasantly, holding the door open for me as Christian and 1
Pie 1 leh act ind grasp Chrislia hand
"Learn how to shoot."
And I am a child again 10 be scolded. 1 open m month lo sa> something cut-
ting, but decide I don't want to start my workday in a bad mood. I fold my arms
instead and glimps I >l ■ rding m J reai e ihroi He looks away,
concentrating on the road in front, but shakes his head a little, in obvious
frustration.
Hmm . . . Christian drives him crazy, too, sometimes. The thought makes me
"Where is Leila?" I ask as Christian gazes out of his window.
"I told you. She's in Connecticut with her folks." He glances at me.
"Did you check? After all, she does have long hair. It could have been her
driving the Dodge."
"Yes, I checked. She's enrolled in an art school in Hamdcn. She started this
week."
"You've spoken to her?" 1 whisper, all the blood draining from my face.
C hrislian v hips his head around al (he lone ol'im oice.
"No. Flynn has." He searches my face for a clue to my thoughts.
"I see," 1 murmur, relieved.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Christian sighs. "Ana. What is it?"
1 shrug, not wanting to admit to my irrational jealousy.
Christian continues. "I'm keeping tabs on her. checking that she stays on her
side of the continent. She's hotter. Ana. Flynn has referred her to a shrink in New
Haven, and all the reports are very positive. She's always been interested in art.
so . . ." He stops hi il teh mine i in th n ment I suspect that
he is paying for her art classes. Do I want to know? Should I ask him? 1 mean it's
not as if he can't afford it. b I II t i >i i I ' i i ii
bagga c hardh i in t 1 1 1 II Is tnd his half-asscd
itien pis it i C hrislian a is tot my hand.
"Don't sweat this, Anastasia," he murmurs, and I return his reassuring
squeeze. I know he's doing w hat lie lliinks is right.
Midmorning I hre ill I p the pi ic to call Kate, 1 no-
tice an e-mail from Christian.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Flattery
Date: August 23, 2011 09:54
To: Anastasia Grey
Mrs. Grey
I have received tin 1 1 ipl 11 in 1 hail it Compli lent from my staff
are new. It must be t 1 ridiculous smile I'm 1 ) hi il 1 ut last
Christian Grey
CEO & Hoplophobe, Grey Enterprises Holdir
To: Christian Grey
To:AnastasiaGrey
Subject: Would you rather . . .
Date: August 23, 2011 11:04
To: Christian Grey
I flirted with someone else?
Brave Commissioning Editor, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Date: August 23, 2011 11:09
Christian Grey
Possessive CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Wow . . .
Date: August 23, 2011 11:14
To: Christian Grey
Are you growling at me? 'Cause that's kinda hot.
Squirming (in a good way) Commissioning Editor, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Beware
To:AnastasiaGrey
To: Christian Grey
Mrs. Grey
You were adorable this morning.
Behave while I'm away.
I love you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
This will be the first night we've slept apart since our wedding. I intend to
have a few cocktails v, ith kale that should help me sleep. Impulsively, I e-mail
him hack, although I know that he's still flying.
Subject: Behave Yourself!
Date: August 25, 2011 09:03
To: Christian Grey
Let mc know when you land— I'll worn until you do.
And I shall behave. I mean how much trouble can I get into with Kate?
Commissioning Editor, SIP
1 hit send and sip my latte. eouncs} of Hannah. ho knew I'd grow to love cof-
fee? Despite the fact that I'm going out this evening « ith Kate. I feci like a chunk
of me is missing. At the moment, it's thirty-five thousand feet somew here aboe
the Midwest en route to New York. I didn't know I would feel this unsettled and
anxious just because Christian's away. Surely over time I won't feel this loss and
uncertainty, will I? I let out a heavy sigh and continue with my work.
Around lunchtime. I I manieal heekii tail and m> I 1 1
for a text. Where is he? Has he landed safely? Hannah asks if I want lunch, but
I'm loo apprehensiv c and wave her away- 3 know it's irraiional. bill 1 need 10 be
sure lie's arrived safely.
My office phone rings, startling me. "Ana St — Grey."
"Hi." Christian's voice is warm with a trace of amusement. Relief floods
through me.
"Hi 1 m til! i I n II i i
"Long. What are you doing with Kate?"
Oh no. "We're just going out for a quiet drink."
Christian says nothing.
^ er and the Oman Pres i i i i o itch over us," 1 of-
fer. Irving lo placate him.
"I thought Kate was coming lo the apartment."
"She is after a quick drink." Please lei me go out!
Christian sighs heavily. "Why didn't you toll mo?" he says quielly. Too
quietly.
I mentally kick myself. "Christian, we'll be fine. I have Ryan, Sawyer, and
Prescott here. It's only a quick drink."
t hrisltan remains resolutely silent, and I know he's not happy. "I've only
seen her a lew times since on and I mel Please. She's m best friend."
coming back to ihe apartment."
"I've said okay," I mutter in exasperation, rolling my eyes,
your eyes at me."
I scowl al Ihe receiver. "Look. I'm sorry. 1 didn'l mean lo worry you. I'll tell
Kate."
' Good he I i 1 I I 1 i i
"Where are you'.'"
"On the tarmac at JFK."
"Oh, so you just landed."
"Yes. You asked me to call the moment I landed."
I smile. My subi nseious glares al n t I he wis he's going
"Well. Mr. (irey. I'm glad one of us is punctilious."
He laughs. "'Mrs. ( ire> . our gil'l for In perbole know s no bounds. What am I
going to do with you?"
"1 .in: sure > on" II think of something imaginative. You usually do."
""Are oli llirling with me?"
"Yes."
I sense his grin. "I'd better go. Ana, do as you're told, please. The security
team knows what they're doing."
"Yes, Christian, I will." I sound exasperated again. Jeez, I get the message.
'Til see you tomorrow evening. I'll call you later."
"To check up on me?"
"Yes."
"Oh, Christian!" 1 scold him.
"Au revoir, Mrs. Grey."
"Au revoir, Christian. I love you."
II I in i s I ' I I
Neither of us hangs up.
"Hang up, Christian," I whisper.
"You're a bossy little thing, aren't you?"
"Your bossy little thing."
"Mine." he breathes. "Do as you're told. Hang up."
"Yes, Sir." I hang up and grin stupidly at the phone.
A lew moments later, an e-mail appears in m inbo.v
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Twitching Palms
Date: August 25, 2011 13:42 EDT
To: Anastasia Grey
Mrs. Grey
You are as entertaining as ever on the phone.
I mean it. Do as you're told.
I need to know you're safe.
I love you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Honestly, he's the bossy one. But one phone call and all my anxiety has dis-
appeared. He's armed sal'ch and he's Cussing about me as usual. 1 hug myself
momentarily. God, I love that man. Hannah knocks on my door, distracting me.
and brings me hack to the now .
Kate looks gorgeous. In her light while jeans and red camisole, she's ready to
rock the town. She's chatting animatedly w ith C laire in reception when I make
"Ana!" she cries, scooping me up in a Kate hug. She holds me at arm's
"Don't you look the mogul's wife? Who would have thought, little Ana
Steele? You look so . . . sophisticated!" She grins. I roll my eyes at her. I'm wear-
ing a pale cream shift dress with a navy belt and navy pumps.
"It's good to see you, Kate." I hug her back.
"'Christian wants us to go back to the apartment."
"Aw, really? Can't we sneak a quick cocktail at the Zig Zag Cafe? I've
booked us a table."
"Please?" she whines and pouts prettily. She must be picking this up from
Mia. She never pouts normally. I'd really like a cocktail at the Zig Zag. We had
such fun the last time we went there, and it's close to Kate's apartment.
I hold up my index finger. "One."
which is parked at the curb with Sawyer at the wheel. We're followed by Miss
Samantha Prescott who's new to the security team — a tall African-American with
a no-nonsense attitude. I've yet to warm to her, maybe because she's too cool and
professional. The jury's definitely out, but like the rest of the team, she's been
I 1 I i I I like S i 1 i
"Can you take us to the Zig Zag, please, Sawyer?"
Sawyer turns to look at me, and I know he wants to say something. He's ob-
iously been given his orders, lie hesitates.
"The Zig Zag Cafe. We'll only have one."
I give Kate a sidew i I i Mi ring 1 Sawyei Poorman.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Mr. Grey requested sou go back to the apartment." Prescotl pipes up.
"Mr. (ircy isn't here." ! snap. ' The Zig Zag. please."
"Ma'am," Sawyer replies with a sideways glance at Prescott, who wisely
Kate gapes at me as if she can't believe her eyes and ears. I purse my lips and
shrug. Okay, so I'm a little more assertive than I used to be. Kate nods as Sawyer
pulls out into the early evening traffic.
"You know the additional security is driving Grace and Mia crazy," Kate
says casually.
I gawk at her, baffled.
"You didn't know?" She seems incredulous.
I flush. "No." Damn ii. (. 'hrisiian.' "Do you know why'.'"
"Jack Hyde."
"'What about Jack? I thought he was just after Christian." 1 gasp. Jeez. Why
"Since Monday," Kate says.
Last Monday? //mm . . . we identified Jack on Sunday. But why all the
"How do you know all this?"
"Elliot."
Of course.
"Christian hasn't told you any of this, has he?"
I flush once more. "No."
"Oh, Ana, how annoying."
1 sigh. As ever. Kale has hit [lie nail squareh on the head in her usual sledge-
hammer style. "Do you know why'.'" If C hristian's not going to tell me, then
maybe Kate will.
"Elliot said it's something to do w ith information stored on Jack Hyde's com-
puter when he was at SIP."
Holy crap. "You're i i sin i pu lirongh m
Kate know about this when I don't?
I glance up to see Sawyer eyeing me from the rearview mirror. The red light
turns to green and lie surges forward, focusing on the road ahead. I hold my finger
up to my lips and Kate nods. I bet Sawyer knows, too, and 1 don't.
"How's Elliot?" I ask to change the subject.
Kate grins slupidh . -.clime me all I need to know .
Sawyer pulls up at the end of the passageway that leads down to the Zig Zag
Cafe, and Prescott opens my door. I scoot out and Kate slides out after me. We
link arms and mc ilk low nth i Mi li tt who's wearing a
thunderous expression on her face. ( )h for hea en's sake, it's just a drink. Sawyer
drives off to park the car.
"So how does Elliot know Gia?" I ask, taking a sip of my second strawberry
mojito. The bar is intimate and cozy, and I don't want to leave. Kate and I have
I nil I had forgot I n h 1 I ith her It's liberat-
ing to be out, relaxing, enjoying Kate's company. I contemplate tcxting Christian
then dismiss the idea. He'll just be mad and make me go home like an errant
"Don't talk to me about thai bilch!" Kate splutters.
Kate's reaction makes me laugh.
"What's so funny Steele? h -naps, but not seriously.
"I feel the same way."
"You do?"
"Yes. She was all over Christian."
"She had a fling with Elliot." Kate pouts.
"No!"
She nods, her lips pressed together in the patented Katherine Kavanagh
scowl.
"Ii was brieT Last year. 1 think. She's a social climber. No wonder she has
her sights sel on Christian."
■"Christian is taken. I told her to leave him alone or I would fire her."
Kate gapes at me once more, stunned. I nod proudly, and she lifts her glass to
salute mc, impressed and beaming.
"Mrs. Anaslasia (irey! Way lo go!" We clink.
"Does Elliot own a gun?"
"No. He'svcn mli i." 1 Ii he 1 thud drink.
"Christian, too. I think it was Grace and Carrick's influence," I mutter. I'm
feeling a little tipsy.
"Carrick's a good man." Kate nods.
"He wanted a prenup," I mutter sadly.
"Oh, Ana." She reaches across and grasps my arm. "He was only looking out
for his boy. As we both know, you have gold-digger tattooed on your forehead."
She smiles ai me. and I puke my tongue (Hit at her then giggle.
"Mature. Mrs. (irey." site says grinning. She sounds like Christian. "You'll
do the same for your son one day."
"My son? Igapcather.lt t i lim hat my kids will be
rich llol crap. The "II waul i'ot nothing. ! mean . . . nothing. This needs further
thought — but not right now . i glance ai Preseoti and Saw er seated nearby, watch-
ing us and the c enii crowd I'roi II hil h each nurse a glass of
"Do you think we should eat?" I ask.
"Why are you in such a drinking mood?"
"Because I don't see enough of you anymore. I didn't know you'd up and
marry the first guy w ho turned your head." She pouts again. "Honestly, you mar-
ried so quickly that I thought you were pregnant."
I giggle, "l:er_one thought I w as pregnant." 1 mutter. "Let's not rehash that
conversation again. Please! And I have to use the restroom."
Prescott acconi| mies n lit nothing. She d I have to Disapproval
radiates off her like a lethal isotope.
"I haven't been out on my own since I got married," I mutter wordlessly at
the closed toilet dim In I i ng thai sh tan n_ on the other side
of the door, waiting « hile I pec. hat precisely is Hyde going in do in a bar an-
way? Christian is just overreacting as usual.
"Kate, it's late. We should go."
It's ten fifteen, and 1 hac downed m fourth straw heny niojito. I am defin-
itely feeling the effects of the alcohol, warm and fuzzy. Christian will be fine.
Eventually.
"Sure, Ana. It's been so good to sec you. You just seem so much more, I
don't know . . . confident. Marriage obviously agrees with you."
"It does," I whisper, and because I've probably had too much to drink, tears
nature, his Fiftyness, I have met and married the man of my dreams. I quickly
change the subject to stem my sentimental thoughts, because 1 know I will cry
"I have really enjoyed this evening." I grasp Kate's hand. "Thank you for
dragging mc out!" We hug. As she releases me, I nod at Sawyer and he hands
"I'm sure Miss Goody-Two-Shoes Prescott has told Christian I'm not at
way to punish mc . . . hopefully.
"Wliy are you grinning like a loon. Ana'.' You like making C hrislian mad?"
"No. Not really. But it's easily done. He's very controlling sometimes." Most
of the time.
"I've noticed," Kate says wryly.
Wc pull up outside Kate's apartment. She hugs me hard.
"Don't be a stranger," she whispers and kisses my cheek. Then she's out of
the car. I wave, feeling Inn 1 t si I h i n I git I ilk It's fun and re-
laxing, and reminds me dial I'm still >oung. 1 must make more of an effort to see
Kate, but the truth is. 1 lo e being in m> bubble w ith Christian. Last night we at-
tended a charity dinner together. There were so many men in suits and well-
roon ^ omen talkii > i il e i e n e a I I [ailing e an n
and the plunging stock markets. I mean, it was dull, really dull. So it's refreshing
to let my hair dew n w illi someone m ira n age.
My stomach rambles. Jccz, I still haven't eaten. Shit— Christian! I scramble
through my purse and fish out m BlaekBern . Holy crap live missed calls! One
*WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?*
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Angry. You've not seen angry
Date: August 26, 2011 00:42 EST
Sawver tells me that von are drinking cocktails in a bar
wouldn't.
Do y< b 11 > 1 1 nad I m> it th 11 in it
M> heart sinks. Oh sin;' i reall> am in trouble. My subconscious glares at me,
then shrugs, wearing her you-made-your-bed-you-lie-in-it face. What did I
expect? I contemplate calling him, but it's late and he's probably asleep ... or pa-
cing. I decide a quick text may be enough.
*I'M STILL IN ONE PIECE. I HAD A NICE TIME. MISSING
YOU— PLEASE DON'T BE MAD*
I gaze at my BkickBerrv. willing him in respond, bin it's ominously silent. I
sigh.
Prcscott pulls up outside Lscala and Sawyer yets out lo hold the door open
forme. As we stand waiting lor ihe elevator. I take the opportunity to quiz him.
"What time did Christian call you?"
Sawyer Hushes. " Vhoul nine thirty ma'am."
"Why didn't you interrupt my conversation with Kate so I could speak with
him?"
"Mr. Grey told mc not to."
I purse my lips. The elevator arrives, and we ride up in silence. I'm suddenly
grateful that Chrisliai I i whole i lo reeiw from hi nit fit, and that he's
on the oilier side of ihe country, ll gives me some lime. On Ihe other hand . . . I
The doors to the elevator open, and for a split second I stare at the foyer
table.
The vase of flowers I n lied inl fragmei II o the floor of the foy-
er, water and (lowers and chunks of china are strewn everywhere, and ihe tabic is
overturned M sc il I I I 1 pi lis me back into
the elevator.
"Stay there," he hisses, drawing a gun. He steps into the foyer and disappears
from my field of vision.
"Luke!" I hear Ryan call from inside the great room. "Code blue!"
V uh ve he peq N ! s ills back. "Jesus H. Christ!"
1 flatten myself against the elevator wall. What the hell is going on? Adren-
aline spikes through my body, and my heart leaps into my throat. I hear soft
voices, and a momcni later Savvci reappears in ihe liner, standing in the puddle
of water. He holsters his gun.
"You can come in, Mrs. Grey," he says gently.
it 1 ' ii I ce is barely a whisper
"We've had a visitor." lie lakes nn elbow, ami I'm grateful for the sup-
port — my legs have turned to jelly. I walk with him through the open double
Ryan is standing ai 1 he enlranee of Ihe great room. A cut above his eye is
bleeding, and there's another on his mouth. He looks roughed up, his clothes
disheeled. Bui what's more shucking is Jack Hyde slumped at his I'ect.
Chapter Ten
My heart is pounding and blood thrums loudK in m eardrums; the alcohol flow-
ii in ii ii ii I i I I
1 I i i il I i ii I in ii i i wide eyed and ter-
rified at Ryan. I can't even look at the prone figure on the floor.
"No, ma'am. Just knocked out cold."
Relief floods through me. Oh, thank God.
"And you?" I ask, gazing at Ryan. I realize I don't know his first name. He's
panting as if he's run a marathon, lie wipes the corner of his mouth. rcmoing the
ill I I I el
"He put up one hell of a fight, but I'm okay, Mrs. Grey." He smiles reassur-
ingly. If I knew him better, I'd say he looked a little smug.
"And Gail? Mrs. Jones?" Oh no . . . is she o/ u /i '.' Has he hee/i harmed''
"I'm here, Ana (ilanci I I n i In u 11 htdi s and robe, her hair
loose, her face ashen and her eyes wide — like mine, I imagine.
"Ryan woke me. Insisted I come in here." She points behind her into Taylor's
office. "I'm fine. Arc you okay?"
I nod briskly and realize - lie's probabh just come oul of the panic room built
adjoining Taylor's fl'ice. i k i i Christian had insisted
on n- ,11 a on horth iftci an ..i"> a .in 1 i Mi ] I lL ! i >llcd my eyes. Now,
seeing Gail standing in the doorw a . I'm grateful for his foresight.
A creak from the door lo die foyer distracts me. It's hanging off iis hinges.
What the hell happened to that?
"Was he alone?" I ask Ryan.
"Yes, ma'am. You wouldn't he standing here if he wasn't, I can assure you."
Ryan sounds vaguely affronted.
"1 low did he get in?" I ask, ignoring his tone.
"Through the service elevator. He's got quite a pair, ma'am."
I stare down at Jack's slumped figure. He's wearing a uniform of sorts — cov-
eralls, I think.
"When?"
"About ten minutes ago. I caught him on the security monitor. He was wear-
access. That way I knew we'd have him. You weren't here and Gail was safe, so I
and Sawyer scowls at him in disapproval.
Gloves'! The thought distracts me, and I glance once more at Jack. Yes, he's
wearing brown leather gloves. Creepy.
1 1 1 v 1 I 1 1 I I 11 1 I 1 I l[ I 1 1 I
"We need to secure him," Ryan replies.
"Secure him?"
"In case he wakes." Ryan glance-, ai Sawyer.
"What do you need?" asks Mrs. Jones, slopping forward. She's recovered her
composure.
"Something to restrain him — cord or rope," Ryan replies.
Cable ties. I flush a ■. memories of I lie pre ions niglii in ade my mind. Reflex-
ively, I rub my wrists and glance quickly down at them. No, no bruising. Good.
"I have something. Cable ties. Will they do?"
All eyes turn to me.
"Yes, ma'am. Perfect," Sawyer says, serious and straight-faced. I want the
floor to swallow me up, but I turn and head for our bedroom. Sometimes you just
have to brazen thm_ 01 Perh;i| 11 til oml ilio i ind ilcohol making
me audacious.
When I return, Mrs. Jones is surveying the mess in the foyer and Miss
Prcscoii has joined the security team. 1 hand the lies to Sawyer, who slowly, and
with unnecessary care, ties Hyde's hands behind his hawk. Mrs. Jones disappears
into ilte kitchen and returns w ith a first aid kit. She takes Ryan's arm. leads him
into the doorway of the great room, and starts tending to the cut above his eye. He
flinches as she dabs it with an antiseptic wipe. Then I notice the Glock on the
floor with a silencer attached. Holy shit! Jack was armed? Bile rises in my throat
and 1 fight it down.
"Don't touch, Mrs. Grey," says Prescott when 1 bend to pick it up. Sawyer
"I'll take care of that, Mrs. Grey," he says.
"Yes ma'am," says Ryan, wincing once more from Mrs. Jones's ministra-
tions. Holy crap. Ryan fought an armed man in my home. I shudder at the
"Should you be doing that?" I ask.
then squats to pat down Jack, lie pauses and partially pulls a roll of duct tape from
the man's pocket S 1 II I pocket.
Duct tape? My mind idly registers as I watch the proceedings with fascina-
tion and an odd detachment. Then bile rises to my throat again as I realize the im-
licalioi , i t 1 1 I isi hem fro n head. L > i/i in
"Should we call the police?" I mutter, trying to hide my fear. I want Hyde out
of my home, sooner rather than later.
Ryan and Sawyer glance at each other.
"I think we should call the police." 1 sa rather more forcefully, wondering
what's going on between Rum am! Sawyer.
"I've just tried ray lor. and he's mil answering his cell. Maybe he's asleep."
Sawyer checks his watch. ""Il's one lorty-ihc in ihe morning on the East Coast."
Oh no.
"Have you called Christian?" 1 whisper.
"No, ma'am."
"Were you calling Taylor for instructions?"
i I ii I iii ii
Part of me bristles. This man — I glance down at Hyde again — has invaded
my home, and he needs to be removed by the police. But looking at the four of
them, into their anxious eyes. I decide 1 must he missing something so I decide to
call Christian. My scalp prickles. I know he's mad at me — really, really mad at
me and 1 falter a; lite thought of what hod! say. And how hedl stress because
he's not here and can"! be here until tomorrow eening. 1 know I've worried him
enough this c entng. Perhaps I shouldn't call him. And then it occurs to me. Shit.
What if I'd been here? I pale at the thought. Thank heavens I was out. Maybe I
won't be in so much trouble after all.
"Is he okay?" 1 ask, pointing at Jack.
"He'll have an aching skull hen he il Ryan says gazing clown at Jack
with contempt. "But we need paramedics here to make sure."
I reach into my purse and pull oui my BlaekBerry . and before I can give too
much thought to the extent of ( 'hristian's anger. I dial his number. It goes straight
what to say. Turning aw ay . I w alk dow n the hallw ay a little, away from everyone.
"Hi. It's me. Please don't be mad. We've had an incident at the apartment.
But it's under control, so don't worry. No one is hurt. Call me." I hang up.
"Call the police." I tell Sawyer. He nods, takes out his cell, and makes the
Officer Skinner is deep in conversation with Ryan at the dining room table. Of-
ficer Walker is with Sawyer in Taylor's office. I don't know where Prcscott is,
perhaps in Taylot soli c Dele li ' 1 d i larking q i ons at me as we sit on
the couch in the great room. He's tall, dark and would be good looking if it wasn't
for his permanent scowl. I suspect he's been woken and dragged from his warm
bed because the home of one of Seville's most inll Liciiliul and wealthy business-
men has been breached.
"He used to be your boss?" ( lark asks tersely.
"Yes."
I am tired — beyond tired — and I want to go to bed. I still haven't heard from
Christian. On the plus side, the paramedics ha e rem." ed I Iv dc. Mrs. Jones hands
Detective Clark and me each a cup of tea.
"Thanks." Clark turns to me. "And where is Mr. Grey?"
"New York. On business. He'll be back tomorrow evening, I mean this even-
ing." It's after midnight.
"Hyde is known to us," Detective Clark murmurs. "I'll need you to come
down to the station to make a statement. But that can wait. It's late and there are a
couple of rcporteis e niped out on il I) u mil il 1 look around?"
"Of course not." 1 offer, relieved his questioning is finished. I shudder at the
thought of the photographers outside. Well, they won't be a problem until tomor-
row. I remind myself to call Mom and Ray just in case they hear anything and
"Mrs. Grey, may I suggest you go to bed?" Mrs. Jones says, her voice warm
and full of concern.
Looking into her warm, kind eyes, I suddenly feel an overwhelming need to
cry. She reaches over and rubs my shoulder.
I glance nervously up at her, keeping my tears at bay. Christian is going to be
"Can I get you am thing b o o go to bed 9 " she asks.
She smiles broadlv . "'Sandw ieh and some milk?"
1 nod with gratitude, and she heads into the kitchen. Ryan is still with Officer
Skinner. In the foyer Detective Clark is examining the mess outside the elevator.
He looks thoughtful, despite his scowl. And suddenly I feel homesick — homesick
for Christian. Holding my head in m> hands, i wish, fervently that he were here.
We'd know w hat to do. Ulna an evening > wanl io craw l into his lap. hav e him
hold me and tell me that he loves me, even though I don't do as I'm told — but that
won't be possible until this evening, lnvvardlv I roll my eyes . . . Why didn't he
icll me abou! the increased security for everyone'.' What exaelly is on Jack's com-
puter? He's so frustrating but right now, I just don't care. I want my husband. I
"Here you are, Ana dear." Mrs. Jones interrupts my inner turmoil. When I
glance up at her, she hands nic a peanut butler and jelly sandw ich, her eyes twink-
ling. I haven't had one of these lor years ! smile shyly and dig in.
When I finally crawl into bed. ! curl up on Christian's side, dressed in his T-
shirl. Boih his pillow and his T-shiri smell of him. and as ! drill off I silently w ish
him safe passage home . . . and a good mood.
I wake with a start. It's light and my head is aching, throbbing at my temples. Oh
no. J hope J don I I i ' i a .. 1 i. Cautious] I opei i i and ot i the
bedroom chair has moved, and Christian is sitting in it. He's wearing his tux, and
the end of his bowtie is peeping out of the breast pocket. I wonder if I'm dream-
blcr of amber liquid Brand o I t 1 , I ha i 1^ ! i long leg is crossed at
the ankle over his knee, lie's wearing black socks and dress shoes. His right el-
bow rests on the arm of the chair, his hand up to his chin, and he's slowly running
his index finger rhythmically back and forth over his lower lip. In the early morn-
ing light, his eyes burn with grave intensity but his general expression is com-
pletely unreadable.
My heart almost stops. He's here. How did he get here? He must have left
wit t night. II I has h si ic t m ce|
"Hi," I whisper.
long fingers away from his mouth, tosses back die remainder of his drink, and
lie sits back, continuing to regard me. his expression impassive.
"You're back."
"It would appear so."
Slowly I pull imself up into a silling position, not inking my eyes off him.
My mouth is di II ng I i sii , L i liiug mc sleep
"You're still mad." 1 can hardly speak the words.
He gazes at me, as if considering his response. "Mad," he says as if testing
the word, weighing up its nuances, lis morning "No. Ana. 1 am way, way beyond
Holy crap. I try to swallow . bul it's hard w ilh a dr mouth.
"Far beyond mad . . . that doesn't sound good."
He gazes at me, completely impassive, and doesn't respond. A stark silence
stretches between us. I reach over to my glass of water and take a welcome sip,
trying to bring my erratic heart rate under control.
"R an caught Jack." I tr i dii'I'i cm n I place np glass beside his on
the bedside table.
"1 know ," he says icily.
Of course, he knows. "Are you going to be monosyllabic for long?"
His eyebrows mi el i > I i^_i n urprisc i if he hadn't expec-
ted this question. '"Yes," he says finally.
Oh . . . okay. What to do? Defense — the best form of attack. "I'm sorry I
"No," I mutter after a pause, because it's true.
"Why say it then?"
"Because 1 don't want ou to be mad al me."
He sighs hca i! as if he's been holding this tension lor a thousand hours and
runs his hand through, his hair, i Ie looks beautiful. Man. bul beautiful. I drink him
in (. hristian's back — angry, but in one piece.
"I think Detective Clark wants to talk to you."
"I'm sure he docs."
"Christian, please . . ."
"Please what?"
"Don't be so cold."
feeling at the moment. I'm burning. Burning with rage. I don't know how to deal
with these" — he waves his hand searching for the word — "feelings." His tone is
bitter.
Oh shit. His honesty disarms me. All I want to do is crawl into his lap. It's all
I've wanted to do since I came home last night. To hell with this. I move, taking
him by surprise and climbing awkwardly into his lap, where I curl up. He doesn't
push me away, which is whal I'd reared. Alter a beal. lie folds his arms around me
and buries his nose in my hair. He smells of whiskey. Jeez, how much did he
drink'.' He smells of bodywash. loo. ile smells of Chrislian. I wrap my arms
aroun 1 his neck an i I i III i deeply this time.
"Oh, Mrs. Grey. What am 1 going to do with you?" He kisses the top of my
head. 1 close m eyes, relishing die contact with him.
"How much have yon had lo drink'?"
He stills. "Why?"
"You don't normally drink hard liquor."
"This is my second glass. I've had a trying night, Anastasia. Give a man a
I smile. "If you insist, Mr. Grey," I breathe into his neck. "You smell heav-
enly. I slept on your side of [he bed because unit pi I low smells of on."
He nuzzles my hair. "Did you now? I wondered why you were on this side.
I'm still mad at you."
111^ hand rhythmically strokes my back.
"And I'm mad at you," I whisper.
He pauses. "And what, pray, have I done to deserve your ire?"
"I'll tell you later when you're no longer burning with rage." I kiss his throat.
He closes his eyes a 1 In 1 ! i i i lo kiss me back. His