Darker (44 page)

“If you need me. I mean it.”

“I know. Thank you, Christian. I love you.”

Those three little words.

They used to terrify me and now I can’t wait to hear her say them.

“I love you, too, baby.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Laters, baby.”

Taylor pulls up outside Grey House.

“José Rodriquez will be delivering some portraits to Escala tomorrow,” I inform him.

“I’ll let Gail know.”

“He’s staying the night.”

Taylor checks me in the rearview mirror, surprised, I think. “Tell Gail that, too,” I add.

“Yes, sir.”

AS THE ELEVATOR SHOOTS
up to my floor, I allow myself a brief fantasy about married life. It’s weird, this
hope.
Something I’m not used to. I imagine taking Ana to Europe, to Asia; I could show her the world. We could go anywhere and everywhere. I could take her to England; she’d love that.

And we’d return home to Escala.

Escala? Maybe my apartment has too many memories of other women. Perhaps I should buy a house that would be ours alone, where we can create our own memories.

But keep Escala. It’s handy for downtown.

The elevator doors open.

“Good morning, Mr. Grey,” the new girl says.

“Good morning—” I can’t remember her name.

“Coffee?”

“Please. Black. Where’s Andrea?”

“She’s around.” New Girl smiles and scurries off to make my coffee.

AT MY DESK,
I start perusing houses on the Web. Andrea knocks and enters a few minutes later with my coffee. “Good morning, Mr. Grey.”

“Andrea, good morning. I’d like you to send some flowers to Anastasia Steele.”

“What would you like to send?”

“She’s had a promotion. Maybe some roses. Pink and white.”

“Okay.”

“And can you get me Welch on the line?”

“Yes, sir. Do you remember that you’re seeing Mr. Bastille today at Escala, not here?”

“Oh, yes. Thanks. Who has the gym booked here?”

“The yoga club, sir.”

I make a face.

She stifles her smile. “Ros would like a word, too.”

“Thanks.”

AFTER MY CALLS,
I go back to looking at houses online. I remember when I bought my apartment at Escala, a broker did it all for me—and it was bought off-plan. It seemed like a great investment, so I didn’t look further.

Now I’m getting sucked into real-estate websites, looking at property after property. It’s addictive.

I’ve coveted the big houses on the shores of the Sound for all the years that I’ve sailed. I think I’d like a home that looks out across the water. I grew up in a house like that; my parents live on the shores of Lake Washington.

A family house.

Family.

Kids.

I shake my head. Not for a long time. Ana’s young. She’s only twenty-one. We have years before we have to think about kids.

What kind of father would I be?

Grey, don’t dwell.

I’d like to find a plot of land and build a house. Make it ecologically sustainable. Elliot could build it for me. A couple of the listings meet my criteria; one of the homes looks out across the Sound. The house is old, built in 1924, and has only come on the market in the last few days. The photographs are spectacular. Especially at twilight. For me, it will be all about the view. We can knock this house down and start again.

I check what time the sun will set this evening: 9:09 p.m.

Maybe I could get an appointment to see the house at dusk one night this week.

Andrea knocks and enters.

“Mr. Grey, I have a choice of flowers here.” She places some printouts on my desk.

“This one.” It’s a huge basket of white and blush roses. Ana will love it. “And can you get me in to see this house? I’ll e-mail you the link. I’d love to do an evening around sunset as soon as possible.”

“Sure. What would you like to say on the card?”

“Put the florist through to me when you’ve ordered the flowers, and I’ll tell her directly.”

“Very good, Mr. Grey.” Andrea exits.

Three minutes later she puts through the florist, who cheerily asks me to dictate a message for the card. “Congratulations, Miss Steele. And all on your own! No help from your overfriendly, neighborhood, megalomaniac CEO. Love, Christian.”

“Got that. Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you.”

I go back to looking at houses online, and I know that I’m distracting myself from the anxiety I feel about Ana’s appointment with Flynn later today.
Displacing
. That’s what Flynn would call it. But my happiness hangs in the balance.

And houses are distracting.

What will Flynn say?

After half an hour of looking at houses and not doing any work, I give in and call Flynn.

“You’ve caught me between patients. Is it urgent?” he says.

“I was calling to find out about Leila.”

“She had another comfortable night. I hope to see her later this afternoon. And I’m seeing you, too, yes?”

“Yes. With Ana.”

There’s a moment of silence between us, and I know this is one of John’s tricks. He doesn’t speak, hoping I will fill in the ensuing silence.

“Christian, what is it?”

“This evening. Ana.”

“Yes.”

“What will you say?”

“To Ana? I don’t know what she’s going to ask me. But whatever she asks, I’ll give her the truth.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

He sighs. “I have a different perception of you than you have of yourself, Christian.”

“I’m not sure whether to be reassured or not.”

“I’ll see you this evening,” he responds.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON I’M
back from my meeting with Fred and Barney and I’m about to click on another real-estate agent’s website when I notice an e-mail from Ana. I haven’t heard from her all day. She must be busy.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
Megalomaniac…

Date:
June 16 2011 15:43

To:
Christian Grey

…is my favorite type of maniac. Thank you for the beautiful flowers. They’ve arrived in a huge wicker basket that makes me think of picnics and blankets.

x

She’s using her phone. Finally!

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Fresh Air

Date:
June 16 2011 15:55

To:
Anastasia Steele

Maniac, eh? Dr. Flynn may have something to say about that.

You want to go on a picnic?

We could have fun in the great outdoors, Anastasia…

How is your day going, baby?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
Hectic

Date:
June 16 2011 16:00

To:
Christian Grey

The day has flown by. I have hardly had a moment to myself to think about anything other than work. I think I can do this! I’ll tell you more when I’m home.

Outdoors sounds…interesting.

Love you.

A x

P.S.: Don’t worry about Dr. Flynn.

How does she know that I’m fretting about him?

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
I’ll try…

Date:
June 16 2011 16:09

To:
Anastasia Steele

…not to worry.

Laters, baby. x

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

In the gym at Escala, Bastille is on a roll, but I get a couple of kicks in and knock him on his ass.

“Something is eating you, Grey. Same girl?” he sneers, as he springs off the floor.

“None of your goddamn business, Bastille.”

We circle each other, looking for an opportunity to take each other down.

“Ah! I love that you have a woman in your life giving you a hard time. When do I get to meet her?”

“I’m not sure that’s going to happen.”

“Keep your left up, Grey. You’re vulnerable.”

He comes at me with a front kick, but I feint and skip left, avoiding him.

“Good move, Grey.”

AFTER MY SHOWER,
I get a text from Andrea.

ANDREA PARKER

Realtor can see you this evening.

8:30 p.m.

Is that okay?

Her name is Olga Kelly.

Great!

Thanks.

Please text me the address.

I WONDER WHAT ANA
will make of the house. Andrea sends me the address and the access code to the front gates. I memorize the code and find the house on Google Maps. While I’m working out a route from Flynn’s place to the house, my phone rings. It’s Ros. I stare out of the balcony window as she gives me some good news.

“Fred has come back to me. Kavanagh is a go,” she says.

“Ros, that’s great.”

“He has a few technical issues that he wants his people to discuss with our people. He’d like a meeting tomorrow morning. Breakfast. I’ve told Andrea.”

“Tell Barney and we’ll go from there,” I respond, and I turn away from the view of Seattle and the Sound to find Ana watching me.

“Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good-bye.” I hang up and stride over to meet my girl, who looks sweet and shy as she stands on the threshold of the living room. “Good evening, Miss Steele.” I kiss her and hold her close. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

“You’ve showered.”

“I’ve just had a workout with Claude.”

“Oh.”

“Managed to knock him on his ass twice.” It’s a memory to be savored.

“That doesn’t happen often?”

“No. Very satisfying when it does. Hungry?”

She shakes her head and seems worried.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m nervous. About Dr. Flynn.”

“Me, too. How was your day?” I release her.

“Great. Busy. I couldn’t believe it when Elizabeth, our HR person, asked me to fill in. I had to go to the senior editors’ lunch meeting and I managed to get two of the manuscripts I was championing considered.”

She doesn’t stop. She’s excited. Her eyes are shining; she’s passionate about what she’s been doing. It’s a pleasure to behold.

“Oh—there’s one more thing I should tell you. I was supposed to have lunch with Mia.”

“You never mentioned that.”

“I know, I forgot. I couldn’t make it because of the meeting, and Ethan took her out to lunch instead.”

The beach bum, with my sister. I’m not sure how I feel about that. “I see. Stop biting your lip.”

“I’m going to freshen up,” she says quickly, before I can ask her any more about Kavanagh and my baby sister.

I’ve never really thought about my sister dating. There was that guy at the ball, but she didn’t seem particularly interested in him.

“I USUALLY RUN HERE
from home,” I mention, as I park the Saab. “This is a great car.”

“I think so, too. Christian…I—”

My gut tightens.

“What is it, Ana?”

“Here.” From her purse she hands me a small dark box wrapped in a ribbon. “This is for you for your birthday. I wanted to give it to you now—but only if you promise not to open it until Saturday, okay?”

I swallow to contain my relief. “Okay.”

She takes a deep, nervous breath. Why is she anxious about this? I shake it. It sounds small and plastic. What the hell has she given me?

I look up at her.

Whatever it is, I’m sure I’m going to love it. I give her a broad smile.

My birthday is on Saturday. She will be here on that day—or so this gift implies. Doesn’t it?

“You can’t open it until Saturday,” she says, waving a finger at me.

“I get it. Why are you giving this to me now?” I place it in my inside pocket.

“Because I can, Mr. Grey.”

“Why, Miss Steele, you stole my line.”

“I did. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

FLYNN STANDS AS WE
enter his office. “Christian.”

“John.” We shake hands. “You remember Anastasia?”

“How could I forget? Anastasia, welcome.”

“Ana, please,” she says, as they shake hands. He directs us toward his sofas.

I wait for Ana to sit down, admiring the fit of the navy dress she’s changed into, and I take the other sofa but sit close to her. Flynn takes his usual chair. I place my hand on Ana’s and give her hand a squeeze.

“Christian has requested that you accompany him to one of our sessions,” Flynn says. “Just so you know, we treat these sessions with absolute confidentiality—”

He stops when Ana interrupts. “Oh—um, I’ve signed an NDA,” she says quickly.

Shit.

I release her hand.

“A nondisclosure agreement?” Flynn gives me a puzzled look.

I shrug but say nothing.

“You start all your relationships with women with an NDA?” he asks me.

“The contractual ones, I do.”

Flynn stifles a smile. “You’ve had other types of relationships with women?”

Shit.

“No,” I respond, amused by his reaction. He knows this.

“As I thought.” Flynn turns his attention back to Ana. “Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about confidentiality, but may I suggest that the two of you discuss this at some point? As I understand, you’re no longer entering into that kind of contractual relationship.”

“Different kind of contract, hopefully,” I say, with a look at Ana.

She blushes.

“Ana. You’ll have to forgive me, but I probably know a lot more about you than you think. Christian has been very forthcoming.”

She glances at me.

“An NDA? That must have shocked you,” Flynn continues.

“Oh, I think the shock of that has paled into insignificance, given Christian’s most recent revelations,” she says, and her voice is low and husky.

I shift in my seat.

“I’m sure. So, Christian, what would you like to discuss?”

I shrug. “Anastasia wanted to see you. Perhaps you should ask her.”

But Ana is staring at a box of tissues on the coffee table in front of her.

“Would you be more comfortable if Christian left us for a while?” Flynn asks her.

What?

Ana’s eyes dart to me. “Yes,” she says.

Fuck.

But?

Shit.

I stand up. “I’ll be in the waiting room.”

“Thank you, Christian,” Flynn says. I give Ana a long look, trying to tell her I’m ready for this commitment that I want to make to her. Then I stalk out of the room, closing the door behind me.

Flynn’s receptionist Janet looks up, but I ignore her and wander into the waiting room, where I flop into one of the leather armchairs.

What will they discuss?

You, Grey. You.

Closing my eyes, I lean back and try to relax.

Blood thrums through my ears, a thump, thump, thump that’s impossible to ignore.

Find your happy place, Grey.

I’m in the orchard with Elliot. We’re kids. We’re running through the trees. Laughing. Picking apples. Eating apples. Grandpa is watching us. Laughing too.

We’re in a kayak with Mom. Dad and Mia are ahead of us. We’re racing Dad.

Elliot and I are paddling with all our twelve-year-old fury. Mom is laughing. Mia splashes us with her paddle.

“Fuck! Elliot!” We’re on a Hobie Cat. He has the tiller and we’re flying the hull, tearing downwind across Lake Washington. Elliot whoops with joy as we trapeze over the side of the hull. We’re wet. Exhilarated. And fighting the wind.

I’m making love to Ana. Breathing in her scent. Kissing her throat, her breast.

My body responds.

Fuck. No.
I open my eyes and stare at the utilitarian brass chandelier on the white ceiling, and shift in my seat.

What are they talking about?

I get up and start pacing. But I sit down again and leaf through one of the
National Geographic
magazines, the only publication that Flynn offers in his waiting room.

I can’t concentrate on any of the articles.

Nice photographs, though.

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

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

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

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

“I think time is up, John.”

“Nearly, Christian. Join us.”

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

“Did you have any other questions, Ana?”

She shakes her head.

“Christian?”

“Not today, John.”

“It may be beneficial if you both come again. I’m sure Ana will have more questions.”

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

“Okay?” I ask gently.

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

“How is she?” I ask him, and he knows I’m referring to Leila.

“She’ll get there,” he says.

“Good. Keep me updated as to her progress.”

“I will.”

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

Her shy nod is a relief.

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

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

“It was good.”

And? I’m dying here, Ana.

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

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

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.”

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

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

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

Who is it?

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

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

Embrace her friends, Grey.

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

Is she okay? I watch her carefully. Waiting.

“Yes. Serious,” she answers, her expression stern.

What’s serious?

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

“How’s your friend?” I ask.

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

“You don’t think he’ll try anything?”

“No!”

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

She purses her lips—amused, I think. “Can I drive?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why, exactly?”

“Because I don’t like to be driven.”

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

“I trust Taylor’s driving implicitly.”

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

I shrug. I want to drive.

“Is this my car?”

“Of course it’s your car.”

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

“But you don’t know where we’re going.”

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

“Great job, eh?” I ask through my smile.

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

“Well, in that case.” I hand her the keys and open the driver’s door for her.

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

“Continue along this street.”

“You’re not going to be more specific?” she asks.

I give her a slight smile.

Tit for tat, baby.

She narrows her eyes.

“At the light, turn right,” I say.

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

“Steady. Ana!”

Her mouth sets in a grim line.

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

“I am slowing down!” she shouts as she brakes.

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

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

“What are you doing?”

“Letting you drive.”

“Why?”

“So I can look at you.”

I laugh. “No, no. You wanted to drive. So you drive, and I’ll look at you.”

She turns to say something to me.

“Keep your eyes on the road!” I shout.

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