Part II 16

He answers on the second ring. “Anastasia. Youokay?” he asks concerned.“They’ve just given me Jack’s job to mind,temporarily,” I blurt out.“You’re kidding,” he whispers, shocked.“Did you ha一ve anything to do with this?” My voice issharper than I mean it to be.“No—no, not at all. I mean, with all due respect,“No—no, not at all. I mean, with all due respect,Anastasia, you’ve only been there for a week or so—andI don’t mean that unkindly.”“I know.” I frown. “Apparently Jack really rated me.”“Did he now?” Christian’s tone is frosty and then hesighs.“Well, baby, if they think you can do it, I’m sure youcan. Congratulations. Perhaps we should celebrate afterwe’ve seen Flynn.”“Hmm. Are you sure you had nothing to do with this?”He is silent for a moment, and then he says in a lowmenacing voice. “Do you doub一t me? It angers me that youdo.”I swallow. Boy, he gets mad so easily. “I’m sorry,” Ibreathe, chastened.“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be here. AndAnastasia?”“What?”“Use your Blackberry,” he adds tersely.“Yes, Christian.”He doesn’t hang up as I expect him to but takes adeep breath.“I mean it. If you need me, I’m here.” His words aremuch softer, conciliatory. Oh, he’s so mercurial . . . hismood swings are like a metronome set at presto.“Okay,” I murmur. “I’d better go. I ha一ve to moveoffices.”“If you need me. I mean it,” he murmurs.“I know, thank you, Christian. I love you.”I sense his grin at the other end of the phone. I’ve wonI sense his grin at the other end of the phone. I’ve wonhim back.“I love you, too, baby.” Oh, will I ever tire of himsaying those words to me?“I’ll talk to you later.”“Laters, baby.”I hang up and glance at Jack’s office. My office. Holycow—Anastasia Steele, Acting Commissioning Editor.Who would ha一ve thought? I should ask for more money.What would Jack think if he knew? I shudder at thethought and wonder idly how he’s spent his morning, not inNew York as he expected. I stroll into his—my office—sitdown at the desk, and start reading the job description.At twelve thirty, Elizabeth buzzes me.“Ana, we need you in a meeting at one o’clock in theboardroom. Jerry Roach and Kay Bestie will be there—you know, the company president and vice president? Allthe commissioning editors will be attending.”Shit!“Do I need to prepare anything?”“No, this is just an informal gathering we do once amonth. Lunch will be provided.”“I’ll be there.” I hang up.Holy shit! I check through the current roster of Jack’sauthors. Yes, I’ve pretty much got those nailed. I ha一ve thefive manuscripts he’s championing, plus two more, whichshould really be considered for publication. I take a deepbreath—I cannot believe it’s lunchtime already. The dayhas flown by, and I’m loving it. There has been so much toabsorb this morning. A ping from my calendar announcesabsorb this morning. A ping from my calendar announcesan appointment.Oh no—Mia! In all the excitement I ha一ve forgottenabout our lunch. I fish out my Blackberry and try franticallyto find her phone number.My phone buzzes.“It’s him, in reception.” Claire’s voice is hushed.“Who?” For a moment, I think it might be Christian.“The blond god.”“Ethan?”Oh, what does he want? I immediately feel guilty fornot ha一ving called him.Ethan, dressed in a checked blue shirt, white T-shirt,and jeans, beams at me when I appear.“Wow! You look hot, Steele,” he says, noddingappreciatively. He gives me a quick hug.“Is everything okay?” I ask.He frowns. “Everything’s fine, Ana. I just wanted tosee you. I’ve not heard from you in a while, and I wantedto check how Mr. Mogul was treating you.”I flush and can’t help my smile.“Okay!” Ethan exclaims, holding up his hands. “I cantell by the secret smile. I don’t want to know any more. Icame by on the off chance you could do lunch. I’menrolling at Seattle for psych courses in September. Formy master’s.”“Oh Ethan. So much has happened. I ha一ve a ton to tellyou, but right now, I can’t. I ha一ve a meeting.” An idea hitsme hard. “And I wonder if you can do me a really, really,really big fa一vor?” I clasp my hands together in supplication.“Sure,” he says, bemused by my pleading.“I’m supposed to be ha一ving lunch with Christian andElliot’s sister—but I can’t get hold of her, and thismeeting’s just been sprung on me. Please will you take herfor lunch? Please?”“Aw, Ana! I don’t want to babysit some brat.”“Please, Ethan.” I give him the biggest-bluest-longesteye-lashed look that I can manage. He rolls his eyes and Iknow I’ve got him.“You’ll cook me something?” he mutters.“Sure, whatever, whenever.”“So where is she?”“She’s due here now.” And as if on cue, I hear hervoice.“Ana!” she calls from the front door.We both turn, and there she is—all curvaceous and tallwith her sleek black bob—wearing a short mint-greenminidress and matching high-heeled pumps with strapsaround her slim ankles. She looks stunning.“The brat?” he whispers, gaping at her.“Yes. The brat that needs babysitting,” I whisper back.“Hi, Mia.” I give her a quick hug as she stares ratherblatantly at Ethan.“Mia—this is Ethan, Kate’s brother.”He nods, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Mia blinksseveral times as she gives him her hand.“Delighted to meet you,” Ethan murmurs smoothly andMia blinks again—silent for once. She blushes.Holy cow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her blush.“I can’t make lunch,” I say lamely. “Ethan has agreedto take you, if that’s okay? Can we ha一ve a rain check?”“Sure,” she says quietly. Mia quiet, this is novel.“Yeah, I’ll take it from here. Laters, Ana,” Ethan says,offering Mia his arm. She accepts it with a shy smile.“Bye, Ana.” Mia turns to me and mouths, “Oh. My.God!” giving me an exaggerated wink.Jeez . . . she likes him! I wa一ve at them as they lea一vethe building. I wonder what Christian’s attitude is about hissister dating? The thought makes me uneasy. She’s myage, so he can’t object, can he?This is Christian we’re dealing with. My snarkysubconscious is back, hatchet-mouthed, cardigan andpurse in the crook of her arm. I shake off the image. Mia isa grown woman and Christian can be reasonable, can’the? I dismiss the thought and head back to Jack’s . . .er . . . my office to prep for the meeting.It’s three thirty when I return. The meeting went well. Iha一ve even secured approval to progress the twomanuscripts I was championing. It’s a heady feeling.On my desk is an enormous wicker basket crammedwith stunning white and pale pink roses. Wow—thefragrance alone is hea一venly. I smile as I pick up the card. Iknow who sent them.Congratulations, Miss SteeleAnd all on your own!No help from your overfriendly, neighborhood,megalomaniac CEOLoveChristianI pick up my Blackberry to e-mail him.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: Megalomaniac . . .Date: June 16, 2011 15:43To: Christian Grey. . . is my fa一vorite type of maniac. Thank you for the beautifulflowers. They’ve arrived in a huge wicker basket that makes methink of picnics and blankets.xFrom: Christian GreySubject: Fresh AirDate: June 16, 2011 15:55To: Anastasia SteeleManiac, eh? Dr. Flynn may ha一ve something to say about that.You want to go on a picnic?We could ha一ve fun in the great outdoors, Anastasia . . .We could ha一ve fun in the great outdoors, Anastasia . . .How is your day going, baby?Christian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.Oh my. I flush reading his response.From: Anastasia SteeleSubject: HecticDate: June 16, 2011 16:00To: Christian GreyThe day has flown by. I ha一ve hardly had a moment to myself tothink about anything other than work. I think I can do this! I’ll tellyou more when I’m home.Outdoors sounds . . . interesting.Love you.A xPS: Don’t worry about Dr. Flynn.My phone buzzes. It’s Claire from reception, desperate toknow who sent the flowers and what happened to Jack.Holed up in the office all day, I ha一ve missed the gossip. Itell her quickly that the flowers are from my boyfriend andthat I know very little about Jack’s departure. Mythat I know very little about Jack’s departure. MyBlackberry buzzes and I ha一ve another e-mail fromChristian.From: Christian GreySubject: I’ll try . . .Date: June 16, 2011 16:09To: Anastasia Steele. . . not to worry.Laters, baby. xChristian GreyCEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.At five thirty, I pack up my desk. I can’t believe howquickly the day has gone. I ha一ve to get back to Escala andprepare to meet Dr. Flynn. I ha一ven’t even had time tothink of questions. Perhaps today we can ha一ve an initialmeeting, and maybe Christian will let me see him again. Ishrug off the thought as I dash out of the office, wa一ving aquick good-bye to Claire.I’ve also got Christian’s birthday to think about. Iknow what I’m going to give him. I’d like him to ha一ve ittonight before we meet Flynn, but how? Beside theparking lot is a small store selling touristy trinkets.Inspiration hits me and I duck inside.Christian is on his Blackberry, standing and staring out theglass wall as I enter the great room half an hour later.Turning, he beams at me and wraps up his call.“Ros, that’s great. Tell Barney and we’ll go fromthere . . . Good-bye.”He strides over to me as I stand shyly in the entryway.He’s changed now into a white T-shirt and jeans, all badboy and smoldering. Whoa.“Good evening, Miss Steele,” he murmurs and hebends to kiss me. “Congratulations on your promotion.”He wraps his arms around me. He smells delicious.“You’ve showered.”“I’ve just had a work-out with Claude.”“Oh.”“Managed to knock him on his ass twice.” Christianbeams, boyish and pleased with himself. His grin isinfectious.“That doesn’t happen often?”“No. Very satisfying when it does. Hungry?”I shake my head.“What?” He frowns at me.“I’m nervous. About Dr. Flynn.”“Me, too. How was your day?” He releases me, and Ihim give a brief summary. He listens attentively.“Oh—there’s one more thing I should tell you,” I add.“I was supposed to ha一ve lunch with Mia.”He raises his eyebrows, surprised. “You nevermentioned that.”“I know, I forgot. I couldn’t make it because of themeeting, and Ethan took her out to lunch instead.”His face darkens. “I see. Stop biting your lip.”“I’m going to freshen up,” I say changing the subjectand turning to lea一ve before he can react any further.Dr. Flynn’s office is a short drive from Christian’sapartment. Very handy, I muse, for emergency sessions.“I usually run here from home,” Christian says as heparks my Saab. “This is a great car.” He smiles at me.“I think so, too.” I smile back at him. “Christian . . . I—” I gaze anxiously at him.“What is it, Ana?”“Here.” I pull the small black gift box from my purse.“This is for you for your birthday. I wanted to give it toyou now—but only if you promise not to open it untilSaturday, okay?”He blinks at me in surprise and swallows. “Okay,” hemurmurs cautiously.Taking a deep breath, I hand it to him, ignoring hisbemused expression. He shakes the box, and it producesa very satisfactory rattle. He frowns. I know he’sdesperate to see what it contains. Then he grins, his eyesalight with youthful, carefree excitement. Oh boy . . . helooks his age—and so beautiful.“You can’t open it until Saturday,” I warn him.“You can’t open it until Saturday,” I warn him.“I get it,” he says. “Why are you giving this to menow?” He pops the box into the inside pocket of his bluepinstriped jacket, close to his heart.How apt, I muse. I smirk at him.“Because I can, Mr. Grey.”His mouth twists with wry amusement.“Why, Miss Steele, you stole my line.”We are ushered into Dr. Flynn’s palatial office by abrisk and friendly receptionist. She greets Christianwarmly, a little too warmly for my taste—jeez, she’s oldenough to be his mother—and he knows her name.The room is understated: pale green with two darkgreen couches facing two leather winged chairs, and it hasthe atmosphere of a gentlemen’s club. Dr. Flynn is seatedat a desk at the far end of the room.As we enter, he stands and walks over to join us in theseating area. He wears black pants and a pale-blue openneckedshirt—no tie. His bright blue eyes seem to missnothing.“Christian.” He smiles amicably.“John.” Christian shakes John’s hand. “You rememberAnastasia?”“How could I forget? Anastasia, welcome.”“Ana, please,” I mumble as he shakes my hand firmly.I do love his English accent.“Ana,” he says kindly, ushering us toward thecouches.Christian gestures to one of them for me. I sit, trying tolook relaxed, resting my hand on the couch rest, and helook relaxed, resting my hand on the couch rest, and hesprawls on the other couch beside me so that we’re atright angles to each other. A small table with a simple lampis between us. I note with interest a box of tissues besidethe lamp.This isn’t what I expected. I had in my mind’s eye astark white room with a black leather chaise longue; myinner goddess might ha一ve felt more at home then.Looking relaxed and in control, Dr. Flynn takes a seatin one of the winged chairs and picks up a leather notepad.Christian crosses his legs, his ankle resting on his knee,and stretches one arm along the back of the couch.Reaching across with his other hand, he finds my hand onthe couch rest and gives it a reassuring squeeze.“Christian has requested that you accompany him toone of our sessions,” Dr. Flynn begins gently. “Just so youknow, we treat these sessions with absolute confidentiality—”I raise my eyebrow at Flynn, halting him mid-speech.“Oh—um . . . I’ve signed an NDA,” I murmur,embarrassed that he’s stopped. Both Flynn and Christianstare at me, and Christian releases my hand.“A non-disclosure agreement?” Dr. Flynn’s browfurrows, and he glances quizzically at Christian.Christian shrugs.“You start all your relationships with women with anNDA?” Dr. Flynn asks him.“The contractual ones, I do.”Dr. Flynn’s lip twitches. “You’ve had other types ofrelationships with women?” he asks, and he looks amused.relationships with women?” he asks, and he looks amused.“No,” Christian answers after a beat, and he looksamused, too.“As I thought.” Dr. Flynn turns his attention back tome. “Well, I guess we don’t ha一ve to worry aboutconfidentiality, but may I suggest that the two of youdiscuss this at some point? As I understand, you’re nolonger entering into that kind of contractual relationship.”“Different kind of contract, hopefully,” says Christiansoftly, glancing at me. I flush and Dr. Flynn narrows hiseyes.“Ana. You’ll ha一ve to forgive me, but I probably knowa lot more about you than you think. Christian has beenvery forthcoming.”I glance nervously at Christian. What has he said?“An NDA?” he continues. “That must ha一ve shockedyou.”I blink at him. “Oh, I think the shock of that has paledinto insignificance, given Christian’s most recentrevelations,” I answer, my voice soft and hesitant. I soundso nervous.“I’m sure.” Dr. Flynn smiles kindly at me. “So,Christian, what would you like to discuss?”Christian shrugs like a surly teen. “Anastasia wanted tosee you. Perhaps you should ask her.”Dr. Flynn’s face registers his surprise once more, andhe gazes shrewdly at me.Holy shit. This is mortifying. I gaze down at myfingers.“Would you be more comfortable if Christian left us for“Would you be more comfortable if Christian left us fora while?”My eyes dart to Christian and he’s gazing at meexpectantly.“Yes,” I whisper.Christian frowns and opens his mouth but closes itagain quickly and stands in one swift graceful movement.“I’ll be in the waiting room,” he says, his mouth a flat,grumpy line.Oh no.“Thank you, Christian,” Dr. Flynn says impassively.Christian gives me one long, searching look then stalksout of the room—but he doesn’t slam the door. Phew. Iimmediately relax.“He intimidates you?”“Yes. But not as much as he used to.” I feel disloyalbut it’s the truth.“That doesn’t surprise me, Ana. What can I help youwith?”I stare down at my knotted fingers. What can I ask?“Dr. Flynn, I’ve never been in a relationship before,and Christian is . . . well, he’s Christian. And over the lastweek or so, a great deal has happened. I ha一ven’t had achance to think things through.”“What do you need to think through?”I glance up at him, and his head is cocked to one sideas he gazes at me with compassion, I think.“Well . . . Christian tells me that he’s happy to giveup . . . er—” I stumble and pause. This is so much moredifficult to discuss than I’d imagined.difficult to discuss than I’d imagined.Dr. Flynn sighs. “Ana, in the very limited time thatyou’ve known him, you’ve made more progress with mypatient than I ha一ve in the last two years. You ha一ve had aprofound effect on him. You must see that.”“He’s had a profound effect on me, too. I just don’tknow if I’m enough. To fulfill his needs,” I whisper.“Is that what you need from me? Reassurance?”I nod.“Needs change,” he says simply. “Christian has foundhimself in a situation where his methods of coping are nolonger effective. Very simply, you’ve forced him toconfront some of his demons and rethink.”I blink at him. This echoes what Christian has told me.“Yes, his demons,” I murmur.“We don’t dwell on them—they’re in the past.Christian knows what his demons are, as do I—and nowI’m sure you do, too. I’m much more concerned with thefuture and getting Christian to a place where he wants tobe.”I frown and he raises an eyebrow.“The technical term is SFB一T—sorry.” He smiles. “Thatstands for Solution-Focused Brief Therapy. Essentially, it’sgoal oriented. We concentrate on where Christian wantsto be and how to get him there. It’s a dialectical approach.There’s no point in breast-beating about the past—allthat’s been picked over by every physician, psychologist,and psychiatrist Christian’s ever seen. We know why he’sthe way he is, but it’s the future that’s important. WhereChristian envisages himself, where he wants to be. It tookyou walking out on him to make him take this form oftherapy seriously. He realizes that his goal is a lovingrelationship with you. It’s that simple, and that’s whatwe’re working on now. Of course there are obstacles—his haphephobia for one.”Oh jeez . . . his what? I gasp.“I’m sorry. I mean his fear of being touched,” Dr.Flynn says, shaking his head as if scolding himself. “WhichI’m sure you’re aware of.”I flush and nod. Oh that!“He has a morbid self-abhorrence. I’m sure that comesas no surprise to you. And of course there’s theparasomnia . . . um—night terrors, sorry, to thelayperson.”I blink at him, trying to absorb all these long words. Iknow about all of this. But Flynn hasn’t mentioned mycentral concern.“But he’s a sadist. Surely, as such, he has needs whichI can’t fulfill.”Dr. Flynn actually rolls his eyes, and his mouth pressesinto a hard line. “That’s no longer recognized as apsychiatric term. I don’t know how many times I ha一ve toldhim that. It’s not even classified as a paraphilia any more,not since the nineties.”Dr. Flynn has lost me again. I blink at him. He smileskindly at me.“This is a pet peeve of mine.” He shakes his head.“Christian just thinks the worst of any given situation. It’spart of his self-abhorrence. Of course, there’s such a thingas sexual sadism, but it’s not a disease; it’s a lifestylechoice. And if it’s practiced in a safe, sane relationshipbetween consenting adults, then it’s a nonissue. Myunderstanding is that Christian has conducted all of hisBDSM relationships in this manner. You’re the first loverwho hasn’t consented, so he’s not willing to do it.”Lover!“But surely it’s not that simple.”“Why not?” Dr. Flynn shrugs good-naturedly.“Well . . . the reasons he does it.”“Ana, that’s the point. In terms of solution-focusedtherapy, it is that simple. Christian wants to be with you. Inorder to do that, he needs to forego the more extremeaspects of that kind of relationship. After all, what you’reasking for is not unreasonable . . . is it?”I flush. No, it’s not unreasonable, is it?“I don’t think so. But I worry that he does.”“Christian recognizes that and has acted accordingly.He’s not insane.” Dr. Flynn sighs. “In a nutshell, he’s not asadist, Ana. He’s an angry, frightened, brilliant young man,who was dealt a shit hand of cards when he was born. Wecan all beat our breasts about it, and analyze the who, thehow and the why to death—or Christian can move on anddecide how he wants to live. He’d found something thatworked for him for a few years, more or less, but since hemet you, it no longer works. And as a consequence, he’schanging his modus operandi. You and I ha一ve to respecthis choice and support him in it.”I gape at him. “That’s my reassurance?”“As good as it gets, Ana. There are no guarantees inthis life.” He smiles. “And that is my professional opinion.”I smile, too, weakly. Doctor jokes . . . jeez.“But he thinks of himself as a recovering alcoholic.”“Christian will always think the worst of himself. As Isaid, it’s part of his self-abhorrence. It’s in his makeup, nomatter what. Naturally he’s anxious about making thischange in his life. He’s potentially exposing himself to awhole world of emotional pain, which, incidentally, he hada taste of when you left him. Naturally he’s apprehensive.”Dr. Flynn pauses. “I don’t mean to stress how important arole you ha一ve in his Damascene conversion—his road toDamascus. But you ha一ve. Christian would not be in thisplace if he had not met you. Personally I don’t think thatan alcoholic is a very good analogy, but if it works for himfor now, then I think we should give him the benefit of thedoub一t.”Give Christian the benefit of the doub一t. I frown at thethought.“Emotionally, Christian is an adolescent, Ana. Hebypassed that phase in his life totally. He’s channeled allhis energies into succeeding in the business world, and hehas beyond all expectations. His emotional world has toplay catch-up.”“So how do I help?”Dr. Flynn laughs. “Just keep doing what you’re doing,”he grins at me. “Christian is head over heels. It’s a delightto see.”to see.”I flush, and my inner goddess is hugging herself withglee, but something bothers me.“Can I ask you one more thing?”“Of course.”I take a deep breath. “Part of me thinks that if hewasn’t this broken he wouldn’t . . . want me.”Dr. Flynn’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “That’s avery negative thing to say about yourself, Ana. And franklyit says more about you than it does about Christian. It’snot quite up there with his self-loathing, but I’m surprisedby it.”“Well, look at him . . . and then look at me.”Dr. Flynn frowns. “I ha一ve. I see an attractive youngman, and I see an attractive young woman. Ana, whydon’t you think of yourself as attractive?”Oh no . . . I don’t want this to be about me. I staredown at my fingers. There’s a sharp knock on the doorthat makes me jump. Christian comes back into the room,glaring at both of us. I flush and glance quickly at Flynn,who is smiling benignly at Christian.“Welcome back, Christian,” he says.“I think time is up, John.”“Nearly, Christian. Join us.”Christian sits down, beside me this time, and places hishand possessively on my knee. His action does not gounnoticed by Dr. Flynn.“Did you ha一ve any other questions, Ana?” Dr. Flynnasks and his concern is obvious. Shit . . . I should not ha一veasked that question. I shake my head.asked that question. I shake my head.“Christian?”“Not today, John.”Flynn nods.“It may be beneficial if you both come again. I’m sureAna will ha一ve more questions.”Christian nods, reluctantly.I flush. Shit . . . he wants to delve. Christian clasps myhand and regards me intently.“Okay?” he asks softly.I smile at him, nodding. Yes, we’re going for thebenefit of the doub一t, courtesy of the good doctor fromEngland.Christian squeezes my hand and turns to Flynn.“How is she?” he asks softly.Me?“She’ll get there,” he says reassuringly.“Good. Keep me updated of her progress.”“I will.”Holy fuck. They’re talking about Leila.“Shall we go and celebrate your promotion?” Christianasks me pointedly.I nod shyly as Christian stands.We say our quick good-byes to Dr. Flynn, andChristian ushers me out with unseemly haste.In the street, he turns to me. “How was that?” his voice isanxious.“It was good.”“It was good.”He regards me suspiciously. I cock my head to oneside.“Mr. Grey, please don’t look at me that way. Underdoctor’s orders I am going to give you the benefit of thedoub一t.”“What does that mean?”“You’ll see.”His mouth twists and his eyes narrow. “Get in the car,”he orders while opening the passenger door of the Saab.Oh, change of direction. My Blackberry buzzes. I haulit out of my purse.Shit, José!“Hi!”“Ana, hi . . .”I stare at Fifty, who is eyeing me suspiciously. “José,” Imouth at him. He stares impassively at me, but his eyesharden. Does he think I don’t notice? I turn my attentionback to José.“Sorry I ha一ven’t called you. Is it about tomorrow?” Iask José, but stare up at Christian.“Yeah, listen—I spoke with some guy at Grey’s place,so I know where I’m delivering the photos, and I shouldget there between five and six . . . after that, I’m free.”Oh.“Well, I’m actually staying with Christian at themoment, and if you want to, he says you can stay at hisplace.”Christian presses his mouth in a hard line. Hmm—some host he is.some host he is.José is silent for a moment, absorbing this news. Icringe. I ha一ven’t had a chance to talk to him aboutChristian.“Okay,” he says eventually. “This thing with Grey, it’sserious?”I turn away from the car and pace to the other side ofthe sidewalk.“Yes.”“How serious?”I roll my eyes and pause. Why does Christian ha一ve tobe listening?“Serious.”“Is he with you now? That why you’re speaking inmonosyllables?”“Yes.”“Okay. So are you allowed out tomorrow?”“Of course I am.” I hope. I automatically cross myfingers.“So where shall I meet you?”“You could collect me from work,” I offer.“Okay.”“I’ll text you the address.”“What time?”“Say six?”“Sure. I’ll see you then, Ana. Looking forward to it. Imiss you.”I grin. “Cool. I’ll see you then.” I switch the phone offand turn.Christian is leaning against the car watching meChristian is leaning against the car watching mecarefully, his expression impossible to read.“How’s your friend?” he asks coolly.“He’s well. He’ll pick me up from work, and I thinkwe’ll go for a drink. Would you like to join us?”Christian hesitates, his gray eyes cool. “You don’tthink he’ll try anything?”“No!” My tone is exasperated—but I refrain fromrolling my eyes.“Okay,” Christian holds his hands up in defeat. “Youhang out with your friend, and I’ll see you later in theevening.”I was expecting a fight, and his easy acquiescencethrows me off balance.“See? I can be reasonable.” He smirks.My mouth twists. We’ll see about that.“Can I drive?”Christian blinks at me, surprised by my request.“I’d rather you didn’t.”“Why, exactly?”“Because I don’t like to be driven.”“You managed this morning, and you seem to tolerateTaylor driving you.”“I trust Taylor’s driving implicitly.”“And not mine?” I put my hands on my hips. “Honestly—your control freakery knows no bounds. I’ve beendriving since I was fifteen.”He shrugs in response, as if this is of no consequencewhatsoever. Oh—he’s so exasperating! Benefit of thedoub一t? Well, screw that.“Is this my car?” I demand.He frowns at me. “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 ha一ving all thefun.” I am in full-on pout mode. Christian’s lips twitch witha repressed smile.“But you don’t know where we’re going.”“I’m sure you can enlighten me, Mr. Grey. You’vedone a great job of it so far.”He gazes at me stunned then smiles, his new shy smilethat totally disarms me and takes my breath away.“Great job, eh?” he murmurs.I blush. “Mostly, yes.”“Well, in that case.” He hands me the keys, walksround to the driver’s door, and opens it for me.“Left here,” Christian orders, and we head north towardthe I-5. “Hell—gently, Ana.” He grabs hold of thedashboard.Oh, for hea一ven’s sake. I roll my eyes, but don’t turn tolook at him. Van Morrison croons in the background overthe car sound system.“Slow down!”“I am slowing down!”Christian sighs. “What did Flynn say?” I hear hisanxiety leaching into his voice.“I told you. He says I should give you the benefit of thedoub一t.” Damn—maybe I should ha一ve let Christian drive.Then I could watch him. In fact . . . I signal to pull over.“What are you doing?” he snaps, alarmed.“Letting you drive.”“Why?”“So I can look at you.”He laughs. “No, no—you wanted to drive. So, youdrive, and I’ll look at you.”I scowl at him. “Keep your eyes on the road!” heshouts.My blood boils. Right! I pull over to the curb justbefore a stoplight and storm out of the car, slamming thedoor, and stand on the sidewalk, arms folded, I glare athim. He climbs out of the car.“What are you doing?” he asks angrily, staring down atme.“No. What are you doing?”“You can’t park here.”“I know that.”“So why ha一ve you?”“Because I’ve had it with you barking orders. Eitheryou drive or you shut up about my driving!”“Anastasia, get back in the car before we get a ticket.”“No.”He blinks at me, at a total loss, then runs his handsthrough his hair, and his anger becomes bewilderment. Helooks so comical all of a sudden, and I can’t help but smileat him. He frowns.“What?” he snaps once more.“What?” he snaps once more.“You.”“Oh, Anastasia! You are the most frustrating female onthe planet.” He throws his hands in the air. “Fine—I’lldrive.” I grab the edges of his jacket and pull him to me.“No—you are the most frustrating man on the planet,Mr. Grey.”He gazes down at me, his eyes dark and intense, hesnakes his arms around my waist and embraces me,holding me close.“Maybe we’re meant for each other, then,” he sayssoftly and inhales deeply, his nose in my hair. I wrap myarms around him and close my eyes. For the first timesince this morning, I feel myself relax.“Oh . . . Ana, Ana, Ana,” he breathes, his lips pressedagainst my hair. I tighten my arms around him, and westand, immobile, enjoying a moment of unexpectedtranquility, on the street. Releasing me, he opens thepassenger door. I climb in and sit quietly, watching himwalk around the car.Restarting the car, Christian pulls out into the traffic,absentmindedly humming along to Van Morrison.Whoa. I’ve never heard him sing, not even in theshower, ever. I frown. He has a lovely voice—of course.Hmm . . . has he heard me sing?He wouldn’t be asking you to marry him if he had!My subconscious has her arms crossed and is wearingBurberry check . . . jeez. The song finishes and Christiansmirks.“You know, if we had gotten a ticket, the title of this“You know, if we had gotten a ticket, the title of thiscar is in your name.”“Well, good thing I’ve been promoted—I can affordthe fine,” I say smugly, staring at his lovely profile. His lipstwitch. Another Van Morrison song starts playing as hetakes the on-ramp to I-5, heading north.“Where are we going?”“It’s a surprise. What else did Flynn say?”I sigh. “He talked about FFFSTB or something.”“SFB一T. The latest therapy option,” he mutters.“You’ve tried others?”Christian snorts. “Baby, I’ve been subjected to themall. Cognitivism, Freud, functionalism, Gestalt,beha一viorism . . . You name it, over the years I’ve done it,”he says and his tone betrays his bitterness. The rancor inhis voice is distressing.“Do you think this latest approach will help?”“What did Flynn say?”“He said not to dwell on your past. Focus on the future—on where you want to be.”Christian nods but shrugs at the same time, hisexpression cautious.“What else?” he persists.“He talked about your fear of being touched, althoughhe called it something else. And about your nightmares andyour self-abhorrence.” I glance at him, and in the eveninglight, he’s pensive, chewing on his thumbnail as he drives.He glances quickly at me.“Eyes on the road, Mr. Grey,” I admonish, myeyebrow cocked at him.eyebrow cocked at him.He looks amused, and slightly exasperated. “You weretalking forever, Anastasia. What else did he say?”I swallow. “He doesn’t think you’re a sadist,” Iwhisper.“Really?” Christian says quietly and frowns. Theatmosphere in the car takes a nosedive.“He says that term’s not recognized in psychiatry. Notsince the nineties,” I mutter, quickly trying to rescue themood between us.Christian’s face darkens, and he exhales slowly.“Flynn and I ha一ve differing opinions on this,” he saysquietly.“He said you always think the worst of yourself. Iknow that’s true,” I murmur. “He also mentioned sexualsadism—but he said that was a lifestyle choice, not apsychiatric condition. Maybe that’s what you’re thinkingabout.”His gray eyes flash toward me again, and his mouthsets in a grim line.“So—one talk with the good doctor and you’re anexpert,” he says acidly and turns his eyes front.Oh dear . . . I sigh.“Look—if you don’t want to hear what he said, don’task me,” I mutter softly.I don’t want to argue. Anyway he’s right—what thehell do I know about all his shit? Do I even want to know?I can list the salient points—his control freakery, hispossessiveness, his jealousy, his overprotectiveness—andI completely understand where he’s coming from. I canI completely understand where he’s coming from. I caneven understand why he doesn’t like to be touched—I’veseen the physical scars. I can only imagine the mental ones,and I’ve only glimpsed his nightmares once. And Dr. Flynnsaid—“I want to know what you discussed.” Christianinterrupts my thoughts as he heads off I-5 on exit 172,heading west toward the slowly sinking sun.“He called me your lover.”“Did he now?” His tone is conciliatory. “Well, he’snothing if not fastidious about his terms. I think that’s anaccurate description. Don’t you?”“Did you think of your subs as lovers?”Christian’s brow creases once more, but this time he’sthinking. He turns the Saab smoothly north once again.Where are we going?“No. They were sexual partners,” he murmurs, hisvoice cautious again. “You’re my only lover. And I wantyou to be more.”Oh . . . there’s that magical word again, brimming withpossibility. It makes me smile, and inside I hug myself, myinner goddess radiating joy.“I know,” I whisper, trying hard to hide my excitement.“I just need some time, Christian. To get my head aroundthese last few days.” He glances at me oddly, perplexed,his head inclined to one side.After a beat, the stoplight we’re stationed at turnsgreen. He nods and turns the music up, and our discussionis over.Van Morrison is still singing—more optimistically nowVan Morrison is still singing—more optimistically now—about it being a marvelous night for moondancing. Igaze out the windows at the pines and spruce dusted goldby the fading light of the sun, their long shadows stretchingacross the road. Christian has turned into a moreresidential street, and we’re heading west toward theSound.“Where are we going?” I ask again as we turn into aroad. I catch a road sign—9TH A一VE NW. I am baffled.“Surprise,” he says and smiles mysteriously.Christian continues to drive past single-story, well-kept,clapboard houses where kids play either clustered aroundtheir basketball hoops in their yards or cycling and runningaround in the street. It all looks affluent and wholesomewith the houses nestling among the trees. Perhaps we’regoing to visit someone? Who?A few minutes later, Christian turns sharply left, and we’reconfronted by two ornate white metal gates set in a sixfoot-high, sandstone wall. Christian presses a button on hisdoor handle and the electric window hums quietly downinto the doorframe. He punches a number into the keypadand the gates swing open in welcome.He glances at me, and his expression has changed. Helooks uncertain, nervous even.“What is it?” I ask, and I can’t mask the concern in myvoice.“An idea,” he says quietly and eases the Saab throughthe gates.We head up a tree-lined lane just wide enough for twoWe head up a tree-lined lane just wide enough for twocars. On one side, the trees ring a densely wooded area,and on the other there’s a vast area of grassland where aonce-cultivated field has been left fallow. Grasses andwildflowers ha一ve reclaimed it, creating a rural idyll—ameadow, where the late evening breeze softly ripplesthrough the grass and the evening sun gilds the wildflowers.It’s lovely—utterly tranquil, and suddenly I imagine myselflying in the grass and gazing up at a clear blue summer sky.The thought is tantalizing yet makes me feel homesick forsome strange reason. How odd.The lane curves around and opens into a sweepingdriveway in front of an impressive Mediterranean-stylehouse of soft pink sandstone. It’s palatial. All the lights areon, each window brightly illuminated in the dusk. There’s asmart, black BMW parked in front of the four-car garage,but Christian pulls up outside the grand portico.Hmm . . . I wonder who lives here? Why are wevisiting?Christian glances anxiously at me as he switches off thecar engine.“Will you keep an open mind?” he asks.I frown.“Christian, I’ve needed an open mind since the day Imet you.”He smiles ironically and nods. “Fair point well made,Miss Steele. Let’s go.”The dark wood doors open, and a woman with darkbrown hair, a sincere smile, and a sharp lilac suit standswaiting. I’m grateful I changed into my new na一vy shiftwaiting. I’m grateful I changed into my new na一vy shiftdress to impress Dr. Flynn. Okay, I’m not wearing killerheels like her—but still, I’m not in jeans.“Mr. Grey.” She smiles warmly and they shake hands.“Miss Kelly,” he says politely.She smiles at me and holds out her hand, which Ishake. Her isn’t-he-dreamily-gorgeous-wish-he-was-mineflush does not go unnoticed.“Olga Kelly,” she announces breezily.“Ana Steele,” I mutter back at her. Who is thiswoman? She stands aside, welcoming us into the house.It’s a shock when I step in. The place is empty—completely empty. We find ourselves in a large entrancehall. The walls are a faded primrose yellow withscuffmarks where pictures must once ha一ve hung. All thatremains are the old-fashioned crystal light fixtures. Thefloors are dull hardwood. There are closed doors to eitherside of us, but Christian gives me no time to assimilatewhat’s happening.“Come,” he says, and taking my hand, he leads methrough the archway in front of us into a larger innervestibule. It’s dominated by a curved, sweeping staircasewith an intricate iron balustrade but still he doesn’t stop.He takes me through to the main living area, which isempty, sa一ve for a large faded gold rug—the biggest rug Iha一ve ever seen. Oh—and there are four crystalchandeliers.But Christian’s intention is now clear as we headacross the room and outside through open French doorsto a large stone terrace. Below us there’s half a footballto a large stone terrace. Below us there’s half a footballfield of manicured lawn, but beyond that is the view. Wow.The panoramic, uninterrupted vista is breathtaking—staggering even: twilight over the Sound. Oh my.In the distance lies Bainbridge Island, and further stillon this crystal clear evening, the setting sun sinks slowly,glowing blood and flame orange, beyond OlympicNational Park. Vermillion hues bleed into the sky—opals,aquamarines, ceruleans—melding with the darker purplesof the scant wispy clouds and the land beyond the Sound.It is nature’s best, a visual symphony orchestrated in thesky and reflected in the deep, still waters of the Sound. Iam lost to the view—staring, trying to absorb suchbeauty.I realize I’m holding my breath in awe, and Christian isstill holding my hand. As I reluctantly turn my eyes awayfrom the view, he’s gazing anxiously at me.“You brought me here to admire the view?” I whisper.He nods, his expression serious.“It’s staggering, Christian. Thank you,” I murmur,letting my eyes feast on it once more. He releases myhand.“How would you like to look at it for the rest of yourlife?” he breathes.What? I whip my face back to his, startled blue eyesto pensive gray. I think my mouth drops open, and I gapeat him blankly.“I’ve always wanted to live on the coast. I sail up anddown the Sound coveting these houses. This place hasn’tbeen on the market long. I want to buy it, demolish it, andbeen on the market long. I want to buy it, demolish it, andbuild a new house—for us,” he whispers, and his eyesglow, translucent with his hopes and dreams.Holy cow. Somehow I remain upright. I’m reeling.Live, here! In this beautiful ha一ven! For the rest of mylife . . .“It’s just an idea,” he adds, cautiously.I glance back to assess the interior of the house. Howmuch is it worth? It must be, what—five, ten milliondollars? I ha一ve no idea. Holy shit.“Why do you want to demolish it?” I ask, looking backat him. His face falls slightly. Oh no.“I’d like to make a more sustainable home, using thelatest ecological techniques. Elliot could build it.”I gaze back at the room again. Miss Olga Kelly is onthe far side, hovering by the entrance. She’s the realtor, ofcourse. I notice the room is huge and double height, a littlelike the great room at Escala. There’s a balcony above—that must be the landing on the second floor. There’s ahuge fireplace and a whole line of French doors openingonto the terrace. It has an old-world charm.“Can we look around the house?”He blinks at me. “Sure,” he shrugs, puzzled.Miss Kelly’s face lights up like Christmas when wehead back in. She’s delighted to take us on a tour andgives us the spiel.The house is enormous: twelve thousand square feet onsix acres of land. As well as this main living room, there’sthe eat-in—no, banquet-in—kitchen with family roomattached—Family!—a music room, a library, a study and,attached—Family!—a music room, a library, a study and,much to my amazement, an indoor pool and exercise suitewith sauna and steam room attached. Downstairs in thebasement there’s a cinema—Jeez—and game room.Hmm . . . what sort of games could we play in here?Miss Kelly points out all sorts of features, but basicallythe house is beautiful and was obviously at one time ahappy family home. It’s a little shabby now, but nothingthat some TLC couldn’t cure.As we follow Miss Kelly up the magnificent main stairsto the second floor, I can hardly contain my excitement . . .this house has everything I could ever wish for in a home.“Couldn’t you make the existing house more ecologicaland self-sustaining?”Christian blinks at me, nonplussed. “I’d ha一ve to askElliot. He’s the expert in all this.”