"You wanted resistance." I say, panting. He rears up over me and gazes
down, his hands still locked around my wrists. I place my heels under his behind
unci push. I lc doesn't nunc, (nih:
"You don't want to play nice?" he asks astonished, his eyes alight with
"I just want you to make love to me, Christian." Could he be any more ob-
tuse? First we're fighting and wrestling then he's all tender and sweet. It's confus-
ing. I'm in bed with Mr. Mercurial.
li 1 i i> heel i backside nore. Buniii i>
search mine. Oh. when is lie thinking.' He looks momentarily bewildered and con-
fused. He releases nn hands and sits back on has heels, pulling mc into his lap.
"'Okay. Mrs. Grey, we'll do this your way." He lifts mc up and slowly lowers
me on to him so I'm straddling him.
"Ah!" This is it. This is what I want. This is what I need. Curling my arms
around his neck, I twist my fingers in his hair, glory ing in the feeling of him in-
side me. I start to move. Taking control, taking him at my pace, at my speed. He
moans, and his lips find mine, and we're lost.
I trail i I ! through ll hair on C hrislian hest. I I i a d
and qniel beside mc as we both ealeh our breath. His hand thrums rhy thmically
down my back.
"You're quiet," I whisper and kiss his shoulder. 1 ie turns and looks at me, his
expression gi ing nothing away. ""That was fun." Shii. is something wrong'.'
"You confound me, Mrs. Grey."
"Confound you?"
He shifts so that we're face to face. "Yes. You. Calling the shots. It's . . .
different."
"Good different or bad different?" I trail a finger over his lips. His brow fur-
row., as if he doesn't unite understand the question, bsenlmindcdly, he kisses
"Good different," he says, but he doesn't sound convinced.
really want to know any more about my husband's colorful . . . um, kaleidoscopic
sex life before mc? My subconscious eyes me warily over her tortoiscshcll half-
moon specs. Do rim reallr wain lo «» lhere'1
"No, Anastasia. You can touch mc." It's a simple explanation that speaks
volumes. Of course, the fifteen couldn't.
"Mrs. Robinson could touch you." i murmur I lie words before my brain re-
gisters what I've said. Shit. Why did I mention her?
He stills. His eyes widen with his oh-no-w herc's-shc-going-w ilh-lhis expres-
sion. "That was different," he whispers.
Suddenly I want to know. "Good different or bad different?"
He gazes at me. Doubt and possibly pain flit across his face, and flcctingly he
looks like a man drowning.
"Bad, I think." His words are barely audible.
Holy shit!
"I thought you liked it."
"I did. At the time."
"Not now?"
He gazes at me, eyes wide, then slowly shakes his head.
Oh my... "Oh, Christian." I'm overwhelmed by the feelings that swamp me.
My lost boy. I launch myself at him and kiss his face, his throat, his chest, his
little round scars. lie groan lis me to him. and ki is i n
very slowly, and tenderly, at his pace, he makes love to me once more.
chen for breakfast, lie's sitting w ill) Mia. ami Kate at the breakfast bar while Mrs.
Bentlcy cooks waffles. C hrislian is now here to be seen.
"Good morning, Mrs. Grey." Mrs. Bentley smiles. "What would you like for
breakfast?"
"Good Morning. Whatever's going, thank you. Where's Christian?"
"( Hilside." Kate gestures with her head toward the backyard. I wander over to
the window that looks out over the yard and the mountains beyond. It's a clear,
powder-blue summer day . aad my beautiful husband is about twenty feet away in
deep discussion w ith sonic guy .
"That's Mr. Bentley he's talking to," calls Mia from the breakfast bar. I turn
to look at hci, disti i . d by till t u - looks 110111 y at htha
Icr once m lii K een (hem. Frowning, I turn my at-
tention back to my husband and Mr. Bcntlcy.
Mrs. Bcntlcy's husband is fair-haired, dark eyed and wiry, dressed in work
pants and an Aspen Fire Department T-shirt. C hrislian is dressed in ins blaek
jeans and T-shirt. As (lie In o men amble across the law a low ard the house lost in
their conversation. C hristian casually bends to pick up what looks like a bamboo
cane that must have been blown over or discarded in the flowerbed. Pausing,
Christian abscnlmindedly holds out the cane at arm's length as if weighing it care-
fully and swipes it through the air, just once.
Oh...
Mr. Bcntlcy appears to see nothing odd in his behavior. They continue their
discussion, nearer to the house this time, then pause once more, and Christian re-
peals the gesture. The lip of the cane hits the ground Glancing up. Christian sees
me standing at the w indow . Suddenly I feel as if I 'in spying on him. He stops. I
give him an embarrassed wa e then turn and walk back to the breakfast bar.
"What were you doing?" asks Kate.
"Just watching Christian."
"You have got it bad." She snorts.
"And you don't, oh soon-to-be sister-in-law?" I reply, grinning and trying to
bury the disquieting visual of ( 'hrislian w iclding a cane. 1 am startled when Kate
leaps up and hugs me.
"Sister!" she exclaims, and it's hard nol to be swept up in her joy.
"I lew. sleepy head." ( 'hrislian wakes me. " e're about to land. Buckle up "
I rumble sleepily for my seat belt, but Christian fastens it for me. He kisses my
forehead before settling back into his seat. I lean my head on his shoulder again
and close m eyes.
An impossibly long hike and a picnic lunch on top of a spectacular mountain
have exhausted mc. The rest of our party is quiet, too — even Mia. She looks des-
pondent, as she his I i I I i [i Lilian is oing I
don't even know vv I h 1 il 1 in I i 1 i t 1 1 hers ind I give i
small are-you-oka> smile. She gi es me ,. brio!" sad smile in relnrn and goes back
lo her book. I peek up at Christian ihtough my lashes, lie's working on a contract
or something, reading ii through nr.,.! annotating llie margins. But he seems re-
laxed. Elliot is snoring softly beside Kate.
1 have yet to comer Llliol and quiz him aboul ( iia. but it's been impossible to
i hmi ill i I * i i in i i ml ! i s i igli i 1 hieh is irril
ing, but I haven't pressed him. We've been enjoying ourselves too much. Elliot
rests his hand possessively on Kale's knee. She looks radiant, and to think that
only yesterday afternoon she was so unsure of him. What did Christian call him?
Abrupllv. Llliot opens his eyes and gazes straight at me. I blush, caught staring.
her self-satisfied, cat-atc-thc-canary smile.
Officer Beighley announces our approach to Sea-Tac, and Christian clasps
my hand.
"How was your weekend, Mrs. Grey?" Christian asks once we're in the Audi
heading back to Escala. Taylor and Ryan are up front.
"Good, thank you." I smile, feeling shy all of a sudden.
1 e c 1 , - ik r;ike anvo - .in vv ish to lake
"We should take Ray. He'd like the fishing."
"That's a good idea."
"How was it for you?" I ask.
"Good," he says after a moment, surprised by my question, I think. "Real
"You seemed to relax."
1 1c shrugs. "I knew you were safe."
I frown. "Christum. I'm sale most of Ihe lime. I've lold you before, you'll
keel over at foit il i ecp up this I I i i i I int to grow old and
gray with you." I grasp his hand. He looks at me as if he can't comprehend vv hal
Imsiun, He genii i uekl I I inges the subject.
"1 low 's your hand?"
"It's belter, thank you."
He smiles. "Very good, Mrs. Grey. You ready to face Gia again?"
Oh crap. I'd forgotten we were seeing her this evening to go over the final
plans. I roll my eyes. "I might want to keep you out of the way, keep you safe." I
"Proleeiing me'.'" Chrisiian is laughing at me.
"As ever, Mr. Grey. From all sexual predators," I whisper.
Christian is brushing his teeth when I crawl into bed. Tomorrow we go back to
reality — back to work, the paparazzi, and to .lack in custody hut with the possibil-
ity that he has an accomplice. Hmm . . . Christian was vague about that. Does he
know? And if he did know, w ould lie fell mc? 1 sigh, (foiling information oul of
Christian is like pulling teeth, and we've had such a lovely weekend. Do I want to
ruin the feel-good moment by trying to drag the information out of him?
It's been a revelation to see him out of his normal environment, outside this
apartment, relaxed and happy with his family. I wonder vaguely if it's because
we're here in this a| 11 i i i h ill is m n i . unions that he gets
wound up. Maybe we should move.
1 snort. We are moving — we're having a huge house refurbished on the coast.
Gia's plans are complete and approved, and Elliot's team starts building next
week. 1 chuckle as I recall t iia's shocked expression w hen i told her that I'd seen
her in Aspen. Turns out it was nothing but co-incidence. She'd camped out at her
holiday place to work solely on our plans. For one awful moment I'd thought
she'd had a hand in choosing the ring, but apparently not. But I still don't trust
Gia. I want to hear the same slorv from klliot. Al Icasl she kept her distance from
Christian this lime.
Seattle at our feet, so full of possibilities, yet so far removed. Maybe that's Chris-
self-imposed exile. Yet w ith his family around him, he is less controlling, less
anxious — freer, happier. 1 wonder what Hynn would make of all that. Holy crap!
Maybe that's the answer. Maybe he needs his own family. 1 shake my head in
denial — we're too young, too new to all this. Christian strides into the room, look-
ing his usual gorgeous but pensive self.
I shake my head and caress his lovely lace " had a wonderful weekend.
Thank you."
He smiles softly. "You're my reality, Ana," he murmurs and kisses mc.
"Do you miss it?"
"Miss what?" he asks, perplexed.
"You know. The caning . . . and stuff." 1 w hisper. embarrassed.
He stares at me, his gaze impassive. Then doubt crosses his face, his where-
is-she-going-w ith-this look.
"No Anastasia, I don't." His voice is steady and quiet. He caresses my cheek.
"Dr. Flynn said something lo me w lien you left, something mat's stayed with mc.
He said I couldn't be that way if you weren't so inclined. It was a revelation." He
stops, and frowns. "I didn't know any other way, Ana. Now I do. It's been
educational."
"Mc, educate you?" I scoff.
His eyes soften. "Do you miss it?" he asks.
Oh! "I don't want you to hurl me. but I like lo plus. < hristian. You know
that. If you wanted to do something ..." I shrug, gazing at him.
"Something?"
"You know, with a flogger or your crop — " I stop, blushing.
He raises his brow . surprised. "Well . . . we'll see. Right now, I'd like some
good old-fashioned vanilla." His thumb skirts my bottom lip, and he kisses me
Subject: Good Morning
Date: August 29, 2011 09:14
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey
I just wanted to tell you that I love you.
That is all.
Yours Always
I am sure you can think of a way to spice up the dinner .
"Sure. Yes," I mutter Irving to hall m wayward thoughts. She grins and
ducks out of my office . . . Iea ma me w itli m delicious memory of last night.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Hyde
Date: September l, 2011
To: Anastasia Grey
0, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Hyde
Date: September 1, 2011 15:53
To: Christian Grey
That's good news.
Docs this mean you'll lighten up on security?
I really don't see eye to eye with Prescott.
US**-
Subject: Don't tempt me.
Date: September l, 2011 16:11
To: Anastasia Grey
Icanassuieou All 1 1 111 1 firn itt Ud— has this not been
demonstrated often enough by your good self?
My palm, however, is twitching.
I li ht di 1 hi 1 in < ut ill J t 11 lit
Christian Grey
Not bald yet CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Squirm
Date: September 1, 2011 16:20
To: Christian Grey
Now stop pestering me. I am trying to work; I have an impromptu meeting with an
author. Will try not to be distracted by thoughts of you during the meeting.
Commissioning Editor, SIP
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Sailing & Soaring S: Spankin S
Date: September 5, 2011 09:18
To: Christian Grey
Husband
You sure know how to show a girl a good time.
I shall of course be expecting this kind of treatment every weekend.
You are spoiling me. I love it.
Your wife
Anastasia Grey
Commissioning Editor, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Subject: My Life's Mission . . .
Date: Septembers, 2011 09:25
To: Anastasia Grey
Is to spoil you, Mrs. Grey.
And keep you safe because I love you.
Christian Grey
Smitten CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Oh my. Could he be any more romantic?
Subject: My Life's Mission .
Date: September 5, 2011 09:;
To: Christian Grey
Is to let you— because I love you, too.
Now stop being so sappy.
You are making me cry.
Anastasia Grey
Equally Smitten Commissioning Editor, SIP
The following day, I gaze at the calendar on my desk. Only five days until
September 10 — my birthday. 1 know we are driving out to the house to see how
Elliot and his cieu re progrt ng. limn I uond i < hi istian has any other
plans? I smile at the thought. Hannah taps on my door.
"Hi, Ana," says Hannah. "There's a Leil 1 Ilium c o see ou? She says
"Leila Williams? I don't know a . . ." My mouth goes dry, and Hannah's eyes
Leila? Tuck. What does she want?
Chapter Sixteen
i sou want me lo send her ;ma :" ] lannali asks, alarmed ai m expression.
"Urn, no. Where is she?"
""In reecplion. She's not alone. She's accompanied by another young
"And Miss Prcscott wants to talk to you," Hannah adds.
""(me me ;i monienl. i lannah Preseolt. lake a seal."'
I lannah climes the dour. lea mg Prescott and me alone.
"Mrs. Grey, Leila illiams is on our proseribed list of visitors."
"What?" / have a proscribed list"?
"On our watch lisi. ma'am. Ta lor and Welch ha e been quite specific about
noi Idling bet come into contact w iili you."
I frown, not undcrsianding. ""Is she dangerous?'
"Why do I even know that she's here?"
Prescott swallows and for a moment looks awkward. "I was on a restroom
01 SI 11 1 (in i ( 1 n i I 1 1 i n 1
"Oh. I see." I realize that e en Preseoll lias io pee. raid 1 laugh. "Oh dear."
"Yes ma'am." Prescott gives me an embarrassed grin, and it's the first time
"I need to talk 1 ' i 1 1 i i i n hot tone weary.
"Sure. Does Taylor know she's here?" I cross my fingers unconsciously, hop-
ing she hasn't told Christian.
Oh. "Then I only have a short time. I'd like to know what she wants."
Prescott gazes at me for a moment. "I must advise against it, ma'am."
"She's here to see me for a reason."
"I really want n la 1, I h 1 i 1 i Iy loi more forceful than I
Prescott stifles her sigh. "I'd like to search them both before you do."
"Okay. Can you do that?"
"I'm here to protect you, Mrs. Grey, so yes, I can. I'd also like to stay with
you while you talk."
"Okay." I'll gram her ibis concession. Besides, lasi lime 1 met Leila, she was
armed. "Go ahead."
Prescott rises.
"Hannah," I call.
Hannah opens the door loo quickly She musi have been hoering outside.
"Can you cheek lo see if the meeting room is free, please?"
"I already have, and it's good to go."
"Prescott, can you search ihem in there'.' K il pri ate enough?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'll he Ihere in five minutes, then. Hannah, show Leila Williams and
« homeer she's with into the meeting room "
"Will do." Hannah looks anxiously from Prescott to me. "Shall I cancel your
next meeting? It's at four, but it's across tow n."
"Yes." I murmur, distracted. Hannah nods then leaves.
What the hell does Leila want? I don't think she's here to do me any harm.
She didn't in the past « hen she had the opportunity. ( 'lirisiian i.s going to go nuts.
My subconscious purses her hps. primly crosses her lugs, and nods. 1 need to tell
him that I am doing this. 1 type ;i quick e-mail, then pause, checking the time. I
feel a momentary pang of regret. e'e been ceiling along so well since Aspen. I
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Visitors
Date: September 6, 2011 15:27
To: Christian Grey-
Leila is here to see me. I will see her with Prescott.
I'll use my newly 11 ' 111 I si ppit I II ith 111 111 h< tied hand should I need
gray pencil skirt over my hips, pinch my cheeks to give them some color, and
undo the next button on my gray silk blouse. Okay, I'm ready. After taking a deep
brcalh. I head onl of my office lo nice! the infamous Leila ignoring "Your Love is
kma" liumming gently from inside my desk.
Leila looks much heller. More lhan heller she's very allraclive. There's a
rosy bloom to her cheeks, and her brow n e es are origin, her hair clean and shiny.
She's dressed in a pale pink blouse and white pants. She stands as soon as I enter
the meeting room, as does her friend — another dark-haired young woman wilh
soft brown eyes, the color of brandy. Prescott hovers in the comer, not taking her
eyes off Leila.
"Mrs. Grey, thank you so much for seeing me." Leila's voice is soft but clear.
"Um . . . Sorry about the security," I mutter because I cannot think what else
to say. I wave a hand dislractedly al Prescoli.
"This is my friend, Susi."
"Hi." I nod at Susi. She looks like Leila. She looks like me. Oh, no. Another
"Ycs,"Lcilts rea my th S i n s Mi Grey, too."
What the hell am I supposed lo say to that'? I give her a polite smile.
There's a knock on the door. It's Hannah. I motion her in, knowing full v ell
w in she's disturbing us.
"Tell him I'm busy."
"He was quite insistent." she sa s fearfully.
"I am sure he was. Would you apologize to him, and say I'll call him back
very shortly?"
"Hannah, please."
She nods and scurries out of the room. I turn back to the two women silling in
front of me. They are both staring at me in awe. It's uncomfortable.
"What can I do for you?" I ask.
Susi speaks. "I know this is all kinds of weird, but I wanted to meet you, too.
The woman who captured Chris — "
I hold up my hand, slopping her in mid-sentence. 1 do not want to hear this.
"Um ... I get the picture," I mutter.
"We call ourselves the sub club." She grins at me, her eyes shining with
Oh my God.
Leila gasps and gapes ai Sum. at once amused ami appalled. Susi winces. I
suspect Leila's kicked her under the tabic.
What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I glance nervously at Prescott,
who remains impassh e. her e es ne or leaving Leila.
Susi seems to remember herself. She blushes, [hen nods and stands. "I'll wait
in reception. This is Lulu's show." I can tell she's embarrassed.
Lulul
"You'll be okay?" she asks Leila, who smiles up at her. Susi gives me a
large, open, genuine smile and exits the room.
Susi and Christian . . . it's not a thought I wish to dwell on. Prescott takes her
phone out of her pocket and answers it. I didn't hear it ring.
"Mr. Grey." she says. I.ctla and 1 turn to look at her. Prescott closes her eyes
"Yes, sir," she says, stepping forward, and hands me the phone.
stand and stride briskly out of the room.
"What the fuck are you playing at?" he shouts. He's seething.
"Don't shout at me."
"What do you mean don't shoul at you?" he shouts, louder tins lime. "I gave
specific instructions h you compl I it igatn Hell, Ana, I
"Don't you hang up on me," he hisses.
"Good-bye, Christian." I hang up and switch off Prescott' s phone.
Holy shit. 1 don't haw long with Leila. Taking a deep breath, I reenter the
meeting room. Both Leila and Prescott look up at me expectantly, and 1 hand
Prescott her phone.
"Where were we?" I ask Leila as I sit back down opposite her. Her eyes
widen slightly.
Yes. Apparently, I handle him, I want to say to her. But 1 don't think she
wants to hear that.
Leila fiddles nervously with the ends of her hair. "First, I wanted to apolo-
gize," she says softly.
Oh...
She glances up and registers my surprise. "Yes," she says quickly. "And to
thank you for not pressing charges. You know — for your car and in your
apartment."
"I know you weren't . . . urn, well," I murmur, reeling. I hadn't expected an
apology.
"No, I wasn't."
"You're feeling better now?" I ask gently.
"Much. Thank you."
"Docs your doctor know you're here'.'"
She shakes her head.
Oh.
She looks suitably guilty. "1 know I'll have to deal with the fallout for this
later. But I had to get some things, and I wanted to see Susi, and you, and . . . Mr.
"You want to sec Christian?" My stomach free-falls to the floor. That's why
"Yes. I wanted to ask you if that would be okay."
Holy fuck. I gape at her, and I want to tell her that it's not okay. I don't want
her anywhere near my husband. Why is she here? To assess the opposition? To
unsettle me? Or perhaps- .he need'- this as some sort of closure?
"Leila." I flounder cvij.pcr.Hctl. "It's not up to me, it's up to Christian.
You'll need to ask him. He doesn't need my permission. He's a grown man . . .
most of the time."
She gazes at me for a fraction of a beat as if surprised by my reaction then
laughs softly, nervously twiddling the end of her hair.
"He's repeatedly refused all m> requests to sec him," she says quietly.
Oh shit. I'm in more trouble than I thought.
"Why is it so important for you to see him?" I ask gently.
"To thank him. I'd be rotting in a slinking prison psychiatric facility if it
wasn't for him. I know that." She glances down and runs her finger along the edge
I I I I i t t It
John — Dr. Flynn . . ." She shrugs and gazes at me once more, her face full of
gratitude.
Once again I'm speechless. What does she expect me to say? Surely she
should be saying these thing- to < hristian. not me
"And for art school. I can't thank him enough for that."
/ knew it! Christian is funding her classes. ! remain expressionless, tentatively
exploring my feelings for this woman now that she's confirmed my suspicions
about Christian's generosity. To my surprise, I feel no ill will toward her. It's a
revelation, and I'm glad she's better. Now, hopefully, she can move on with her
life and out of ours.
"Are you missing lasses right no I ask. I cause I'm interested.
Oh good. "What are your plans, while you're here?"
"Pick up my bel ng from S elurn to I laiiK nlinue painting ind
learning. Mr. Grey already has a couple of my paintings."
What the hell.' Yh stomach plunges into the basement once more. Arc the)
hanging in my living raam'.' I hi idle at the thought.
"What sort of painting do you do?"
"Abstracts, mainly."
"I see." My min In h th familiar paintii 1 i
Two by his ex-sub . . . possibly. Jeez.
"Mrs. Gic e in i i! i u h i ill' hhuous to my war-
ring emotions.
"By ah means." I mutter, glancing at Preseoit. who looks like she's relaxed a
little. Leila leans forward as if to impart a long-held secret.
"I loved Geoff, my boyfriend who died earlier this year." Her voice drops to
a sad whisper.
"My husband." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
"Yes." She mouths the word.
This is not news to me. When she lifts her brown eyes to mine, they are wide
with conflicting emotions, and the overriding one seems to be apprehension ...of
my reaction pcthip But in t In m i I pool oung woman
is compassion. Menially I run through all the classical literature 1 can think of thai
deals with unrequited love. Swallow mg hard. I clutch the moral high ground.
"I know. He's very easy to love," I whisper.
I ler idc eyes widen fiirther in surprise, and she smiles. "Yes. He is — was."
She corrects hcrseli |ni uid I riien .1 _ mi sweetly that I can't
help myselt I gtggk ( 1 11 ' 1 i 1 l M subconscious
rolls her eyes at me in despair and goes back to reading her dog-eared cop> of
Jane Eyre. 1 glance at my watch. Deep down 1 know Christian will be here soon.
"You'll get your chance to see Christian."
"I thought I would. I know how protective he can be." She smiles.
So this is hei sell me. SI c I > whispers my sub-
conscious. "This is why you're here to sec mc?"
"Yes."
"I see." And Chi 11 ing right ii 1 1 1 luctantly, I have to
acknowledge lhal she knows him well.
"He seemed very happy. With you," she says.
What! "How would you know?"
"From when I was in the apartment." She adds cautiously.
Oh hell . . . how could I forget that?
"Were you there often?"
"No. But he was very different with you."
Do I want to hear this? A shudder runs through me. M scalp prickles as I re-
call my fear when she w as the unseen shadow in our apartment.
"You know its .11 1 Trespassing."
She nods, gazing down at the table. She runs a fingernail along the edge. "It
Mr. ( ires for that. I [e could have had me throw n in jail."
SuddcnK there is a Hum ol'aetiit outside the meeting room, and instinct-
ively 1 know that Christian is in the building. A moment later he hursts through
the door, and before he closes it, I catch Taylor's eye as he stands patiently out-
side. Taylor's mouth is set in a grim line, and he doesn't return my tight smile. Oh
hell, even he's mad at me.
Christian's burning gray gaze pins first me then Leila to our chairs. His de-
meanor is quietly determined but I kno w better, and ! suspect Leila does, too. The
menacing cool glint in his exes reveals the truth he's emanating rage, though he
hides it well. In his gray suit, with his dark tic loosened and the top button of his
white shirt undone, he look-, at once businesslike and casual . . . and hot. His hair
is in disarray — no doubt because he's been running his hands through it in
exasperation.
Leila looks nu I 111 III 11 ng her index finger
along the edge again as Christian looks from me to her and then to Prescott.
"You," he says to Prescott in a soft tone. "You're fired. Get out now."
"'Chrislkin — " I make to stand up.
I le holds his index finger up at me in warning. "Don't," he says. His voice so
ominously quiet thai I'm immediate!) silenced and rooted to my seal. Bowing her
head, Prescott walks briskly out of the room to join Taylor. Christian shuts the
door behind her and walks to the edge of the table. Crap! Crap! Crap! That was
my fault. Christian stands opposite Leila, and placing both hands on the wooden
surface, he leans forward.
i ih I 1 i ti hei i i
"Christum!" I gasp. He ignores me.
"Well?" he demands.
Leila peeks up al him through king lashes, her eyes ide. her face ashen, her
rosy glow gone.
"I wanted to see you, and you wouldn't let me," she whispers.
Leila looks down at the table again.
He stands, glowering at her. "Leila, if ou come anywhere near my wife
again, I will cut off all support. Doctors, art school, medical insurance — all of
it — gone. Do you understand?"
"Christian — " I try again. But he silences me with a chilling look. Why is he
eing so u ca mable Iy co n| i >n i ihi I worn bloo
"Yes," she says, her voice just audible.
innah doing ii tioi
"She came with me."
He runs a hand lhr< h his h rill it he
"Christian, please," I beg him. "Leila just wants to say thank you. Thai's all."
He ignores me. concentrating his wrath on Leila. "Did you stay with Susan-
nah while you were sick?"
"Yes."
"Did she know what you v. ere doing w bile you were staying with her?"
"No. She was away on vacation."
He strokes his index finger over his lower lip. "Why do you need to see me?
You know you should send am requests through Khun. Do > on need something?"
His tone has solicited. m;i>be by a fraction.
Leila runs her ringer along the edge of the table again.
Stop bullying her. Christian.'
"I had to know." And for the first time site looks up direelh at him.
"Had to know what?" he snaps.
"That you're okay."
lie gapes at her. "Thai I'm okay 1 '" he sculls, disbelieving.
"Yes."
"I'm fine. There, question answered. Now Taylor will run you to Sea-Tac so
you can go back to the East Coast. And if you take one step west of the Missis-
sippi, it's all gone. Understand?"
Hoh fuck (i 1 i n it 1 n 1 t fin eating him? He can-
"Yes. I understand," Leila says quietly.
Christian glares at me. "Anastasia," he warns, his voice icy, "this does not
1 scowl at him. Of course it concerns me. She's in my office. There must be
more to this than I know. He's not being rational.
"Leila came to see me, not you," 1 murmur petulantly.
Leila turns lo me. lierees impossibh wide
"I had my instrui i ircy. I d hem." S lances nervousK
at m> husband, then back at me.
"This is the Christian t ncy ! know ." she sa> s. her lone sad and wistful. Chris-
tian frowns at her. while all Ihe breath evaporates from my lungs. I can't breathe.
Was Christian like this with her all the time? Was he like this with me, at first? I
find it hard to rente t i ei i 11 forlon lilc. Leil s from the table.
"I'd like to stay until tomorrow. My flight is at noon," she says quietly to
Christian.
"I'll have someone collect you at ten to take you to the airport."
"Thank you."
""You're at Susannah's?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
1 glare at Christian, lie can't dictate to her like this . . . and how docs he
know where Susannah lives?
"Good-bye, Mrs. Grey. Thank you for seeing me."
I stand and hold out my hand. She takes it gratefully and we shake.
"Um . . . good-bye. Good luck," I mutter, because I'm not sure what the pro-
tocol is for saying farewell to my husband's ex-submissive.
She nods and turns to him. ""( iood-bye. Christian."
Christian's eyes soften a little. "Good-bye, Leila." His is voice low. "Dr.
"Yes, Sir."
1 Ic opens the door to usher Iter out. hit; she halls in front of him and looks up.
He stills, watching her warily.
"I'm glad you're happy. You deserve to be," she says and leaves before he
can reply. He frowns alter her. diet; nods to Ta lor. v ho follow s Leila toward the
"Don't even think about being angry with me," I hiss. "Call Claude Bastille
His mouth drops open; he's so surprised by my outburst, and his brow
"You promised you wouldn't do this." Now his tone is accusatory.
"Do what?"
"Defy me."
"No I didn't. I said I'd be more considerate. I told you she was here. I had
Prcscott search her, and our other little friend, loo. Prescolt was with me the en-
tire time. Now you've fired the poor woman, when she was only doing what I
asked. I told you not to worry, yet here you are. I don't remember receiving your
papal bull decreeing thai I couldn't see Leila. I didn't know that my visitors were
subject to a proscribed list." My voice rises with indignation as I warm to my
c uisc Christian i me mcnt his mouth
"Papal bull?" he says, amused, and he visibly relaxes. 1 wasn't aiming lo
lighten our conversation, vol here lie is smirking al me. am! that makes me mad-
der. The exchange between hint and his ex was painful lo w itness. How could he
be so cold with her?
"What?" h
"You. Why were you so callous toward her?"
I le sighs and shifts, stepping lew ard me and perching on the table.
"Anastasia," he says as if to a child. "You don't understand. Leila, Susan-
nah — all of them — th c U in erlin isli i I ul that's all. You are
the center of my universe. And the last time you two were in a room together, she
had you at gunpoint. I don't want her anywhere near you."