Darker

  I can't concentrate on any of the articles.

  Nice photographs, though.

  I can't bear this. I pace once more. Then sit down and check the address of the house that we're going to visit. And if Ana doesn't like what she hears from Flynn and doesn't want to see me again? I'll just have to get Andrea to cancel.

  I get up, and before I know what I'm doing I'm outside, walking away from the conversation. The conversation about me.

  I WALK THREE TIMES around the block and return to Flynn's office. Janet says nothing as I stride past her, knock on the door, and enter.

  Flynn gives me a benevolent smile. "Welcome back, Christian," he says.

  "I think time is up, John."

  "Nearly, Christian. Join us."

  I sit down beside Ana and place my hand on her knee. She gives nothing away, and that's frustrating, but she doesn't pull her knee out of my reach.

  "Did you have any other questions, Ana?"

  She shakes her head.

  "Christian?"

  "Not today, John."

  "It may be beneficial if you both come again. I'm sure Ana will have more questions."

  If that's what she wants. If that's what it takes. I clasp her hand and her eyes meet mine.

  "Okay?" I ask gently.

  She nods and gives me a reassuring smile. I hope the squeeze I give her hand lets her know how relieved I am. I turn to Flynn.

  "How is she?" I ask him, and he knows I'm referring to Leila.

  "She'll get there," he says.

  "Good. Keep me updated as to her progress."

  "I will."

  I turn to Ana. "Should we go and celebrate your promotion?"

  Her shy nod is a relief.

  WITH MY HAND ON the small of her back, I escort Ana out of the office. I'm anxious to hear what was discussed. I need to know if he put her off.

  "How was that?" I ask, aiming for nonchalance, as we walk out onto the street.

  "It was good."

  And? I'm dying here, Ana.

  She looks at me and I have no idea what she's thinking. It's unnerving, and annoying. I scowl.

  "Mr. Grey. Please don't look at me that way. Under doctor's orders I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt."

  "What does that mean?"

  "You'll see."

  Will she marry me or not? Her winsome smile doesn't give me any clues.

  Hell. She's not going to tell me. She's leaving me hanging. "Get in the car," I snap, and I open her door.

  Her phone rings and she gives me a wary look before answering. "Hi," she says enthusiastically.

  Who is it?

  "Jose," she mouths at me, answering my unspoken question. "Sorry I haven't called you. Is it about tomorrow?" she says to him, but without looking away from me. "Well, I'm actually staying with Christian right now, and if you want to, he says you can stay at his place."

  Oh yes. He's delivering the stunning photographs of Ana, his love letters to her.

  Embrace her friends, Grey.

  She frowns and turns away, crossing the sidewalk to lean against the building.

  Is she okay? I watch her carefully. Waiting.

  "Yes. Serious," she answers, her expression stern.

  What's serious?

  "Yes," she responds, and then she scoffs, indignant, "Of course I am...You could pick me up from work...I'll text you the address...Six?" She grins. "Cool. I'll see you then." She hangs up and walks back toward the car.

  "How's your friend?" I ask.

  "He's well. He'll pick me up from work, and I think we'll go for a drink. Would you like to join us?"

  "You don't think he'll try anything?"

  "No!"

  "Okay." I hold my hands up. "You hang out with your friend, and I'll see you later in the evening. See? I can be reasonable."

  She purses her lips--amused, I think. "Can I drive?"

  "I'd rather you didn't."

  "Why, exactly?"

  "Because I don't like to be driven."

  "You managed this morning, and you seem to tolerate Taylor driving you."

  "I trust Taylor's driving implicitly."

  "And not mine?" she exclaims, and puts her hands on her hips. "Honestly, your control-freakishness knows no bounds. I've been driving since I was fifteen."

  I shrug. I want to drive.

  "Is this my car?"

  "Of course it's your car."

  "Then give me the keys, please. I've driven it twice, and only to and from work. Now you're having all the fun." She folds her arms, standing firm, stubborn as ever.

  "But you don't know where we're going."

  "I'm sure you can enlighten me, Mr. Grey. You've done a great job of it so far." And just like that she defuses the moment. She's the most disarming person I've ever met. She won't answer me. She's left me hanging, and I want to live the rest of my life with her.

  "Great job, eh?" I ask through my smile.

  She flushes. "Mostly, yes." And her eyes are alight with amusement.

  "Well, in that case." I hand her the keys and open the driver's door for her.

  I take a deep breath as she pulls into the traffic. "Where are we going?" she asks, and I have to remind myself that she hasn't lived in Seattle long enough to know her way around.

  "Continue along this street."

  "You're not going to be more specific?" she asks.

  I give her a slight smile.

  Tit for tat, baby.

  She narrows her eyes.

  "At the light, turn right," I say.

  She stops rather too suddenly, throwing us both forward, then indicates and moves on.

  "Steady. Ana!"

  Her mouth sets in a grim line.

  "Left here." Ana puts her foot down and we speed up the street. "Hell! Gently, Ana." I grab the dashboard. "Slow down!" She's doing thirty-eight through the neighborhood!

  "I am slowing down!" she shouts as she brakes.

  I sigh and get to the heart of what I want to talk about, trying and failing to sound casual. "What did Flynn say?"

  "I told you. He says I should give you the benefit of the doubt." Ana signals to pull over.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Letting you drive."

  "Why?"

  "So I can look at you."

  I laugh. "No, no. You wanted to drive. So you drive, and I'll look at you."

  She turns to say something to me.

  "Keep your eyes on the road!" I shout.

  She screeches to a halt just before a traffic light, releases her seatbelt, and storms out of the car, slamming the door.

  What the hell?

  She stands on the sidewalk with arms crossed in what's both a defensive and combative pose, glaring at me. I scramble out after her. "What are you doing?" I ask, completely thrown.

  "No. What are you doing?"

  "You can't park here." I point to the abandoned Saab.

  "I know that."

  "So why have you?"

  "Because I've had it with you barking orders. Either you drive or you shut up about my driving!"

  "Anastasia, get back in the car before we get a ticket."

  "No."

  I run my hands through my hair. What's got into her?

  I look down at her. I'm at a loss. Her expression changes, softening. Damn it, is she laughing at me? "What?" I ask.

  "You."

  "Oh, Anastasia! You are the most frustrating female on the planet." I throw my hands in the air. "Fine. I'll drive."

  She grabs my jacket and tugs me against her body. "No. You are the most frustrating man on the planet, Mr. Grey."

  She looks up at me with guileless blue eyes that pull me under and I'm drowning and I'm lost. Lost in a different way. I put my arms around her, holding her close. "Maybe we're meant for each other, then." She smells amazing. I should bottle this.

  Soothing. Sexy. Ana.

  She hugs me hard and rests her cheek against my chest.

  "Oh. Ana, Ana, Ana." I kiss her hair and hold
her.

  It's weird, embracing in the street.

  Another first. No. A second. I held her on the street near Esclava.

  She moves and I release her, and without saying a word, I open the passenger door and she gets in the car.

  At the wheel, I start the car and pull into the traffic. There's a Van Morrison song playing over the sound system and I hum along as we head toward the on-ramp for I-5. "You know, if we had gotten a ticket, the title of this car is in your name," I tell her.

  "Well, good thing I've been promoted. I can afford the fine."

  And I hide my amusement as we head north on I-5.

  "Where are we going?" she asks.

  "It's a surprise. What else did Flynn say?"

  "He talked about FFFSTB or something."

  "SFBT. The latest therapy option."

  "You've tried others?"

  "Baby, I've been subjected to them all. Cognitivism, Freud, functionalism, Gestalt, behaviorism. You name it, over the years I've done it."

  "Do you think this latest approach will help?"

  "What did Flynn say?"

  "He said not to dwell on your past. Focus on the future--on where you want to be."

  I nod, but I don't understand why she hasn't accepted my proposal.

  That's where I want to be.

  Married.

  Perhaps he said something to discourage her. "What else?" I ask, trying to get an inkling of what he might have said to dissuade her.

  "He talked about your fear of being touched, although he called it something else. And about your nightmares and your self-abhorrence." I turn to meet her gaze.

  "Eyes on the road, Mr. Grey," she scolds.

  "You were talking forever, Anastasia. What else did he say?"

  "He doesn't think you're a sadist."

  "Really?" Flynn and I have differing views on this. He cannot step into my shoes. He doesn't really understand.

  Ana continues. "He says that that term's not recognized in psychiatry. Not since the nineties."

  "Flynn and I have differing opinions on this."

  "He said you always think the worst of yourself. I know that's true. He also mentioned sexual sadism--but he said that was a lifestyle choice, not a psychiatric condition. Maybe that's what you're thinking about."

  Ana, you have no idea.

  You will never know the depths of my depravity.

  "So, one talk with the good doctor and you're an expert."

  She sighs. "Look, if you don't want to hear what he said, don't ask me," she says.

  Fair point, Miss Steele.

  Grey. Stop hounding the girl.

  She turns her attention to the passing cars.

  Damn.

  "I want to know what you discussed," I say in a tone that I hope sounds conciliatory. I leave I-5 and head west on Northwest Eighty-fifth Street.

  "He called me your lover."

  "Did he, now? Well, he's nothing if not fastidious about his terms. I think that's an accurate description. Don't you?"

  "Did you think of your subs as lovers?"

  Lovers? Leila? Susannah? Madison? Each of my submissives comes to mind.

  "No. They were sexual partners. You're my only lover. And I want you to be more."

  "I know. I just need some time, Christian. To get my head around these last few days."

  I look over at her.

  Why didn't she say that earlier?

  I can live with that.

  Of course I can give her some time.

  I'd wait until time stands still, for her.

  I RELAX AND ENJOY the drive. We're in the suburbs of Seattle, but heading west toward the Sound. I think I've timed this appointment just right and we'll catch the sunset over Puget Sound.

  "Where are we going?" she asks.

  "Surprise."

  She gives me a curious smile and turns to take in our surroundings through the window.

  Ten minutes later I spy the corroded white metal gates that I recognize from the photograph I've seen online. I pull in at the bottom of an impressive driveway and punch the security code into the keypad. With a creaky groan, the heavy gates swing open.

  I glance at Ana.

  Will she like this place?

  "What is it?" she asks.

  "An idea." I steer the Saab through the gates.

  The driveway is longer than I thought. To one side there's an overgrown meadow. It's big enough to install a tennis court or basketball court--or both.

  "Hey bro, let's shoot some hoops."

  "Elliot, I'm reading."

  "Reading is not going to get you laid."

  "Fuck off."

  "Hoops. Come on, man," he whines.

  Reluctantly, I abandon my tattered copy of Oliver Twist and follow him out to the yard.

  ANA LOOKS STUNNED AS we arrive at the grand entrance portico and I park beside a BMW sedan. The house is sprawling and actually quite imposing from the outside.

  I cut the engine, and Ana's baffled.

  "Will you keep an open mind?" I ask.

  She arches a brow. "Christian, I've needed an open mind since the day I met you."

  And I can't disagree. She's right. As ever.

  The realtor is waiting inside the large vestibule. "Mr. Grey." She greets me warmly and we shake hands.

  "Miss Kelly."

  "Olga Kelly," she announces to Ana.

  "Ana Steele," she responds.

  The realtor steps aside. The house smells a little musty from what must be months of disuse. But I'm not here to look at the interior. "Come." I direct Ana and take her hand. Having studied the floor plans at length I know where I want to go and how to get there. I lead her from the vestibule through an archway into an inner hallway, past a grand staircase, and into what was once the main living room.

  There are several open French doors on the far side, which is great because the place needs airing. Tightening my hold on Ana's hand, I take her through the nearest door, onto the terrace outside.

  The view is every bit as arresting and dramatic as the photographs suggested: the Sound in all its glory at dusk. Already there are lights twinkling from the distant shores of Bainbridge Island, where we sailed last weekend, and beyond that, the Olympic Peninsula.

  There is so much sky and the sunset is astounding.

  Ana and I stand hand in hand and stare, enjoying the spectacular view. Her face is radiant. She loves it.

  She turns to look at me. "You brought me here to admire the view?"

  I nod.

  "It's staggering, Christian. Thank you," she says, and stares once more at the opal sky.

  "How would you like to look at it for the rest of your life?" My heart starts hammering.

  This is one hell of a pitch, Grey.

  Her face whips to mine. She's startled.

  "I've always wanted to live on the coast," I explain. "I sail up and down the Sound, coveting these houses. This place hasn't been on the market long. I want to buy it, demolish it, and build a new house--for us."

  Her eyes grow impossibly large.

  "It's just an idea," I whisper.

  She looks over her shoulder into the old living room. "Why do you want to demolish it?" she asks.

  "I'd like to make a more sustainable home, using the latest ecological techniques. Elliot could build it."

  "Can we look around the house?"

  "Sure." I shrug. Why does she want to look around?

  I follow Ana and the realtor as she gives us the tour. Olga Kelly is in her element as she takes us through the numerous rooms, describing the features of each. Why Ana wants to see the whole house is a mystery to me.

  As we file up the sweeping staircase, she turns to me. "Couldn't you make the existing house more ecological and self-sustaining?"

  This house?

  "I'd have to ask Elliot. He's the expert in all this."

  Ana likes this house.

  Keeping the house wasn't what I had in mind.

  The realtor takes us into the master
suite. It has full-height windows opening onto a balcony that looks out at the spectacular view. We both pause for a moment and stare at the darkening sky, and the last traces of the sun that can still be seen. It's a glorious vista.

  We wander through the rest of the bedrooms; there are many, and the last overlooks the front of the house. The realtor suggests that the meadow might be a suitable place for a paddock and stables.

  "The paddock would be where the meadow is now?" Ana asks, looking dubious.

  "Yes," the realtor replies.

  Back downstairs, we make our way through to the terrace once more and I rethink my plans. The house wasn't what I imagined living in, but it looks well built and solid enough and with a comprehensive update, it could serve our needs. I glance at Ana.

  Who am I kidding?

  Wherever Ana is, that's my home.

  If this is what she wants...

  Outside on the terrace, I hold her. "Lot to take in?" I ask.

  She nods.

  "I wanted to check that you liked it before I bought it."

  "The view?"

  I nod.

  "I love the view, and I like the house that's here."

  "You do?"

  "Christian, you had me at the meadow," she says with a shy smile.

  This means she's not leaving.

  Surely.

  I cup her face, my fingers in her hair, and pour all my gratitude into one kiss.

  "THANKS FOR LETTING US look around," I say to Miss Kelly. "I'll be in touch."

  "Thank you, Mr. Grey. Ana," she says, eagerly shaking hands with each of us.

  Ana likes it!

  My relief is palpable as we climb into the Saab. Olga has switched on the external lights and the driveway is edged with winking lamps. The house is growing on me. It has a sprawling, grand quality to it. I'm sure Elliot can work his magic on the place and make it more ecologically sustainable.

  "So, you're going to buy it?" Ana asks when we're on our way back to Seattle.

  "Yes."

  "You'll put Escala on the market?"

  "Why would I do that?"

  "To pay for--" She stops.

  "Trust me, I can afford it."

  "Do you like being rich?"

  I want to scoff. "Yes. Show me someone who doesn't."

  She chews her finger.

  "Anastasia, you're going to have to learn to be rich, too, if you say yes."

  "Wealth isn't something I've ever aspired to, Christian."

  "I know. I love that about you. But then again, you've never been hungry."

  In the periphery of my vision, I see her turn and look at me, but I can't make out her expression in the darkness.

  "Where are we going?" she asks, and I know she's changing the subject.

  "To celebrate."

  "Celebrate what, the house?"

  "Have you forgotten already? Your acting-editor role."

  "Oh yes."