arms lighten around me. squeezing me.
"When I think of what might have happened . . ." His voice is barely a whis-
per. Broken, raw.
"I'm okay."
"Oh, Ana." It's almost a sob.
"I'm okay. We're all okay. A bit shaken. But Gail is fine. Ryan is fine. And
Jack is gone."
He shakes his head. "No thanks to you," he mutters.
What] 1 lean back, and glare al ham " What do you mean?"
"I don't want to i 10 iglil now uia
I blink. Well, maybe / do, but I decide against it. At least he's talking to inc. I
nestle into him once more. His fingers move to my hair and start playing with it.
"I want to punish you," he whispers. "Really beat the shit out of you," he
My heart leaps into my mouth, h'nck. '1 know ! whisper as my scalp
"Maybe I will."
"I hope not."
He hugs me tighter. "Ana, Ana, Ana. You'd try the patience of a saint."
"I could accuse sou of mam things. Mr. Grey, but being a saint isn't one of
Finally I am blessed u ill) his reluctant chuckle. "Fan' point well made as ever,
Mrs. Grey." He kisses my forehead and shifts.
"Back to bed. You had a late night, too." He moves quickly, picking me up
and depositing me back on the bed.
"Lie down with me?"
"No. I have things to do." He reaches down and collects the glass. "Go back
to sleep. I'll wake you in a couple of hours."
"I'll go back to sleep, then."
"Good." He pulls the duvet over me and kisses my forehead once more.
"Sleep."
And because I'm so groggy from the night before, relieved that he's back,
and emotionally fatigued by our early-morning encounter, I do exactly as I'm
told. As I drift off. I 11 ' hougl Mil 1 111 n taste in my mouth,
to know why he h is! [ 1 1 mechanism tnd leapt on me to
have his wicked way.
"There's some orange juice for you here," Christian says, and my eyes flutter
open again. I have had the most restful two hours of sleep I can remember, and I
wake refreshed, my head no longer throbbing. The orange juice is a welcome
sight — as is my husband. He's in his sweats. And I'm momentarily zapped back
lo the Heathman Hotel and the first time I ever woke up with him. His gray tank
lop is damp wilh his sweal. hither he's been working on! in ihe basemenl gym or
he's been for a run, but he shouldn't look this good after a workout.
"I'm going lo lake a shower." lie murmurs ami disappears lo the bathroom. I
frown. He's still distant. He's either distracted by all that's happened, or still mad,
1 i 1 i ii ehlbi 1 i il down too quickly.
It's delicious, ice cold, and it makes my mouth a much better place. I clamber out
of bed, anxious to close the distance real and metaphysical— between my hus-
band and me. I glance quickly at the alarm. It's eight o'clock. I strip off Christi-
an's T-shirt and follow him into the bathroom. He's in the shower, washing his
hair, and I don't hesitate. I slip in behind him. .mil he stiffens the moment I wrap
my arms around him — my front to his wet. muscular back. I ignore his reaction,
holding him tightly, and press my cheek flat against him, closing my eyes. After a
moment, he shifts so we are both under the cascade of hot water and carries on
all the times he's fucked me and all the times he's made love to me in here. I
frown He's never been litis quid, ruining m head. I start to trail kisses across
his back. His body stiffens again.
"Don't," he warns.
I release him, immediately. He '.s saying no? My mind goes into free fall— has
litis c or happened before? M subconscious -.hakes her head, her lips pursed. She
glares at me over her half-moon glasses, wearing her you've-really-fuckcd-up-
this-time look. I feel like I e b I ipped h ird Rejected nd a lifetime of in-
security spawns the ugly ihoughl In (hui / mini me anymore. I gasp as the pain
scars through mc. Christian turns, and I'm relieved to see he's not completely ob-
livious to my charms. Grasping my chin, he tilts my head back, and I find myself
gazing into his wary, beautiful eyes.
"I'm still fucking mad at you," he says, his voice quiet and serious. Shit!
Leaning down, he n i.hi i i I M nsi line, closing hi eves I reach up and
""Don'l be mud ;il me. please. 1 iliink you're o erreacling." I w hispcr.
i le straightens, blanching. M liand falls free 10 m side.
"0 erreacling?" he snarls. "Some rucking lunatic gets into my apartment to
kidnap my wife, and you think I'm overreacting!" The restrained menace in his
oice is frightening, and his eyes blaze as he stares at me as if I'm the fucking
lunatic.
"No . . . um, that's not what I was referring to. I thought this was about me
staying out."
He closes his eyes once more as if in pain and shakes his head.
"Chrisiian. i wasn't here." i try lo appease and reassure him.
"I know," he whispers opening ills eyes. ""And all because you ean'l follow a
simple, fucking request." His tone is bitter and it's my turn to blanch. "I don't
want to discuss this now, in the shower. I am still fucking mad at you, Anastasia.
You're making me , < li in n ( i Igmcnt." He turns and prompth leaves the
shower, grabbing a lowel on the wax and slalking oui of the bathroom, leaving me
bereft and chilled under the hot water.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
Then the significance of what he's just said dawns on me. Kidnap? Fuck.
Jack wanted to kidnap me? I recall the duct tape and not wanting to think too
riedly I wash myself, then shampoo and rinse my hair. I want to know. I need to
do the same, throw it n my I rite plun i 1 hi nd I'm con
my hair, then braid it and , ind ii into a bun l ining diamond studs into my ears, I
I'm pale. Jeez, I'm always pale. I take a deep steadying breath. I need to face the
consequences of m> ish deei I in in ii nil my friend. I sigh,
knowing thai Chrisiian won't see il thai wa.
Christian is nowhere to be seen in the great room. Mrs. Jones is busying her-
self in the kitchen.
"Good morning, Ana," she says sweetly.
"Morning."" i smile broadh al her. I am Ana again!
"Tea?"
"Please."
"Anything lo em?"
"Please. I'd like an omelet this morning."
"With mushrooms and spinach'.'"
"And cheese."
"Coming up."
"Where's Christian?"
"Mr. Grey's in his study."
"lias he had breakfast?" 1 glance ai die iwo places sel on die breakfast bar.
"No, ma'am."
"Thanks."
C hrislian is on the phone, dressed in a white shirt with no tic, looking like
every part the iclan (TO. II i 1 - t irancc in be Pel haps he's not
going into the office after all. He glances up when I appear in the doorway but
shakes his head at me, indicating that I am not welcome. Shit ... I turn and
wander dejectedly back to the breakfast bar. fa lor appears. snappily dressed in a
somber suit, looking like he's had eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.
"Morning, Taylor," I murmur, trying to gauge his mood and see if he'll offer
me any visual cues about w hat has been going on.
"Good morning. Mrs. (drey." he replies, and 1 hear the sympathy in those four
words. I smile compassionately back at him, knowing he had to endure an angry,
frustrated Christian returning to Seattle way ahead of schedule.
"How was the flight?" I dare to ask.
"Long, Mrs. Grey." His brevity speaks volumes. "May 1 ask how you are?"
He nods. "If you'll excuse me." He heads toward Christian's study. Hmm.
Ta lot's allowed in. but not me.
"Here you go." Mrs. Jones places my breakfast in front of me. My appetite
has vanished, but I eat anyway, not wishing to offend her.
By the time I've finished what I can of my breakfast, Christian has still not
emerged from Ins study. Is he avoiding me?
"Thanks. Mrs. Jones." I murmur, sliding off the bar stool and making my way
to the bathroom to clean my teeth. As I brush them I 'm reminded of Christian's
sulk over the wedding on s. 1 1c holed up in his siud then. loo. Is that what this
is'.' Him sulking? I shudder as I recall his subsequent nightmare. Will that happen
again? Wc really need to talk. I need to know about Jack and about the increased
security for the Greys — all the details that have been kept from me, but not from
Kate. Obviously Elliot talks to her.
I glance at my watch. It's eight fifty — I'm late for work. I finish brushing my
i Hi i pl i link In I i ii n !ii i 'i i 1 1 1 ii 1 I iii I
the great room. I am relieved to see Christian there, eating his breakfast.
"You're going?" he says v. lien lie sees me.
"To work? Yes, of course." Bravely, I walk toward him and rest my hands on
the edge of the breakfast bar. I le gazes at me blankly.
"Christian, we've hardly been back a week. I have to go to work."
'"But I 1 i i I ii 1 in lis I mes walks
quietly out of the room. Discreet, Gail, discreet.
"I know wc ln i i i i i It li u e calmed down,
wc can do it this evening."
His mouth pops open with dismay. "Calmed down?" His voice is eerily soft.
I flush. "You know what I mean."
"I don't want a fight. 1 was coining loaskyou ill could take my car."
He blinks. He was obviously expecling a fight. "Prescoll will accompany
1 remember my mom's "words of wisdom" talk the day before my wedding.
Ana. hone) uh/ m ii c i Iil saint with your
kids when you hove them. Well, ai least he's letting me go to work.
"Okay," I mutter. And because I don't want to leave him like this with so
much unresolved and so much tension between us, I step tentatively toward him.
1 Ic stiffens, his eyes w idening. and for a moment he looks so ulnerablc it pulls a!
some deep, dark place in my heart. Oh, Christian, I'm so sorry. I kiss him
chaslclv on the side of his mouth I le closes his eyes as if relishing mv touch.
"Don't hate me," I whisper.
He grabs my hand. "I don't hate you."
"You haven't kissed me," 1 whisper.
He eyes me suspiciously. "1 know," he mutters.
I'm desperate to ask him why, but I'm not sure I want to know the answer.
Abruptly he stands and grabs my face between his hands, and in a flash his lips
arc hard on mine. I gasp with surprise, inadvertently granting his tongue access.
He takes full advantage, im ading 1m mouth, claiming me. and just as I'm begin-
n g U n pond Ik i. i- - ic hi breall g quickening.
"Taylor will take you and Prcscott to SIP," he says, his eyes flaring with
need. "Taylor!" he cabs. ! Hush. Iry ing lo reco er some composure.
""Sir." Taylor is standing in the doorway .
"Tell Prcscott Mrs. drey is going lo work. Can yon drive them, please?"
"Certainly." Turning on Ills heel, fa;, lor disappears.
"If you could try to stay out of trouble today, I would appreciate it," Christian
"I'll see what I can do." I smile sweetly. A reluctant half smile tugs at Chris-
"IT1 see you later, then," he says coolly.
Prcscott and 1 take the rieeele;i n to the I cment garage in ordcr
to avoid the media outside. Jack's arrest and the fact he was apprehended in out-
apartment are now public knowledge. As I settle into the Audi, I wonder if there
will be more paparazzi waiting at SIP like the day our engagement was
announced.
We drive a while in silence until 1 remember to call first Ray and then my
short, and I hang up just as we arrive oulsi k SIP 1 ei thei i u d
crowd of reporters and photographers l ing in wail, ["hey turn as one. looking ex-
pectantly at the Audi.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Mrs. Grey?" Taylor asks. Part of me just
wants to go home, but that means spending the day with Mr. Burning Rage. I
hope that with a little time, he will gain some perspective. Jack is in police cus-
tody, so Fifty should be happy, but he's not. Part of me understands why; too
much of this is out of his control including inc. but 1 drat"; have lime to think
about this now.
"Take me around lo lite delbcn entrance, please. 1 a lor."
It's one o'clock and I've managed to immerse myself in work all morning.
There's a knock and Elizabeth pops her head around the door.
"Can I have a moment?" -.he asks brighth
"Sure," I mutter, surprised at her unscheduled visit.
She enters and sits down, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. "I
just wanted to check you're okay. Roach asked me to pay you a visit," she adds
hurriedly as her face reddens. "I mean with all that went on last night."
lack Hyde's arrest is all over the newspapers, but no one seems to have made
the connection yet with the fire at GEH.
"I'm fine," I answer, trying not to think too deeply about how I feel. Jack
wanted to harm mc. Well, that's not news. He's tried before. It's Christian I'm
more concerned about.
I glatu | u i m mai lit 1 still t hin li i htm I don't know if
I were to send him an e-mail, whether I'd just be provoking Mr. Burning Rage
"Good," Elizabeth answers, and her smile actually touches her eyes for a
"Will do."
"Urn . . . thanks."
Hemisphere today. Why did Roach send her here? Perhaps he's worried, given
I'm his boss's vvii I I 1 c i t t d Ills an tit ! 1 i 1 t t i
the hope that there might be a message from Christian. As I do, my work e-mail
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Statement
Date: August 26, 2011 13:04
To: Anastasia Grey
Detective Clark will be visiting your office today at 3 pm to take your statement.
I have insisted that he should come to you, as I don't want you going to the police
Christian Grey
CEO. Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
1 gaze at his c-niail foi 1 full I > minuic 11 ing to thinl of a light and willy
response to lift his mood. I draw a complete blank, and opt for brevitv instead.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Statement
Commissioning Editor, SIP
1 stare at the screen i'01 liei 1 ^ , 1 inxiou lor his response but
there's mulling. Christian is not in the mood to play today.
I sit back. Can I I 1 It 1 I 1 frantic back in the
early hours of litis morning. Then a thought occurs to me He w as in his lux when
I woke this momni- h in ' 1 1 I 1 10m New York? He
normall} leaves functions between ten and
eleven. Last night at that hour, I was
still at large with Kate.
Did Christian come home because I was out or because of the Jack incident?
If he left because I was out having a good time, he would have had no idea about
Jack, about the police, nothing — until he landed in Seattle. It's suddenly ery im-
portant to me to find out. If Christian came back merely because I was out, then
he was overreacting. M subconscious sucks her leelh. wearing her harpy face.
Okay, I'm glad he's back, so maybe it's irrelevant. But still — Christian must have
had one hell of a shock when he landed. No wonder he's so confused today. His
earlier words come back lo me. "/ urn still fucking mad at you, Anastusia. You 're
i judgment
I have to know did he le ick I niseofi I Igalc or because of the
fucking lunatic?
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Your Flight
Date: August 26, 2011 13:24
To: Christian Grey
What time did you decide to come back to Seattle yesterday?
Anastasia Grey
Commissioning Editor, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your flight
Date: August 26, 2011 13:26
Why?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Date: August 26, 2011 13:29
To: Christian Grey
Call it curiosity.
Anastasia Grey
' , mmissii ,1 11 1 liti 1 [i
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your flight
Date: August 26, 2011 13:32
To: Anastasia Grey
Curiosity killed the cat.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Huh?
Date: August 26, 2011 13:35
To: Christian Grey
1 1 ii 1 tl I" 1 I 11 [ 1 1 t< ' me f l 1 I'll t
You know where I am going with this, don't you?
Did you decide to return because I (vent out for a drink with m trie] id after you
asked me not to, or did you return because a madman was in your apartment?
Anastasia Grey
' 1 nmi sion ng J itoi SI]
I stare at my screen. There's no response. I glance at the clock on my cor
puter. One forty-five and still no response.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Here's the thing . . .
Date: August 26, 2011 13:56
To: Christian Grey
I will take your silence as an admission that you did indeed return to Seattle lie-
cause I CHANGED MY MIND. I am an adult female and went for a drink with my
friend. I did not understand the security ramifications of CHANGING MY MIND
because YOU NEVER TELL ME ANYTHING. I found out from Kate that security
has, in fact, been stepped up for all the Greys, not just us. I think you generally
rrcactwh m f concern ind I und [ by. but >u r< lib the
boy crying wolf.
I never have a clue 1 1 hi hat i . I litem ere] methin that i 1 1
ceived as a concern t t t tl 1 t h
Kati nd I would b if 1 1 1 in 1 in that I 1! n at th ipartment
Had I been FULLY INFORMED of the situation, I would have taken a different
course of action.
I understand your concerns are something to do with material that was on Jack's
best friend knows more about what's going on with you than I do? And I am your
WIFE. So are you going to tell me? Or will you continue to treat me like a child,
u ii a t 3 1 th 1 1 it 1 ne like one?
You are not the only one who is fucking pissed. Okay?
Commissioning Editor, SIP
I hit send. There—stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Grey. I take a deep
breath. I have worked myself up into quite a rage. Here was I feeling sorts and
guilty for behaving badly. Well, no longer.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Here's the thing . . .
Date^August 26, 2011 13:59
As ever, Mis Cm you 11 ht and dial] nging in e-mail.
Perhaps we can discuss this when you get home to OUR apartment.
Vuii should w atch your language. I am still fucking pissed, too.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Watch my language! I scowl at my computer, realizing this is getting mc
nowhere. I don't respond, but pick up a manuscript recently recehed from a
promising new author and begin to read.
My meeting with Detective Clark is uneventful. He is less growly than the night
before, maybe because he's managed sonic sleep. Or maybe lie just prefers work-
ing during die da .
"Thank you for your statement, Mrs. Grey."
"You're welcome, detective. Is Hyde in police custody yet?"
"Yes ma'am. He was released from hospital earlier this morning. With what
he's charged with, he should be with us for a while." He smiles, his dark eyes
crinkling in the corner.
"Good. This has been an anxious time for my husband and mc."
"I spoke at length w illi Mr. Grey this morning. Ile'ser relieed. Interesting
man, your husband."
You have no idea.
dismissed.
"If you dunk ol iiiylhing. ,011 can call mc. Here's my card." He wrestles a
"Thank you, delecli c. I'll do that."
"Good day to you, Mrs. Grey."
"Good day."
As he leaves, I wonder exactly \hai Ihdc htn. been charged with. No doubt
Christian won't tell me. I purse my lips.
ri I i silei t l i i 1 1 1 i i i i i i It II it his side ind
my heart grows heavier and heavier as we head back. I know Christian and I arc
il i uh hi. and 1 don'l kn I h ihc energy.
As I ride in the ek his inlensio . | le gazes dim n. « ide unreadable eyes
burning into mine. I swallow.
"i undersland yon hae issues. Mrs. Grey." he says silkily, and he pulls
something from die back pocket of his jeans. I can't tear my gaze from his, but
hear him unfold a piece of paper. I le holds it up. and glancing briefly in its direc-
tion, I recognize my e-mail. My gaze returns to his, as his eyes blaze bright \ ilh
"Yes, I have issues," I whisper, feeling breathless. I need distance if we're
going to discuss this But before I 1 i n and runs his nose
along mine. My eyes flutter to a close as I welcome his unexpected, gentle touch.
"So do I," he whispers against my skin, and I open my eyes at his words. He
straightens and gazes intently at me once more.
"1 think I'm familiar with your issues, Christian." My voice is wry, and he
narrows his eyes, s u j i ng t lie ainnsei Hi ] th c momentarily. Are
i ill Mi ilionar, si I must pi sic illy distance my-
II i i I li in I 1 i t i in those hot jeans.
He frowns as I move away.
"Why did you fly back from New York'.'" I whisper. Let's get litis over and
"Because I went out with Kate?"
"Because you went back on your word, and you defied me, putting yourself
"Went back on my word? Is that how you see it?" I gasp, ignoring the rest of
Holy crap. Talk about overreaction! I start to roll my eyes but stop when he
scowls at me. "Christian, I changed my mind," I explain slowly, patiently as if
he's a child. "I'm a woman. V. e're renew ned [or it. Thai's w hat we
do."
He blinks at me as i f he doesn't comprehend this.
"If 1 had thought for one minute that you would cancel our business trip . . ."
Words fail me. I realize 1 don't know what to say. I am momentarily catapulted
back to the argument over our vows. / never promised to obey you. Christian. But
I hold my tongue, because deep now n I'm glad he came back. In spite of his fury,
I'm glad he's here in one piece, angry and smoldering in front of me.
"You changed your mind?" He can't hide his contemptuous disbelief.
"Yes."
"And you didn't think to call me?" 1 Ie glares al me. incredulous, before con-
tinuing. "What's more, you left the security detail short here and put Ryan at
Oh. I hadn't thought about that.
"I should have called, but I didn't want to worry you. If I had, I'm sure you
would have forbidden me to go and I've missed Kate. I wanted to see her.
Besides, it kept me out of the way when Jack was here. Ryan shouldn't have let
him in " fin-. i> so confusing if Ryan hadn't. Jack w on Id si ill be at large.
Christian's eyes gl i il< i i in fa < _ ning as if in pain. Oh,
no. He shakes his Ik i nd bcl I hi il he I lie me in his arms, pulling
me hard against him.
"Oil Ana." he whispers as he tightens his hold on me so that I can barely
breathe. "If something w ere to happen to you " I lis oicc is bareh a w hisper.
"But it could have. I've died a thousand deaths today thinking about what
might have happened. I was so mad, Ana. Mad at you. Mad at myself. Mad at
everyone. I can't rcn mber being this angn except — " He stops again.
"Except?" I prompt.
"Once in your old ipa i i Vhcn Leila is th^tc
Oh. I don't want to think about that.
"You were so cold this morning," I murmur. My voice cracks on the last
word as I remember the hideous feeling of rejection in the shower. His hands
move to the nape of nn neck, loosening their grip on me. and 1 take a deep breath.
He pulls my head back.
"I don't know how to deal w ith this anger. I don'; lliink I want to hurt you,"
he says, his eyes wide and wary. "This morning, I wanted to punish you, badly
and — " He stops, lost for words I think, or too afraid to say them.
"You were worried you'd hurt me?" I finish his sentence for him, not believ-
ing that he'd hurt me for a minute, but relicwed. loo. small vicious part of me
feared it was bee m I i i i it
"I didn't trust myself," he says quietly.
"Christian, I know you'd never hurt me. Not physically, anyway." I clasp his
head between my hands.
"Do you?" he asks, and (here's skepticism in his voice.
"Yes. I knew what you said was an empty, idle threat. I know you're not go-
ing lo heal the shit out of me."
"I wanted to."
"No you didn't. You just thought you did."
"I don't know if that's true," he murmurs.
"Think about it." I urge. w rapping m arms around him once more and nuzz-
ling his chest through the black T-shirt. "About how you felt when I left. You've
told me often enough what that did to you. How it altered your view of the world,
of me. I know what you've given up for me. Think about how you felt about the
cuff marks on our honeymoon."
He stills, and 1 know he's processing this information. 1 lighten my turns
around him, m h in I i 1 feeling Ins I i scles beneath his T-
sltirl. (iradtially. lie relaxes as the tension slowh ebbs away.
Is this what's been worrying him? That he'll hurt mc? Why do 1 have more
He's normally so stn i - o in control bin > i houl th i In - lost. Oh, Fifty, Fifty,
Fifty— I'm sorry. He kisses my hair, I turn my face up to his, and his lips find
mine, searching, taking, giving, begging — for what, I don't know. I just want to
feel his mouth on mine, and 1 return his kiss passionatclx .
"You have such faith in me." he w luspers aflet he breaks away.
"1 do." He strokes my lace wish the back of ins knuckles and the tip of his
ill n 1 isi tin nio my II i r i > > i 1 fill is back from
wherever he's been. It's good to see him. I glance shyly up and smirk.
"Besides," I whisper, "you don't have the paperwork."
His mouth drops open in amused shock, and he clutches me to his chest
"You're right. I don't." He laughs.
We stand in the middle of the great room, locked in our embrace, just holding
each other.
"Come to bed." he w hispers. after hcaen know s how long.
"Christian, we need to talk."
"Later," he urges softly.
"Christian, please. Talk lo me."
He sighs. "About what?"
"You know. You keep me in the dark."
"I want to protect you."
"I'm not a child."
"I am fully aware of that, Mrs. Grey." He runs his hands down my body and
cups my backside Flexing his 1 pi- lie pi >s< his grow ing rection into me.
"Christian!" I scold. "Talk to me."
He sighs once more with exasperation. "What do you want to know?" His
voice is resigned as he releases me. I baulk — / didn 't mean you had to let me go.
faking my hand, lie reaches down io pick up mv e-mail from Ihc floor.
""Lois of things." I mutter, as I let him lead me to the couch.
tian sits beside me, and leaning forw ard. puts his head in his hands.
Oh no. Is this loo hard for him'.' Then he sils up. rakes holii hands through his
hair, and turns to me, at once expectant and reconciled to his fate.
Oh. Well, that was easier than I thought. "Why the additional security for
"Hyde was a threat to them."
"How do you know?"
"From his computer. It held personal details about me and the rest of my fam-
ily. Especially Carrick."
"Carrick? Why him?"
"I don't know yet. Let's go to bed."
"Tell you what?"
"You arc so . . . exasperating."
"So are you." 1 le glares at me.
"You didn't ramp up the security when you first found out there was informa-
tion about your family on the computer. So what happened? Why now?"
(. hrislian narrows his eyes at me.
"I didn't know he was going to attempt to burn down my building, or — " He
stops. "We thought it was an unwelcome obsession, but you know" — he
shrugs — "when you're in the public eye, people are interested. It was random
stuff: news reports on me from when I was at Harvard — my rowing, my career.
Reports on Carrick — following his career, following my mom's career — and to
some extent, Elliot and Mia.
How strange.
"You said or" I prompt.
"Or what?"
"You said, 'attempt to hum dovv n im building, or . . .' like you were going to
sa> something else."
"Are you hungry?"
What'! I frown in him. and m stomach rumbles.
"Did you eat today?" His voice is sterner and his eyes frost.
I'm betrayed by my flush.
"As I thought." His voice is clipped. "You know how I feel about you not
eating. Come," he says. He stands and holds out his hand. "Let me feed you." And
he shifts again . . . this time his oice full of sensual promise.
"Feed me?" 1 whisper a, even thing sou
th of my navel liquefies. Hell. This is
such a typically mercurial diversion from what we've been discussing. Is that it'.'
Is that all I'm getting out of him for now? Leading me over to the kitchen, Christi-
an grabs a bar -.tool and hefts it around to the other side of the island.
"Sit," he says.
'"Where's Mrs. Jones?" ! ask. noticing her absence fur the first time as I perch
on the stool.
"I've given her and Taylor the night off."
Oh.
"Why?"
He gazes at me for a beat, and his arrogant amusement is back. "Because 1
"So you're going to cook?" I give him an incredulous smirk.
"Oh, ye of little faith, Mrs. Grey. Close your eyes."
Wow. I thought i i oing to ha l-on fig ind here we are, play-
ing in the kitchen.
"Close them," he orders.
I roll them first, then oblige.
"Hmm. Not good enough." he mutters I open one eve and see hint take a
plum-colored silk scarf out of the back pocket of his jeans. It matches my dress.
Holy cow. I look quizzical!;, at him. When did he go; that'.'
"Close," he orders again. "No peeking."
"You're going to blindfold me?" 1 mutter, shocked. All of a sudden I'm
breathless.
"Yes."
"Christian " ile places a linger upon m> hps. silencing me.
I want to talk.
"We'll talk later. I want you to eat now. You said you were hungry." He
lightly kisses my lips. The silk of the scarf is soft against my eyelids as he tics it
secureK at the back ol'nn head.
"No," I mutter, figu it el; rolling my ey I le chuckles softly.
"I can tell when you're rolling your eyes, . . . and you know how that makes
me feel."
I purse my lips. "Can wc just get this o er and done with?" I snap.
"Such impatience, Mrs. Grey. So eager to talk." His tone is playful.
"I must feed you first," he says and brushes bis lips over my temple, calming
Okay . . . have ii your mty. 1 resign im self to m laic and listen to his move-
ments around the kitchen. Hie fridge door opens, and ( hrislian places various
dishes on the countertop behind me. He pads over to the microwave, pops
something in. and turns it on. My curiosity is piqued. I hear the toaster lever drop,
the turn of the control, and the quiet tick ok the timer. Hmm — toast?
"Yes. I am eager to talk," I murmur, distracted. An assortment of exotic,
spicy aromas fills lite kitchen, and 1 shift in my chair.
"Be still, Anastasia," he murmurs, and he's close to me again. "I want you to
Oh my. M t > i _ I I lu zes not even blinking.
"And don't bile our lip." < ienlK he tug:, im bottom lip free of my teeth, and
I can't help my smile.
Next, I hear the sharp pop of a cork being drawn from a bottle and the gentle
glug of wine being poured into a glass. Then a moment ok silence followed by a
quiet click and the soft hiss of white noise from the surround-sound speakers as
they come to life t i I i I m' I know Christian
turns the volume down to background level. A man starts to sing, his voice deep,
low, and sexy.
"A drink first In < I i I i i i nc horn the song.
"Head back." I tip my head back. "Further," he prompts.
I oblige, and his lips are on mine. Cool crisp wine flows into my mouth. I
II 11 1 1 III 1 i o — me trussed
up on my bed in Vancouver before I graduated with a hot, angry Christian not ap-
preciating my e-mail. Hmm . . . have times- changed? Not much. Except now I re-
cognize the wine, Christian's favorite — a Sancerre.
"Hmm." I murmur in appreciation.
"You like the wine?" he whispers, his breath warm on my check. I'm bathed
in i i i i i ii hi lit 1 i 1 1 i 1 1 1 1 i i i I d> even though he
doesn't touch me.
"Yes," 1 breathe.
"More?"
"I always want more, with you."
I almost hear his grin. It makes me grin, too. "Mrs. Grey, are you flirting with
"Yes."
His wedding ring clinks against the glass as he takes another sip of wine.
Now that is a sexy sound. litis lime he pulls m; head righl back, cradling me. He
kisses me once more, and greedily J swallow the wine he gives me. He smiles as
"Hungry?"
"I think we've already established that. Mr. Grey."
The troubadour on the iPod is singing about wicked games. Hmm . . . How
The microwave pings, and Christian releases me. 1 sit upright. The food
smells spicy: garlic, mini, orcgano. rosemary, and lamb. 1 think. Hie door lo the
microwae opens, ami the appetizing smell grows stronger.
"Shit! Christ 1 " ( hristian curses, and a dish clatters onto the eounicrlop.
Oh Fifty! "You okay?"
"Yes!" he snaps, his voice tight. A moment later, he's standing beside me
"I just burned myself. Here." He eases his index finger into my mouth.
"Maybe on could suck il heller."
"Oh." Clasping his hand, I draw his finger slowly from my mouth. "There,
there," I soothe, and leaning for\ ard ! blow, cooling his linger, then kiss il genlK
twice. He stops breathing. 1 rcinserl il into m mouth and sin k gently. He inhales
sharply, and the sound travels straight to my groin. He tastes as delicious as ever,
and I realize that this is his game — the slow seduction of his wife. I thought he
was mad, and now . . . ? This man. my husband, is so confusing. But this is how I
like him. Playful. Fun Se\ as hell. I Ic's go.cn me some answers, but I'm greedy.
I want more, but I want to pla i > Iter 111 inxiet; .r i u nsion of today, and
the nightmare of last night w ill) .lack this is a w clcome diversion.
"What ate you thinking'.'" Christian murmurs, slopping my thoughts in their
tracks as he pulls his finger out of my mouth.
He stills beside me. "Fifty Shades, baby," he says eventually and plants a
"My Fifty Shades." 1 w hisper. < irabbing his 1 -shirt, i pull him back to mc.
"Oh no you don't. Mis. Circy. No touching . . . not yet." ile takes my hand,
pries it off his T-shirt, and kisses each finger in turn.
lit i i ] | t i i ii I I I i n I I i i
"More?"
I nod. He gives mc another forkful, and 1 chew il enthusiastically. He puts the
fork down and he tears . . . bread, I think.
"Open," he orders.
This time it's pita bread and hummus. 1 realize Mrs. Jones — or maybe even
Christian — has been shopping at the delicatessen I discovered about five weeks
ago only two blocks from Fscala. ! chew gratefully. Christian in a playful mood
increases my appetite.
"More?" he asks.
I nod. "More of everything. Please. I'm starving."
I hear his delighted grin. Slow l> and patiently lie feeds me. occasional!) kiss-
ing a morsel of food from the corner of my mouth or wiping it off with his fin-
gers. Intermittently . lie oilers mc a sip of wine in his unique way.