"They're your photos, Christian. Do with them as you wish." And I know she's offended and hurt.
Christ.
Ana. This was all before you.
I take her head in my hands. "Don't be like that. I don't want that life. I want our life, together." I know she struggles with not being enough for me. Maybe she thinks I want to do those things to her and photograph her.
Grey, be honest, of course you would.
But I'd never do it without her permission. I had all my submissives' consent to having their photographs taken.
Ana's wounded expression reveals her vulnerability. I thought we'd moved on. I want her as she is. She's more than enough. "Ana, I thought we exorcised all those ghosts this morning. I feel that way. Don't you?"
Her eyes soften. "Yes. Yes, I feel like that, too."
"Good." I kiss her and hold her, feeling her body relax against mine. "I'll shred them. And then I have to go to work. I'm sorry, baby, but I have a mountain of business to get through this afternoon."
"It's cool. I have to call my mother," she says, and makes a face. "Then I want to do some shopping and bake you a cake."
"A cake?"
She nods.
"A chocolate cake?"
"You want a chocolate cake?"
I grin.
"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Grey."
I kiss her once more. I don't deserve her. I hope, one day, I'll prove that I do.
ANA WAS RIGHT, the photographs are in my closet. I will have to ask Dr. Flynn to find out if Leila moved them. When I walk back into the living room, Ana's not there. I suspect she's calling her mother.
There's a certain irony in sitting at my desk and shredding these photographs: relics of my old life. The first photograph is of Susannah, bound and gagged, on her knees on the wooden floor. It's not a bad photograph, and briefly I wonder what Jose would make of this subject matter. The thought amuses me, but I put the first few photographs through the shredder. I turn the rest of the pile over so I can't see the images and within twelve minutes they're all gone.
You still have the negatives.
Grey. Stop.
I'm relieved to find that nothing else is missing from the safe. I turn to my computer and make a start on my e-mails. My first task is to rewrite Sam's pretentious statement about my crash landing. I edit it--it lacks clarity and detail--and I send it back to him.
Then I scroll through my text messages.
ELENA
Christian. Please call me.
I need to hear it from your lips that you're okay.
Elena's text must have come through while I was having lunch. The rest are from late last night and yesterday.
ROS
My feet are sore.
But all good.
Hope you are good, too.
SAM PUBLICITY VP
I really need to talk to you.
SAM PUBLICITY VP
Mr. Grey. Call me. Urgently.
SAM PUBLICITY VP
Mr. Grey. Glad you are okay.
Please call me asap.
ELENA
Thank God you're okay.
I just saw the news.
Please call me.
ELLIOT
Pick up the phone. Bro.
We're worried. Here.
GRACE
Where are you?
Call me. I'm worried.
So is your father.
MIA
CHRISTIAN. WTF.
CALL US.
ANA
We're at the Bunker Club.
Please join us.
You've been mighty quiet Mr. Grey.
Miss you.
ELENA
Are you ignoring me?
Fuck. Just leave me alone, Elena.
TAYLOR
Sir, false alarm with my daughter.
On my way back to Seattle.
Should be there 3 p.m.
I delete them all. I know I'm going to have to deal with Elena at some point, but I don't feel like it now. I open a spreadsheet from Fred with the cost projections for the Kavanagh contract.
The smell of baking drifts into my study. The aroma is mouth-watering and evokes one of the few happy memories I have of my early childhood. It's a bittersweet feeling. The crack whore. Baking.
A movement distracts me from my thoughts and the spreadsheet I'm reading. It's Ana, standing in my study doorway. "I'm just heading to the store to pick up some ingredients," she says.
"Okay." Not dressed like that, surely?
"What?"
"You going to put some jeans on or something?"
"Christian, they're just legs," she says dismissively, and I grit my teeth. "What if we were at the beach?" she says.
"We're not at the beach."
"Would you object if we were at the beach?"
We'd be on a private beach. "No," I respond.
She gives me a wicked smile. "Well, just imagine we are. Laters." She turns and bolts.
What? She's running?
And before I know it, I'm out of my seat and going after her. I see a flash of turquoise exit through the main entrance at speed and I pursue her into the foyer, but she's in the elevator and the doors are closing when I catch up with her. She gives me a wave from inside and then she's gone. Her haste is such an overreaction, I want to laugh.
What did she think I'd do?
Shaking my head, I walk back to the kitchen. The last time we played tag, she left me. The thought is sobering. I stand at the fridge and pour myself some water and I spy my cake cooling on a wire rack. I bend to sniff it and my mouth waters. I close my eyes and a memory of the crack whore resurfaces.
Mommy is home. Mommy is here.
She's wearing her biggest shoes and a short, short skirt. It's red. And shiny.
Mommy has purple marks on her legs. Near her butt.
She smells good. Like candy.
"Come in, big guy, make yourself comfortable."
She's with a man. A big man with a big beard. I don't know him.
"Not now, Maggot. Mommy has company. Go play in your room with your cars. I'll bake you a cake when I'm done."
She closes her bedroom door.
I hear a ping of the elevator and I turn around expecting Ana to walk back in, but it's Taylor with two men, one holding a briefcase, the other as broad as he is tall, carrying himself like hired muscle.
"Mr. Grey." Taylor introduces the younger, smarter man, who's carrying the briefcase. "This is Louis Astoria, from Astoria Fine Jewelry."
"Ah. Thank you for coming."
"My pleasure, Mr. Grey." He's animated. His ebony eyes are warm and friendly. "I have some fine pieces to show you."
"Excellent. Let's look at these in my study. If you'd like to follow me."
I know immediately which platinum ring I want. It's not the biggest; it's not the smallest. It's the finest and most elegant ring, with a four-carat diamond of the highest quality, grade D, and internally flawless clarity. It's beautiful, oval in shape, in a simple setting. The others are too fussy or too gaudy--not right for my girl.
"You've made a fine choice, Mr. Grey," he says, as he pockets my check. "I'm sure your fiancee will love it. And we can get it resized if necessary."
"Thank you again for coming. Taylor will see you out."
"Thank you, Mr. Grey." He hands me the ring box and leaves my study with Taylor. I take one more look at the ring.
I really hope she likes it. I place it in my desk drawer and sit down. I wonder if I should call Ana, just to say hi, but dismiss the idea. Instead I listen to her message once more. Hi...um...it's me. Ana. Are you okay? Call me.
Just hearing her voice is enough. I return to my work.
WHILE I'M ON THE phone with the Airbus engineer, I stare out of the window at the sky. It's the same blue as Ana's eyes. "And the Eurocopter specialist is due Monday afternoon?"
"He's flying from Marseilles-Provence near our headquarters in Marignane, to Paris, then to Seattle. It's the earliest
we can get him there. We're fortunate that our base in the Pacific Northwest is at Boeing Field."
"Good. Just keep me informed."
"We'll have our people all over the aircraft as soon as she arrives here."
"Tell them that I'll need their initial findings either Monday evening or Tuesday morning."
"Will do, Mr. Grey."
I hang up and turn back to my desk.
Ana is standing in the doorway, watching me, looking pensive and a little worried.
"Hi," she says, and she enters my study and walks around my desk until she's standing in front of me. I want to ask her why she ran, but she preempts me. "I'm back. Are you mad at me?"
I sigh and lift her into my lap. "Yes," I whisper.
You ran from me, and the last time you did that, you left me.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." She curls into me, and rests her hand and her head against my chest. Her weight is a comfort.
"Me, neither. Wear what you like." I place my hand on her knee just to reassure her, but as soon as I touch her, I want more. My desire is like an electric current through my body. It jolts me awake and makes me feel alive. I run my hand up her thigh. "Besides, this dress has its advantages."
She looks up, her eyes smoky, and I bend to kiss her.
Our lips touch, and my tongue teases hers and my libido lights up like a solar flare. I feel it in her, too. She grabs my head between her hands, as her tongue wrestles with mine.
I groan as my body responds, growing hard. Wanting her. Needing her. I nip her lower lip, her throat, her ear. She moans into my mouth and yanks my hair.
Ana.
I unzip my pants and free my erection, and pull her astride me. Stretching her lacy underwear to the side and out of the way, I sink into her. Her hands grip the back of my chair, the creak of the leather giving her away. She stares down at me and begins to move. Up and down. Fast. Her rhythm is quick and frenetic.
There's a desperation in her movements, as if she wants to make amends.
Slow, baby, slow.
I put my hands on her hips and slow her down.
Easy. Ana. I want to savor you.
I capture her mouth and she moves at a gentler pace. But her passion is in her kiss and in her touch as she tugs my head back.
Oh, baby.
She moves faster.
And faster still.
This is what she wants. She's building. I feel it. Climbing higher and higher as she moves, faster and faster.
Ah.
She falls apart in my arms and she takes me with her.
"I LIKE YOUR VERSION of sorry," I whisper.
"And I like yours." She nuzzles my chest. "Have you finished?"
"Christ, Ana, you want more?"
"No! Your work."
"I'll be done in about half an hour." I kiss her hair. "I heard your message on my voice mail."
"From yesterday."
"You sounded worried."
She hugs me. "I was. It's not like you not to respond."
I kiss her once more and we sit in quiet, peaceful togetherness. I hope she always sits in my lap like this. She fits perfectly.
Finally, she shifts. "Your cake should be ready in half an hour," she says as she stands.
"Looking forward to it. It smelled delicious, evocative even, while it was baking." She leans down and plants a tender kiss at the edge of my mouth.
I watch her sashay out of my study as I zip up my jeans and I feel...lighter. I turn and look at the view from the window. It's late afternoon and the sun is shining, although it's beginning to dip toward the Sound. There are shadows on the streets below. Down there it's already dusk, but up here the light is still golden. Maybe that's why I live here. To be in the light. I've been striving for it since I was a small boy. And it's taken an extraordinary young woman to make me realize that. Ana is my guiding light.
I'm her lost boy, now found.
ANA IS STANDING WITH a frosted chocolate cake that's adorned with a solitary flickering candle.
She sings "Happy Birthday" to me in her sweet musical voice, and I realize I've never heard her sing.
It's magical.
I blow out the candle, closing my eyes to make my wish.
I wish that Ana will always love me. And never leave me.
"I've made my wish," I inform her.
"The frosting is still soft. I hope you like it."
"I can't wait to taste it, Anastasia."
She cuts us each a slice and hands me a plate and a fork.
Here goes.
It's heavenly. The frosting is sweet, the cake moist, and the filling...Mmm. "This is why I want to marry you."
She giggles--relieved, I think--and watches me devour the rest of my cake.
ANA IS QUIET IN the car on the way to my parents' place in Bellevue. She stares out of the window but gives me an occasional glance. She looks sensational in emerald green.
There's little traffic tonight, and the R8 roars along the 520 bridge. About halfway across, Ana turns to me. "There was an additional fifty thousand dollars in my bank account this afternoon."
"And?"
"You don't--"
"Ana, you're going to be my wife. Please. Let's not fight about this."
She takes a deep breath and is silent for a while as we cruise just above the pink and dusky waters of Lake Washington. "Okay," she says. "Thank you."
"You're most welcome."
I breathe a sigh of relief.
See, that wasn't so hard, was it Ana?
On Monday, I'll take care of your student loans.
"READY TO FACE MY family?" I switch off the R8 ignition. We're parked in my parents' driveway.
"Yes. Are you going to tell them?"
"Of course. I'm looking forward to seeing their reactions." I'm excited. I step out of the car and open her door. It's a little cool this evening and she pulls her wrap around her shoulders. I take her hand and we head to the front door. The driveway is choked with cars, including Elliot's truck. It's a bigger party than I had anticipated.
Carrick opens the front door before I can knock.
"Christian, hello. Happy birthday, son." He takes my hand and engulfs me in a surprise hug.
This never happens. "Um...thanks, Dad."
"Ana, how lovely to see you again." He gives Ana a quick affectionate embrace and we follow him into the house. There's a loud clatter of heels, and I expect to see Mia running down the hallway, but it's Katherine Kavanagh. She looks mad.
"You two! I want to talk to you," she gripes.
Ana gives me a blank look and I shrug. I have no idea what Kavanagh's beef is but we follow her into the empty dining room. She shuts the door and turns on Ana. "What the fuck is this?" she hisses and waves a piece of paper at her. Ana takes it from her and reads it. Almost immediately she blanches and her startled eyes meet mine.
What the hell?
Ana steps between me and Katherine.
"What is it?" I ask, feeling anxious.
Ana ignores me and addresses Kavanagh. "Kate! This has nothing to do with you." Katherine is surprised by her reaction.
What the fuck are they talking about?
"Ana, what is it?"
"Christian, would you just go, please?"
"No. Show me." I hold out my hand and reluctantly she passes the piece of paper to me.
It's her e-mail response to the contract.
Shit.
"What's he done to you?" Katherine asks, ignoring me.
"That's none of your business, Kate." Ana sounds exasperated.
"Where did you get this?" I ask.
Kavanagh blushes. "That's irrelevant." But I stare at her and she continues. "It was in the pocket of a jacket, which I assume is yours, that I found on the back of Ana's bedroom door." She scowls at me, ready for battle.
"Have you told anyone?" I ask.
"No! Of course not," she snaps, and has the gall to look offended.
Good. I walk over to the fireplace and takin
g a lighter from the small porcelain bowl on the mantelpiece I set fire to the corner of the printout and let it float, burning, into the grate. Both women are silent, watching me.
Once it's reduced to ashes, I turn my attention back to them.
"Not even Elliot?" Ana asks.
"No one," Katherine says, and she sounds emphatic. She looks a little puzzled and maybe hurt. "I just want to know you're okay, Ana," she says, concerned.
Unseen by them both, I roll my eyes.
"I'm fine, Kate. More than fine. Please, Christian and I are good, really good--this is old news. Please ignore it," Ana pleads with her.
"Ignore it?" she says. "How can I ignore that? What's he done to you?"
"He hasn't done anything to me, Kate. Honestly--I'm good."
"Really?" she asks.
For fuck's sake.
I wrap my arm around Ana and stare at Katherine, trying and probably failing to keep the animosity out of my expression. "Ana has consented to be my wife, Katherine."
"Wife!" she exclaims, her eyes widening in disbelief.
"We're getting married. We're going to announce our engagement this evening," I inform her.
"Oh!" Katherine stares at Ana, stunned. "I leave you alone for sixteen days, and this happens? It's very sudden. So yesterday, when I said--" She stops. "Where does that e-mail fit into all this?"
"It doesn't, Kate. Forget it--please. I love him and he loves me. Don't do this. Don't ruin his party and our night," Ana begs.
Katherine's eyes fill with tears.
Shit. She's going to cry.
"No. Of course I won't. You're okay?"
"I've never been happier," Ana whispers, and my heart quickens.
Katherine grabs her hand, even though I still have my arm wrapped around Ana.
"You really are okay?" she asks, her voice full of hope.
"Yes." Ana sounds happier and she shrugs out of my hold to hug her.
"Oh, Ana--I was so worried when I read this. I didn't know what to think. Will you explain it to me?" she asks.
"One day, not now."
"Good. I won't tell anyone. I love you so much, Ana, like my own sister. I just thought--" She shakes her head. "I didn't know what to think. I'm sorry. If you're happy, then I'm happy." Katherine looks at me. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude."