Grey (23 page)

I stalk back into the hotel, make for the bar, and order a bottle of the Sancerre. Taking it with me, I head up to my room. My laptop lies open on my desk, and before I uncork the wine, I sit down and start typing an e-mail.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Tonight

Date:
May 25 2011 22:01

To:
Anastasia Steele

I don't understand why you ran this evening. I sincerely hope I answered all your questions to your satisfaction. I know I have given you a great deal to contemplate, and I fervently hope that you will give my proposal your serious consideration. I really want to make this work. We will take it slow.

Trust me.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

I glance at my watch. It will take her at least twenty minutes to get home, probably longer in that deathtrap. I e-mail Taylor.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Audi A3

Date:
May 25 2011 22:04

To:
J B Taylor

I need that Audi delivered here tomorrow.

Thanks.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Opening the Sancerre, I pour myself a glass, and picking up my book, I sit and read, trying hard to concentrate. My eyes keep straying to my laptop screen. When will she reply?

As the minutes tick by, my anxiety balloons; why hasn't she returned my e-mail?

At 11:00, I text her.

Are you home safe?

But I get nothing in response. Perhaps she's gone straight to bed. Before midnight I send another e-mail.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Tonight

Date:
May 25 2011 23:58

To:
Anastasia Steele

I hope you made it home in that car of yours.

Let me know if you're okay.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

I'll see her tomorrow at the graduation ceremony and I'll find out then if she's turning me down. With that depressing thought I strip and climb into bed and stare at the ceiling.

You've really fucked up this deal, Grey.

THURSDAY, MAY 26, 2011

Mommy is gone. Sometimes she goes outside.

And it is only me. Me and my cars and my blankie.

When she comes home she sleeps on the couch. The couch is brown and sticky. She is tired. Sometimes I cover her with my blankie.

Or she comes home with something to eat. I like those days. We have bread and butter. And sometimes we have macrami and cheese. That is my favorite.

Today Mommy is gone. I play with my cars. They go fast on the floor. My mommy is gone. She will come back. She will. When is Mommy coming home?

It is dark now, and my mommy is gone. I can reach the light when I stand on the stool.

On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.

Light. Dark. Light. Dark. Light.

I'm hungry. I eat the cheese. There is cheese in the fridge. Cheese with blue fur.

When is Mommy coming home?

Sometimes she comes home with him. I hate him. I hide when he comes. My favorite place is in my mommy's closet. It smells of Mommy. It smells of Mommy when she's happy.

When is Mommy coming home?

My bed is cold. And I am hungry. I have my blankie and my cars but not my mommy. When is Mommy coming home?

I wake with a start.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I hate my dreams. They're riddled with harrowing memories, distorted reminders of a time I want to forget. My heart is pounding and I'm drenched with sweat. But the worst consequence of these nightmares is dealing with the overwhelming anxiety when I wake.

My nightmares have recently become more frequent, and more vivid. I have no idea why. Damned Flynn—he's not back until sometime next week. I run both of my hands through my hair and check the time. It's 5:38, and the dawn light is seeping through the curtains. It's nearly time to get up.

Go for a run, Grey.

THERE IS STILL NO
text or e-mail from Ana. As my feet pound the sidewalk, my anxiety grows.

Leave it, Grey.

Just fucking leave it!

I know I'll see her at the graduation ceremony.

But I can't leave it.

Before my shower, I send her another text.

Call me.

I just need to know she's safe.

AFTER BREAKFAST THERE'S STILL
no word from Ana. To get her out of my head I work for a couple of hours on my commencement speech. At the graduation ceremony later this morning I'll be honoring the extraordinary work of the environmental sciences department and the progress they've made in partnership with GEH in arable technology for developing countries.

“All part of your feed-the-world plan?”
Ana's shrewd words echo in my head, and they nudge at last night's nightmare.

I shrug it off as I rewrite. Sam, my VP for publicity, has sent a draft that is way too pretentious for me. It takes me an hour to rework his media-speak bullshit into something more human.

Nine thirty and still no word from Ana. Her radio silence is worrying—and frankly rude. I call, but her phone goes straight to a generic voice mail message.

I hang up.

Show some dignity, Grey.

There's a ping in my inbox, and my heartbeat spikes—but it's from Mia. In spite of my bad mood, I smile. I've missed that kid.

From:
Mia G. Chef Extraordinaire

Subject:
Flights

Date:
May 26 2011 18:32 GMT-1

To:
Christian Grey

Hey, Christian,

I can't wait to get out of here!

Rescue me. Please.

My flight number on Saturday is AF3622. It arrives at 12:22 p.m. and Dad is making me fly coach! *pouting!

I will have lots of luggage. Love. Love. Love Paris fashion.

Mom says you have a girlfriend.

Is this true?

What's she like?

I NEED TO KNOW!!!!!

See you Saturday. Missed you so much.

À bientôt mon frère.

Mxxxxxxxxx

Oh hell!
My mother's big mouth. Ana is not my girlfriend! And come Saturday I'll have to fend off my sister's equally big mouth and her inherent optimism and her prying questions. She can be exhausting. Making a mental note of the flight number and time, I send Mia a quick e-mail to let her know I'll be there.

At 9:45 I get ready for the ceremony. Gray suit, white shirt, and
of course
that
tie. It will be my subtle message to Ana that I haven't given up, and a reminder of good times.

Yeah, real good times…images of her bound and wanting come to mind.
Damn it. Why hasn't she called?
I press redial.

Shit.

Still no fucking answer!

At 10:00 precisely, there's a knock on my door. It's Taylor.

“Good morning,” I say, as he comes in.

“Mr. Grey.”

“How was yesterday?”

“Good, sir.” Taylor's demeanor shifts, and his expression warms. He must be thinking of his daughter.

“Sophie?”

“She's a doll, sir. And doing very well at school.”

“That's great to hear.”

“The A3 will be in Portland later this afternoon.”

“Excellent. Let's go.”

And though I'm loath to admit it, I'm anxious to see Miss Steele.

THE CHANCELLOR'S SECRETARY USHERS
me into a small room adjacent to the WSU auditorium. She blushes, almost as much as a certain young woman I know intimately. There, in the greenroom, academics, administrative staff, and a few students are having pre-graduation coffee. Among them, to my surprise, is Katherine Kavanagh.

“Hi, Christian,” she says, strutting toward me with the confidence of the well-heeled. She's in her graduation gown and appears cheerful enough; surely she's seen Ana.

“Hi, Katherine. How are you?”

“You seem baffled to see me here,” she says, ignoring my greeting and sounding a little affronted. “I'm valedictorian. Didn't Elliot tell you?”

“No, he didn't.”
We're not in each other's pockets, for Christ's sake.
“Congratulations,” I add as a courtesy.

“Thank you.” Her tone is clipped.

“Is Ana here?”

“Soon. She's coming with her dad.”

“You saw her this morning?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I wanted to know if she made it home in that deathtrap she calls a car.”

“Wanda. She calls it Wanda. And yes, she did.” She gazes at me with a quizzical expression.

“I'm glad to hear it.”

At that point the chancellor joins us, and with a polite smile to Kavanagh, escorts me over to meet the other academics.

I'm relieved that Ana is in one piece, but pissed that she hasn't replied to any of my messages.

It's not a good sign.

But I don't have long to dwell on this discouraging state of affairs—one of the faculty members announces it's time to begin and herds us out into the corridor.

In a moment of weakness I try Ana's phone once more. It goes straight to voice mail, and I'm interrupted by Kavanagh. “I'm looking forward to your commencement address,” she says as we walk down the hallway.

When we reach the auditorium I notice it's larger than I expected, and packed. The audience, as one, rises and applauds as we file onto the stage. The clapping intensifies, then slowly subsides to an expectant buzz as everyone takes their seats.

Once the chancellor begins his welcome address I'm able to scan the room. The front rows are filled with students, in identical black-and-red WSU robes.
Where is she?
Methodically I inspect each row.

There you are.

I find her huddled in the second row. She's alive. I feel foolish for expending so much anxiety and energy on her whereabouts last night and this morning. Her brilliant blue eyes are wide as they lock with mine, and she shifts in her seat, a slow flush coloring her cheeks.

Yes. I've found you. And you haven't replied to my messages.
She's avoiding me and I'm pissed. Really pissed. Closing my eyes, I imagine dripping hot wax onto her breasts and her squirming beneath me. This has a radical effect on my body.

Shit.

Get it together, Grey.

Dismissing her from my mind, I marshal my lascivious thoughts and concentrate on the speeches.

Kavanagh gives an inspiring address about embracing opportunities—
yes, carpe diem, Kate
—and gets a rousing reception when she's finished. She's obviously smart and popular and confident. Not the shy and retiring wallflower that is the lovely Miss Steele. It really amazes me that these two are friends.

I hear my name announced; the chancellor has introduced me. I rise and approach the lectern.
Showtime, Grey.

“I'm profoundly grateful and touched by the great compliment accorded to me by the authorities of WSU today. It offers me a rare opportunity to talk about the impressive work of the environmental sciences department here at the university. Our aim is to develop viable and ecologically sustainable methods of farming for third world countries; our ultimate goal is to help eradicate hunger and poverty across the globe. Over a billion people, mainly in sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and Latin America, live in abject poverty. Agricultural dysfunction is rife within these parts of the world, and the result is ecological and social destruction. I have known what it's like to be profoundly hungry. This is a very personal journey for me.

“As partners, WSU and GEH have made tremendous progress in soil fertility and arable technology. We are pioneering low-input systems in developing countries, and our test sites have increased crop yields up to thirty percent per hectare. WSU has been instrumental in this fantastic achievement. And GEH is proud of those students who join us through internships to work at our test sites in Africa. The work they do there benefits the local communities and the students themselves. Together we can fight hunger and the abject poverty that blights these regions.

“But in this age of technological evolution, as the first world races ahead, widening the gap between the haves and the have-nots, it's vital to remember that we must not squander the world's finite resources. These resources are for all humanity, and we need to harness them, find ways of renewing them, and develop new solutions to feed our overpopulated planet.

“As I've said, the work that GEH and WSU are doing together will provide solutions, and it's our job to get the message out there. It's through GEH's telecommunications division that we intend to supply information and education to the developing world. I'm proud to say that we're making impressive progress in solar technology, battery life, and wireless distribution that will bring the Internet to the remotest parts of the world—and our goal is to make it free to users at the point of delivery. Access to education and information, which we take for granted here, is the crucial component for ending poverty in these developing regions.

“We're lucky. We're all privileged here. Some more than others, and I include myself in that category. We have a moral obligation to offer those less fortunate a decent life that's healthy, secure, and well nourished, with access to more of the resources that we all enjoy here.

“I'll leave you with a quote that has always resonated with me. And I'm paraphrasing a Native American saying: ‘Only when the last leaf has fallen, the last tree has died, and the last fish been caught will we realize that we cannot eat money.'  ”

As I sit down to rousing applause, I resist looking at Ana and examine the WSU banner hanging at the back of the auditorium. If she wants to ignore me, fine. Two can play at that game.

The vice chancellor rises to commence handing out the degrees. And so begins the agonizing wait until we reach the
S
's and I can see her again.

After an eternity I hear her name called: “Anastasia Steele.” A ripple of applause, and she's walking toward me looking pensive and worried.

Shit.

What is she thinking?

Hold it together, Grey.

“Congratulations, Miss Steele,” I say as I give Ana her degree. We shake hands, but I don't let hers go. “Do you have a problem with your laptop?”

She looks perplexed. “No.”

“Then you
are
ignoring my e-mails?” I release her.

“I only saw the mergers and acquisitions one.”

What the hell does that mean?

Her frown deepens, but I have to let her go—there's a line forming behind her.

“Later.” I let her know that we're not finished with this conversation as she moves on.

I'm in purgatory by the time we've reached the end of the line. I've been ogled, and had eyelashes batted at me, silly giggling girls squeezing my hand, and five notes with phone numbers pressed into my palm. I'm relieved as I exit the stage along with the faculty, to the strains of some dreary processional music and applause.

In the corridor I grab Kavanagh's arm. “I need to speak to Ana. Can you find her? Now.”

Kavanagh is taken aback, but before she can say anything I add, in as polite a tone as I can manage, “Please.”

Her lips thin with disapproval, but she waits with me as the academics file past and then she returns to the auditorium. The chancellor stops to congratulate me on my speech.

“It was an honor to be asked,” I respond, shaking his hand once again. Out of the corner of my eye I spy Kate in the corridor—with Ana at her side. Excusing myself, I stride toward Ana.

“Thank you,” I say to Kate, who gives Ana a worried glance. Ignoring her, I take Ana's elbow and lead her through the first door I find. It's a men's locker room, and from the fresh smell I can tell it's empty. Locking the door, I turn to face Miss Steele. “Why haven't you e-mailed me? Or texted me back?” I demand.

She blinks a couple of times, consternation writ large on her face. “I haven't looked at my computer today, or my phone.” She seems genuinely bewildered by my outburst. “That was a great speech,” she adds.