I make my way slow b. and quiet K to the loser, aware ol'thc CCTV camera
which is trained on the elevator I think Sawyer's still in Taylor's office. Cau-
tiously, I open the l'o> ei ii ' little noi is po 'Me Shutting il quiclly
behind me, I stand on the very threshold, up against the door, out of the view of
the CCTV lens. I fish my cell phone out of my purse and call Sawyer.
"Mrs. Grey."
"Sawyer, I'm in the room upstairs, will ou gic me a hand with something?"
I keep my voice low km ng h just dow n the hal i the ilher side of this
"I'll be tight with you, ma'am," he says, and I hear his confusion. I've never
telephoned him lb 1 " help before. My heart is m my throat, pounding in a jarring,
frenetic rhythm. Will this work? I hang up and listen as his footsteps cross the
I i t I 1 t t I t I
template the irony i I m tint m> own hi me I 1 i I
Once Sawyer's reached the upstairs landing, I race to the elevator and punch
the call button. The doors slide open with the too-loud ping that announces the cl-
cvatot Is le ld Id h e !i I inn ! 1 th it I i t I il I
age. After an agonizing pause, the doors slow 1 start to slide shut, and as they do I
"Mrs. Grey!" Just as the elevator doors close, I see him skid into the foyer.
The elevator sinks smoothly down to the garage level. I have a couple of
minutes' start on Sawyer, and I know he'll try to stop me. I glance longingly at
my R8 as I rash to the Saab, open the door, toss the duffel bag onto the passenger
scat, and slide into the driver's seat.
1 start the car, and the tires squeal as I race to the entrance and wait eleven
agonizing seconds for the barrier to lift. The instant it's clear 1 drive out, catching
sight of Sawyer in my rear lew mirror as he ; lashes out of sen ice ele alor into lite
garage. His bew ildered, injured expression haunts me as I turn off the ramp onto
Fourth Avenue.
I let out my long held breath. 1 know Saw er will ten I (. hnstian or Taylor, but
I'll deal with that when I have to — I don't have time to dwell on it now. I squirm
uncomfortably in tm -.eat. know ing in my heart of heart', that Sawyer's probably
lost his job. Don 't dwell. I have to save Mia. 1 have to get to the bank and collect
five million dollars. I glance in the rearview mirror, nervously anticipating the
sight of the SUV bursting forth from the garage, but as I drive away, there's no
sign of Sawyer.
The bank is sleek, modern. ;ind understated There arc hushed tones, echoing
floors, and pale g c 111
"May I help you, ma'am?" The young woman gives me a bright, insincere
smile, and for a menu I regret c u ging into jeans.
"I'd like to withdraw a large sum of money."
Ms. Insincere Smile arches an even more insincere eyebrow.
"You have an account w ith us?" She tails to hide her sarcasm.
"Yes," I snap. "My husband and I have several accounts here. His name is
Christian Grey."
Her eyes widen li iclii il md i im I; ghes. \ i to shock Hei eyes
sweep up and down me once more, this time with a combination of disbelief and
"This wa> ma'am ii i ic n il spuscly furnished
office walled with more green-etched glass.
"Please take a scat." She gesiures to a black leathci chair by a glass desk
bearing a slale-ol'-lhc-arl computer and phone. "How much will you be w ithdraw-
ing today, Mrs. Grey?" she asks pleasantly.
"Fixe million dollars." ! look her straight in the eve as if I ask lor this amount
of cash every day.
She blanches. "I see. I'll fetch the manager. Oh, forgive me for asking, but do
you have ID?"
"Of course, Mrs. Grey." She scurries out. I sink into the seat, and a wave of
nausea washes over me as the _ u mlbrtabl nto the small of my
passes. Nervously, I check my watch. Twenty-five past two.
sharp, expensive charcoal suit and matching lie. lie holds out his hand.
"Mrs. Grey. I'm Tro Whelan." I le -miles, we shake, and he sits down at the
desk opposite me.
"My colleague tells me you'd like to withdraw a large amount of money."
"That's correct. Five million dollars."
He turns to his sleek computer and taps in a few numbers.
"We normally ask for some notice for large amounts of money." He pauses,
and flashes mc i i iring but su ilious smil i milch however, we
hold the cash rcsei I i t ^ k lit P i N Invest i > ists /ar / In tn
ing 10 impre.w me''
"Mr. Whclan, I'm in a hurry. What do I need to do? I have my driver's li-
cense, and om pnl iii ic I ol I >< I just write a check?"
"Firsl tilings first, Mrs. Grey. May I see the ID?" He switches from jovial
show-off to serious banker.
"Here." I hand over my license.
"Mrs. Grey . . . this says Anastasia Steele."
Oh shit.
"Oh . . . yes. Um."
"I'll call Mr. Grey."
"Oh no. thai won't bo necessary." Shil: "i must luue something with my mar-
ried name." I rifle through my purse. What do I have with my name on it? I pull
out my wallet, open it and find a photograph of Christian and trie, on the bed in
Fair Lady's cabin. / can 't show him that! I dig out my black Amcx.
"Here."
"Mrs. Anastasia Grey," Whelan reads. "Yes, that should do." He frowns,
tt i 1 re it Mrs. Grey.
"Do you want me to I el m h usbai thai i Mias been less than
cooperative?" 1 square m shoulders am! gic him m> most forbidding stare.
He pauses, momentarih reassessing me. 1 think. "You'll need to write a
check. Mrs (irev."
"Sure. This account?" I show him my checkbook, trying to quell my pound-
you'll excuse me for a moment?"
I nod, and he rises and stalks out of the office. Again. I release my held
breath. I had no idea this would be so difficult. Clumsily, I open my checkbook
and pull a pen out of my purse. Do I just make it out to cash? I have no idea. With
shaking fingers 1 w rite: Five million dollars. $5,000,000.
Oh God, I hope Fm doing the right thing. Mia, think of Mia. I can't tell
anyone.
Jack's chilling i i I i i Tell no on or I'll fuck her up
before 1 kill her."
Mr. Whclan returns, pale-faced and sheepish.
"Mrs. Grey? Your husband wants to speak with you," he murmurs and points
to the phone on the glass table between us.
What? No.
"He's on line one. Just press the button. I'll be outside." He has the grace to
look embarrassed. Benedict Arnold has nothing on Whelan. I scowl at him, feel-
he blood ] I 1 I 1 ill I !
Shit! Shit! Shit! What am I going to say to Christian? He'll know. He'll inter-
vene. He's a danger to his sister. My hand trembles as 1 reach for the phone. I
hold it against my ear, trying to calm my erratic breathing, and press the button
"Hi," I murmur, trying in;iin lo steads ms iters es.
"You're leaving n C hrislian's word-, are ai mized. I lis spei
What?
"No!" My voice mirrors his. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no— how can he think that?
The money? He thii I'l i i > 1 id in moment of hor-
rific clarity, I realize the only was I'm going lo keep Christian at arm's length, out
of harm's way, and to save his sister ... is to lie.
"Y
es," I whisper. And searing pain lances through me, tears springing to my
eyes.
He gasps, almost a sob. "Ana, I — " He chokes.
No! Ms hand clutches my mouth as I stifle in; warring emotions. "Christian,
please. Don't." I fight back tears.
"You're going?" he says.
"Yes."
"But why the cash? Was it always the money?" His tortured voice is barely
audible.
No! Tears roll down my face. "No," 1 w hisper.
""Is Use million enough?"
Oh please, stop!
"Yes."
'"And I he baby?" His voice is a breathless echo.
What'.' My hand moves from my mouth to my belly. "I'll take care of the
baby," I murmur. My Little Blip ...our Little Blip.
"This is what you want?"
Not
"Yes."
lie i nil ilc Hi I 1 t ' i } i i ^ s
"Christian." I sob, "It's for you. For your family. Please. Don't."
"Take it all, Anastasia."
"C hristian — " And I nearly cave. Nearly tell him — about Jack, about Mia,
ibout the ransom. J i I .silently I it
"I'll always love you." His voice is hoarse. He hangs up.
"Christian! No ... I love you, too." And all the stupid shit that wc put each
other through oe the last II to insignificance 1 piomiscd I'd nev-
er leave him. I am not lca ing you. I am sa ing our sister. I slump into the chair,
weeping copiously into my hands.
I am interrupted by a timid knock on the door. \ helan enters, though I
haven't acknowledged hint. He look* everywhere hut at me. He's mortified
Van i iilUd Iniii. '.mi l':ii,i;-.i' I glare at him.
on have carle blanche. Mr>. he siv "Mr. (irc ha* agreed lo lique-
fy some of his assets. He says you can have whatever you need."
"I just need fic million dollars." I mullet through grilled leelh.
"Yes ma'am. Are you all right?"
"Do I look all right?" I snap.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. Some water?"
I nod, sullenly. I i e jusi left m si mi A'ell Christian thinks I have. My
subconscious purses her lips Bei ausc you told him so.
could just sign here, ma'am . . . and make the check out to cash and sign that,
He places a form on the table. I scrawl my signature along the dotted line of
the check, then the form. Anastasia Grey. Teardrops fall on the desk, narrowly
missing the paperwork.
"I'll take those, ma'am. It will take us about half an hour to prepare the
money."
I quickly check my watch. Jack said two hours — that should take us to two
hours. I nod to \ helan. and he tiptoes out of the office. Iea ing mc to my misery.
A few moments, minutes, hours later — I don't know — Miss Insincere Smile
reenters with a carafe of water and a glass.
"Mrs. Grey," she says softly as she places the glass on the desk and fills it.
"Thank you." ! take die glass and drink gratefully. She exits, leaving me w id)
my jumbled, frightened thoughts. I will fix things with Christian somehow ... if
it's nol loo laic. At least he's out of Ike picture. Right now 1 have lo concentrate
on Mia. Suppose Jack is lying? Suppose he doesn't ha e her? Surely I should call
the police.
"Tell no one or 111 fuck her up before I kill her. " I can't. I sit back in the
chair, feeling the reassuring presence of Leila's pistol at my waist, digging into
my back. Who would have thought I'd ever feel grateful that Leila once pulled a
gun on me? Oh, Ray, I'm so glad you taught me how to shoot.
Ray! I gasp. He'll be expecting me to isil litis ccning. Perhaps I can simply
dump the money with Jack. He can run while I take Mia home. Oh, this sounds
absurd!
My BlackBerry jumps to life, "Your Love is King" filling the room. Oh no!
W'hal does C hrisiian want? To tw ist the knife in my wounds?
"Was a always the money'.' "
Oh. Chrisli in I i I t i tin i gut 1 ls ui^li
It helps. I send the cad lo oicc mail. I'd ileal w ill) my husband later.
"Mrs. Grey." It's \ helan. " kite money read;. ."
"Thank you." I stand up and the room spins momentarily. I clutch the chair.
"Mrs. Grey, arc you feeling okay?"
hooded sweatshirt down, concealing the butt of the pistol in the back of my jeans,
my shaking limbs.
Sawyer is waitin I lining the public area Shit' Our eyes
meet, and he frowns at me. gauging m reaction. Oh, he's mad. I hold up my in-
dex finger in a with i' in miiiul i i il I ii nswers a call on his
cell phone. Shit! / bei that's Christian. I turn abruptly, almost colliding with
I i I I bolt back into the lit i
"Iis(ue' A hekin oi id utilised he follows me back in.
Sawyer could blow this whole plan. I gaze up al Whelan.
"There's someone out there 1 don't want to see. Someone following me."
Whelan 's eyes widen.
"Do you want mc to call the police?"
"No!" Holy fuck, no. What am I going to do? I glance at my watch. It's
I ! iliecn. Jack will call an i ! 1 ^
at mc in growing desperation ami hew ilderment. ! le must think I'm crazy. You are
crazy. my subconscious snaps.
"I need to make a call. Could you give me some privacy, please?"
"C ertainly," Whelan answers — grateful, I think, to leave the room. When
he's closed the door. I call Mia's ceil phone v ilh trembling lingers.
"Well, if it isn't m> pay check." Jack answers scornfully.
I don't have time for his bullshit. "I have a problem."
"I know. Youi securi I I Ihe ban
What? How the hell does he know?
"You'll have to lose him. I have a car waiting at the back of the bank. Black
SUV, a Dodge. You ha c three minutes to get there." The Dodge!
"It may take longer than three minutes." My heart leaps into my throat once
"'You're bright I i diggi horc. G tat c it out. And dump
your cell phone once you reach the vehicle. Got it, bitch?"
"Yes.""Say it!" he snaps.
He hangs up.
Shii 1 open the door lo find Whelan waiting patiently outside.
"Mr. Whelan. I'll need some help taking the bags to my car. It's parked out-
side, at the back of the bank. Do you have an exit at the rear?"
He frowns.
"We do, yes. For staff."
"As you wish, Mrs. Grey. I'll have two clerks help w ilh the bags and two se-
curity guards to supen isc. 1 1 on could follow me?"
"I have one more favor to ask you."
"By all means, Mrs. Grey ."
Two minutes Inter my entourage and ! are out on the street, heading oxer lo the
Dodge. Its u indows are blacked out, and I can't tell who's at the wheel. But as we
approach, the driver's door swings open, and a woman clad in black with a black
cap pulled low oxer her face climbs graeel'ullx out of the car. Elizabeth: She
moves to the rear of the SUV and opens the trunk. The two young bank clerks car-
rying the money sling [he heaxx bags into die back.
"Mrs. Grey." She has the nerve to smile as if we are off on a friendly jaunt.
"Elizabeth." My greeting is arctic. "Nice to see you outside work."
Mr. Whelan clears this throat.
"Well, it's been an interesting afternoon, Mrs. Grey," he says. And 1 am
forced to observe th \ i I li Mil lit ml in him while
my mind reels. Elizabeth?
What the hell? Why is she mixed up with Jack?
Whelan and hrs k i i h i it I i I v. i me alone with the
head of personnel at SIP who's involved in kidnapping, extortion, and very pos-
sible other felonies. Why?
Elizabeth opens the rear passenger door and ushers me in.
"Your phone, Mrs. Grey?" she asks, watching me warily. I hand it to her, and
"Thai xx HI throw the dogs ol'l'the seen!." she says smugly.
"I think he wants to thank you in person."
She pales and an anxious scow I mars hei olherw isc lovely face.
"Why are you doing this, lilizabcth? ! thought you didn't like Jack."
She glances at me again briefly in the mirror, and I see a fleeting look of pain
in her eyes.
"Ana, we'll gel along just line if you keep our mouth shut.'
"But you can't do this. This is so wrong."
"Quiet," she says, but I sense her unease.
"Docs he have some kind of hold on you?" I ask. Her eyes shoot to mine and
she slams on the brakes, throwing me forward so hard I hit my face against the
headrest of the front seat.
"I said be quiet," she snarls. "And I suggest you put on your seatbclt."
And in that moment 1 know thai lie does. Something so awful that she's pre-
pared to do this for him. I wonder briefh w hat that could be Theft from the com-
pany? Something from her private life? Something sexual? I shudder at the
thought. Christian said that none of Jack's PAs would talk. Perhaps it's the same
story with all of them. That's why he wanted to fuck me, too. Bile rises in my
throat with rc ulsion at the thought.
Elizabeth heads awa from dow ntown Seattle and up into ihe hills to [he east.
Before long we're driving through residential streets. I catch sight of one of the
street signs: South Irving Street. She takes a sharp left onto a deserted street
with a dilapidated elit d i idc 1 'I rge concrete parking
lot flanked by a row of squat, empty brick buildings on the other. Elizabeth pulls
into the parking lot and stops outside the last of the brick units.
M scalp prickles as tear and adrenaline course through my body.
"You don't have to do this." I w hisper hack. Her mouth flattens into a grim
line, and she climbs out of the car.
This is for Mia. This is /or Mia. ! quickU pra> PU „c h I her he okay, please
"Get out." Elizabeth snap--. Nanking the rear passenger door open
Shit. As 1 clamber out, my legs are shaking so hard I wonder if I can stand.
The cool late-afternoon breeze carries the scent of the coming fall and the chalky,
dust} smell of derelict buildings.
"Well, lookee here." Jack emerges from a small, boarded-up doorway on the
left of the building. His hair is short. He's removed his earrings and he's wearing
a suit. A suit? He ambles toward me, oozing arrogance and hate. My heart rate
spikes.
"Where's Mia?" I stammer, my mouth so dr I can hardh form the words.
"First things first, bitch," Jack sneers, coming to a halt in front of mc. I can
practically taste his contempt. "The money.'"
t i 1 i i c 1 tt ih in 1 In It i hell of a lot of cash
here," she says in awe, zipping and unzipping each bag.
"And her cell?"
"In the trash."
"Ciood." Jack snarls, and I'rom nowhere iie lashes out. backhanding me liard
across the face. The ferocious, unprovoked blow knocks me to the ground, and
my head bounces with a sickening thud off the concrete. Pain explodes in my
head, my eyes fill with tears, and my vision blurs as the shock of the impact res-
onates, unleashing agonv thai pulses through my skull.
1 scream a silent cry of suffering and shocked terror. Oh no — Little Blip. Jack
follows through with a swift, vicious kick to my ribs, and my breath is blasted
from my li ! I runching m> eye uJitl 1 try to fight
the nausea and pain, to fight for a precious breath. Little Blip, Little Blip, oh my
Little Blip—
"That's for SIP, you fucking bitch!" Jack screams.
I pull my legs up. huddling into a ball and anticipating the next blow. No. No.
No.
"Jack!" Elizabeth screeches. "Not here. Not in broad daylight for fuck's
"The bitch deserves it!" he gloals to Elizabeth. And it gives me one precious
second to reach around and pull the gun from the waist hand of my jeans. Shakily,
I aim at him, squccz th i n ii rh b let hi I) 1 1 | ust above the knee,
and he collapses in I i r it 11 i hitching! s thigh is Ins tin
gers redden w ith his blood.
"Fuck!" Jack bellow s. ! turn to lace Elizabeth, and she's gaping at me in hor-
ror and raising her hands above her head. She blurs . . . darkness closes in. Shit . . .
She's at the end of a tunnel. Darkness consuming her. Consuming me. From far
running . . . footsteps. The gun drops from my hand.
"Ana!" Christian's voice . . . Christian's voice . . . Christian's agonized voice.
Mia . . . save Mia.
"ANA!"
Darkness . . . peace.
Chapter Twenty-Three
There is only pain. My head, my chest . . . burning pain. My side, my arm. Pain.
Pain and hushed uords in he gloom. I c rhough 1 lr I cannot open my
eyes. The whispered word* become clearer ...a beacon in the darkness.
"Her ribs are bruised, Mr. Grey, and she has a hairline fracture to her skull,
bin her ilal signs are stable and strong."
"A hv is she still unconscious?"
"Mrs. Grey has had a major eoniusion lo her head. Bui her brain aeliviiy is
normal, and she h i 111 I lis leady. Just give
her some time."
"And the baby?" The words are anguished, breathless.
"The baby's fine, Mr. Grey."
"Oh. thank God." The words are a litany . . . a prayer. "Oh. I hank God."
Oh my. He's worried about the baby ... the baby? . . . Little Blip. Of course.
My Little Blip. I try in vain to move my hand to my belly. Nothing moves, noth-
ing responds.
"And the baby ? . . . Oh. thank God. "
Little Blip is safe.
"And the baby? . . . Oh, thank God. "
I le cares about the baby.
"And the baby? . . . Oh. thank God. "
He wants the baby. Oh thank God. I relax, and unconsciousness claims me
once more, stealing me im.iv from the pain.
and mouth arc rcsoluleh shut, unv illing to open. Iea ing me blind and mute and
aching. As I surface from the fog. consciousness hovers, a seductive siren just out
of reach. Sounds become voices.
"I'm not leaving her."
Christian! He's here ... I will myself to wake — his voice is strained, an ag-
"Christian, you should sleep."
"No, Dad. I want to be here vv lien she vv akes up
"I'll sit with her. It's the least I can do after she saved my daughter."
Mia!
"How's Mia?"
"She's groggy . . . seared and angry. It'll be a few hours before the Rohypnol
is completely out of her system."
"I know. I'm feeling sc en kinds of foolish lot relenting on her security. You
warned me, but Mia is so stubborn. If it wasn't for Ana here ..."
"We all thought Hyde was out of the picture. And my crazy, stupid
wife — Why didn't she tell me?" Christian's voice is full of anguish.
"Christian, calm down. Ana's
a remarkable young woman. Siie was incred-
ibly brave."
"Brave and headstrong and stubborn and stupid." His voice cracks.
"Hey," Carrick murmurs, "don't be so hard on her, or yourself, son . . . I'd
better get back to your mom. It's after three in the morning, Christian. You really
should In lo .sleep."
The fog closes in.
The fog lil'is bin I hac no sense of time.
"If you don't take her across your knee, I sure as hell will. What the hell was
she thinking?"
"Trust me, Ray, I just might do that."
Dad! He 's here. I fight the fog . . . fight ... But 1 spiral down once more into
oblivion. No...
"Detective, as you can see, my wife is no state to answer any of your questions."
"She's a headstrong young woman, Mr. Grey."
"I wish she'd killed the fucker."
"That would have meam more papers oi l. lor me. Mr. < ire . . ."
of a bitch. He has a sen is grud i us rand i
"What do you mean you weren't talking?" It's Grace. She sounds angry. I try to
move my head, but I'm met with a resounding, listless silence from my body.
"What did you do?"
"Mom—"
"Christian! What did you do?"
"I was so angry." It's almost a sob . . . No.
"Hey . . ."
The world dips and blurs and I'm gone.
I hear soft garbled voices.
"You told me you'd cut all lies." Grace is talking. Her voice is quiet,
admonishing.
'"1 know " Christian sounds resigned. "But scciiij: her I'inalh put il all in per-
spective for me. You know . . . with the child. For the first time I felt . . . What we
"What she did darling . . . Children will do that to you. Make you look at the
world in a different light."
"She finally got the message . . . and so did I ... I hurt Ana," he w hispcrs.
"We always hurt the ones we love, darling. You'll have to tell her you're
"She said she was leaving me."
No. No. No!
"Did you believe her?"
"At first, yes."
"Darling, you always believe the worst of everyone, including yourself. You
always have. Ana loves you very much, and it's obvious you love her."
"She was mad at me."
truly mad at someone you really love."
"1 thought about it, and she's shown me over and over how much she loves
me . . . to the point of putting her own life in danger."
"Oh, Mom, why won't she wake up?" His voice cracks. "I nearly lost her."
Christian! There are muffled sobs. No . . .
Oh . . . the darkness closes in. No —
"It's taken twenty-four years for you to let me hold you like this ..."
"I know, Mom . . . I'm glad we talked."
"Me too, darling. I'm always here. 1 can't believe I'm going to be a
grandmother."
Grandma!
S'cl ohlivimi beckon*,
Hmm. His stubble mo lib scrapes the back ot'm hand as he squeezes my lingers.
"Oh, baby, please come back to me. I'm sorry. Sorry for everything. Just
wake up. I miss you. I love you . . ."
/ try. I try. I want to see him. But my body disobeys me, and I fall asleep once
I have a pressing need to pee. I open my eyes. I'm in the clean, sterile environ-
and my chest ache, but more than that. m bladder is bursting. I need to pee. I test
my elbow. I shut m eyes quickb . Turning m head I'm pleased that it responds
ing on my bed with his head on his folded arms. I reach out, grateful once more
lhal my body responds, and run m lingers through his sofi hair.
He startles i\ il i ing his h uddenl in hat falls weakly hick
"Hi," I croak.
"Oh, Ana." His voice is choked and relieved. He grasps my hand, squeezing
it l ;1 l! in 1 hoi ling t i ] gait 1 rot A lubbled he 1
"I need to use the bathroom," I whisper.
I I it it me I ii ii it i
I struggle to sit up.
"Ana, stay still. I'll call a nurse." He quickb. stands, alarmed, and reaches for
a buzzer on the bedside.
"Please," 1 whisper. Why do I ache everywhere? "1 need to get up." Jeez, I
feel so weak.
"Will you do as you're told for once?" he snaps, exasperated.
"I really need to pee," I rasp. My throat and mouth arc so dry.
A nurse bustles into the room. She must be in her fillies, though her hair is jet
black. She wears overlarge pearl earrings.
"Mrs. Grey welcome back. I'll let Dr. Bartley know you're awake." She
makes her way to my bedside. "My name is Nora. Do you know where you are?"
"Yes. Hospital. I need to pee."
What? Oh this is gross. I glance aniousl at Christian then hack to the nurse.
"Please. I want to get up."
"Mrs. Grey."
"Please."
"Ana," Christian warns. I struggle to sit up once more.
some privacy." She looks pointed!) at ( hrislian. dismissing him.
"I'm not going anywhere." He glares back at her.
"C hristian, please," I whisper, reaching out and grasping his hand. Briefly he
i i hand then me an exasperated k. "PI I
"Fine!" he snaps and runs his hand through his hair. "" i on have two minutes,"
he hisses at the nurse, and he leans down and kisses m forehead before turning
out of bed. I'm dressed in a thin hospital gown. I don't remember being stripped
"Mr. Grey, I can manage." Nurse Nora scolds him.
He gives her a hostile glare. "Dammit, she's my wife. I'll take her." He sa
through gritted teeth as he moves the IV stand out of his way.
"Mr. Grey!" she protests.
He ignores her. Ivans- down, and gently lifts me oftl'lhc bed. I wrap my arms
around his neck, my body complaining. Jeez, I ache everywhere. He carries mc to
ifte en suile baiftroom w Idle Nurse Nora follow s us. pusfting the IV stand.
"Mrs. Grey, you're loo light." lie mutters disappro ingly as he sets me gently
on my feet. I sway. My legs feel like Jell-O. Christian flips the light switch, and
I'm momenlaril} blinded h the lluorescenl lamp that pings and iliekers to lilt.
"Sit before you fall," he snaps, still holding me.
Tentativ ely. I sit down on the toilet.
"Go." I try to wave him out.
"No. Just pee, Ana."
Could this be am more embarrassing? "I can't, not with you here."
"You might fall."
"Mr. Grey!"
We both ignore the nurse.
"Please," I beg.
He raises his hands in defeat. "I '11 stand outside, door open." He takes a
couple of paces back until he's standing just outside the door with the angry
"Turn around, please," I ask. Why do I feel so ridiculously shy with this
man? He rolls his eyes but complies. And when his back is turned ... I let go, and
savor the relief.
hungry. Jeez, really hungry. I finish up, thankful that I don't have to get up to
"I'm done," I call, drying my hands on the towel.
I have missed these irm lie pan i in i i ft i
"Oh, I've missed you, Mrs. Grey," he whispers, and w ilh Nurse Nora fussing
behind him, he lays me back on the bed and releases me — reluctantly, I think.
"If you've quite finished, Mr. Grey, I'd like to check over Mrs. Grey now."
Nurse Nora is mad.
I le stands back. "She's all yours," he says in a more measured tone.
She huffs at him then turns her attent
ion back to me.
Exasperating isn 't he?
"How do you fed?" -.Ik- asks me her wucc laced w ill) s mpadn and a trace of
irritation, which I suspect is for Christian's benefit.
"Sore anil thirsty. Very thirsty." I whisper.
"I'll fetch you some water once I've checked your Hals .mil Dr. Hartley has
examined you."
She reaches for a blood pressure cuff and wraps it around my upper arm. I
glance anxiously up at Christian. He looks dreadful — haunted, even — as if he
hasn't slept for days. His hair is a mess, he hasn't shaved for a long time, and his
shirt i I ; dh wrinkl 1. I frown
"How are you feeling?" Ignoring the nurse, he sits down on the bed out of
"Confused. Achy. Hungry."
"Hungry'.'" He blinks in surprise.
I nod.
"What do you want to eat?"
"Anything. Soup."
"Mr. Grey, you'll net the i clo ppi Ik i i M (ire can n
He gazes al her impassix ely for a moment then lakes his BlaekBerry o Lit ok
his pants pocket and presses a number.
"Ana wants chicken soup . . . Good . . . Thank you." He hangs up.
I glance at Nora whose eyes narrow at Christian.
"Taylor'.'" I ask quickly.
"Your blood pressure is normal, Mrs. Grey. I'll fetch the doctor." She re-
diating disapproval.
"I think you made Nurse Nora mad."
"I have that effect on women." He smirks.
I laugh, then stop suddenly as pain radiates through my chest. "Yes, you do."
"Oh, Ana, I love to hear you laugh."
I . I II III I ] I l Us 1 ! I I I II II I tl Ll
as she pours out a glass and hands it to mc.
"Yes, ma'am," I mutter and take a welcome sip of cool water. Oh my. It
tastes perfect. 1 take another, and Christian watches me intently.
"Mia?" I ask.
""She's sale. Thanks to you."
"They did have her?"
"Yes."
All the madness was for a reason. Relief spirals through my body. Thank
God. thank God. thank God she S okay. I frown.
"How did they get her?"
"klizabelh Morgan." lie says simply.
"No!"
He nods. "She picked her up at Mia's gym."
I frown, still not understanding.
"Ana, I'll 1111 you in on the details later. Mia is tine, till things eonsidered.
She \ as drugged. She's groggy now and shaken up, but by some miracle she
wasn'1 harmed.'" Christian's jaw clenches. "What you did" —he runs his hand
through his hair "was incredibly brae, e and incredibh stupid. You could have
been killed." His eye- blaze a bleak, chilling gray, ami I know lie's restraining his
"Vi>u could hac told me!" he says ehenientl lisling ills hands in his kip.
"1 Ie said he'd kill her if I told anyone. I couldn't take that risk."
Christian closes I eyi di * s hed in his face.
"I have died a thousand deaths since Thursday."
Thursday?
"What day is it?"
"It's almost Saturday," he says, checking his watch. "You've been uncon-
scious for over twenty-four hours."
Oh.
"And Jack and Elizabeth?"
"In police custody. Although Hyde is here under guard. They had to remove
the bullet you left in him." Christian sas bitterly. "I don't know where in this
hospilal he is. fortunalely. or I 'd probably kilt hint myself." I lis face darkens.
Oh shit. Jack is here?
"That's for SIP you fucking bitch!" I pale. My empty stomach convulses,
tears prick my eyes, and a deep shudder runs through me.
Hc Chitsli i 1 i i t I 1 i 1 1 I i
glass from my hand, he tenderly folds me into his arms. "You're safe now," he
murmurs against my hair, his voice hoarse.
"C hristian, I'm so sorry." My tears start to fall.
""Hush." lie strokes m hair, and I weep into his neck.
"What I said. I was never going to leave you."
"Hush, baby, I know."
'"You do?" His admission halls my tears.
"I worked it out. Eventually. Honestly, Ana, what were you thinking!" His
"You took me by surprise," 1 mutter into his shirt collar. "When we spoke at
flic bank. Thinking 1 was lcaing you. 1 thought you knew me better. I've said to
you over and over I would never leave."
""But after the appalling way I'e behaved — " His voice is barely audible, and
his anii- lighten around me. "1 though! for a short time that I'd lost ou."
danger."
"How did you work it out?" I ask quickly to distract him from his line of
thought.
He tucks my hair behind my ear. "I'd just touched down in Seattle when the
bank called. Last I'd heard, you were ill and going home."
"So you were in Portland when Sawyer called you from the car?"
"We were just about to take off. I was worried about you," he says softly.
lie frowns. "Of course I was." He skirts his thumb ocr my bottom lip. "I
spend my life worrying about you. You know that."
Oh, Christian!
"Jack called me at the office," I murmur. "He gave me two hours to get the
money." I shrug. "I had to leave, and it just seemed the best excuse."
Christian's mouth presses inlo a hard line. "And you gave Sawyer the slip.
He's mad at you, as well."
"As well?"
"As well as me."
I tentatively touch his face, running m> fingers o ei his stubble. He closes his
eves, leaning into my fingers.
"Don't be mad at me. Please," I whisper.
"I am so mad at you. What you did was monumentally stupid. Bordering on
"I told you, 1 didn't know w hat else to do."
"You don't seem to have any regard for your personal safety. And it's not
just you now," he adds angrily.
My lip trembles. He's thinking about our Little Blip.
The door opens, startling us both, and a young African-American woman in a
white coat over gray scrubs strides in.
"Good evening, Mrs. Grey. I'm Dr. Bartley."
She starts to examine me thoroughly. -.Inning a lighl in m eyes, making me
touch her lingers, then m nose \ hi lc closing first one e_ e and then the other, and
checking all my reflexes. But her voice is soft and her touch gentle; she has a
of the room and makes some calls while the two of them tend to me. It's hard to
concentrate on Dr. Bartley, Nurse Nora, and Christian at the same time, but I hear
him call his father, my mother, and Kate to say I'm awake. Finally, he leaves a
Ray. Oh shir ... A vague memory of his voice comes back to me. He was
Dr. Bartley check-. m> ribs. Iter lingers probing gently but firmly.
I scowl. Lucky'/ Not the word I would hac chosen. Christian glowers at her.
"I'll prescribe some painkillers. You'll need them for this and for the head-
ache you must have. But all's looking as it should, Mrs. Grey. I suggest you get
some sleep. Depending on how ou loci in the morning, we may let you go home.
My colleague Dr. Singh will be attending you then."
"Thank you."