Текст книги "Grey"
Автор книги: Erika Leonard James
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 30 страниц) [доступный отрывок для чтения: 13 страниц]
What the hell is that?
“That’s what you drive?” This must be older than Grandpa Theodore. Jesus! The valet hands over the keys and I tip him generously. He deserves danger pay.
“Is this roadworthy?” I glare at Ana. How can she be safe in this rust bucket?
“Yes.”
“Will it make it to Seattle?”
“Yes. She will.”
“Safely?”
“Yes.” She tries to reassure me. “Okay, she’s old. But she’s mine, and she’s roadworthy. My stepdad bought it for me.”
When I suggest that we could do better than this she realizes what I’m offering and her expression changes immediately.
She’s mad.
“You are not buying me a car,” she says emphatically.
“We’ll see,” I mutter, trying to keep calm. I hold open the driver’s door, and as she climbs in I wonder if I should ask Taylor to take her home. Damn. I remember that he’s off this evening.
Once I’ve shut the door, she rolls down the window…painfully slowly.
For Christ’s sake!
“Drive safely,” I growl.
“Good-bye, Christian,” she says, and her voice falters, as if she’s trying not to cry.
Shit. My whole mood shifts from irritation and concern for her well-being to helplessness as her car roars off up the street.
I don’t know if I’ll see her again.
I stand like a fool on the sidewalk until her rear lights disappear into the night.
Fuck. Why did that go so wrong?
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.
“Thank you,” I mutter, derailed. How can she not have checked her phone or e-mail?
“Explains your food issues to me,” she says, her tone gentle—and if I’m not mistaken, pitying, too.
“Anastasia, I don’t want to go there at the moment.”
I don’t need your pity.
I close my eyes. All this time I thought she didn’t want to talk to me. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Worried, why?”
“Because you went home in that deathtrap you call a car.”
And I thought I’d blown the deal between us.
Ana bristles. “What? It’s not a deathtrap. It’s fine. José regularly services it for me.”
“José, the photographer?” This just gets better and fucking better.
“Yes, the Beetle used to belong to his mother.”
“Yes, and probably her mother and her mother before her. It’s not safe.” I’m almost shouting.
“I’ve been driving it for over three years. I’m sorry you were worried. Why didn’t you call?”
I called her cell phone. Does she not use her damned cell phone? Is she talking about the house phone? Running my hand through my hair in exasperation, I take a deep breath. This is not addressing the fucking elephant in the room.
“Anastasia, I need an answer from you. This waiting around is driving me crazy.”
Her face falls.
Shit.
“Christian, I…look, I’ve left my stepdad on his own.”
“Tomorrow. I want an answer by tomorrow.”
“Okay. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you then,” she says with an anxious look.
Well, it’s still not a “no.” And once more, I’m surprised by my relief.
What the hell is it about this woman? She stares up at me with sincere blue eyes, her face etched in concern, and I resist the urge to touch her. “Are you staying for drinks?” I ask.
“I don’t know what Ray wants to do.” She looks uncertain.
“Your stepfather? I’d like to meet him.”
Her uncertainty magnifies. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she says darkly, as I unlock the door.
What? Why? Is this because she now knows I was dirt-poor as a kid? Or because she knows how I like to fuck? That I’m a freak?
“Are you ashamed of me?”
“No!” she exclaims, and she rolls her eyes in frustration. “Introduce you to my dad as what?” She raises her hands in exasperation. “ ‘This is the man who deflowered me and wants us to start a BDSM relationship’? You’re not wearing running shoes.”
Running shoes?
Her dad is going to come after me? And just like that she has injected a little humor between us. My mouth twitches in response and she returns my smile, her face lighting up like a summer dawn.
“Just so you know, I can run quite fast,” I respond playfully. “Just tell him I’m your friend, Anastasia.” I open the door and follow her out but stop when I reach the chancellor and his colleagues. As one they turn and stare at Miss Steele, but she’s disappearing into the auditorium. They turn back to me.
Miss Steele and I are none of your business, people.
I give the chancellor a brief, polite nod and he asks if I’ll come and meet more of his colleagues and enjoy some canapés.
“Sure,” I reply.
It takes me thirty minutes to escape from the faculty gathering, and as I make my way out of the crowded reception Kavanagh falls into step beside me. We head to the lawn where the graduates and their families are enjoying a post-graduation drink in a large tented pavilion.
“So have you asked Ana to dinner on Sunday?” she asks.
Sunday? Has Ana mentioned that we’re seeing each other on Sunday?
“At your parents’ house,” Kavanagh explains.
My parents?
I spot Ana.
What the fuck?
A tall blond guy who looks as if he’s walked off a beach in California has his hands all over her.
Who the hell is that? Is this why she didn’t want me to come for a drink?
Ana looks up, catches my expression, and pales as her roommate stands beside that guy. “Hello, Ray,” Kavanagh says, and she kisses a middle-aged man in an ill-fitting suit standing beside Ana.
This must be Raymond Steele.
“Have you met Ana’s boyfriend?” Kavanagh asks him. “Christian Grey.”
Boyfriend!
“Mr. Steele, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Mr. Grey,” he says, quietly surprised. We shake hands; his grip is firm, and his fingers and palm are rough to the touch. This man works with his hands. Then I remember—he’s a carpenter. His dark brown eyes give nothing away.
“And this is my brother, Ethan Kavanagh,” says Kate, introducing the beach bum who has his arm wrapped around Ana.
Ah. The Kavanagh offspring, together.
I mutter his name as we shake hands, noting that they are soft, unlike Ray Steele’s.
Now stop pawing my girl, you fucker.
“Ana, baby,” I whisper, holding out my hand, and like the good woman she is, she steps into my embrace. She’s discarded her graduation robe and wears a pale gray halter-neck dress, exposing her flawless shoulders and back.
Two dresses in two days. She’s spoiling me.
“Ethan, Mom and Dad wanted a word.” Kavanagh hauls her brother away, leaving me with Ana and her father.
“So how long have you kids known each other?” Mr. Steele asks.
As I reach across to grasp Ana’s shoulder I gently trace my thumb across her naked back and she trembles in response. I tell him we’ve known each other for a couple of weeks. “We met when Anastasia came to interview me for the student newspaper.”
“Didn’t know you worked on the student newspaper, Ana,” Mr. Steele says.
“Kate was ill,” she says.
Ray Steele eyes his daughter and frowns. “Fine speech you gave, Mr. Grey,” he says.
“Thank you, sir. I understand that you’re a keen fisherman.”
“Indeed I am. Annie tell you that?”
“She did.”
“You fish?” There’s a spark of curiosity in his brown eyes.
“Not as much as I’d like to. My dad used to take my brother and me when we were kids. For him it was all about the steelheads. Guess I caught the bug from him.” Ana listens for a moment, then excuses herself and moves off through the crowd to join the Kavanagh clan.
Damn, she looks sensational in that dress.
“Oh? Where d’you fish?” Ray Steele’s question pulls me back into the conversation. I know it’s a test.
“All over the Pacific Northwest.”
“You grew up in Washington?”
“Yes, sir. My dad started us on the Wynoochee River.”
A smile tugs at Steele’s mouth. “Know it well.”
“But his favorite is the Skagit. The U.S. side. He’d get us out of bed at some ungodly hour of the morning and we’d drive up there. He’s caught some mighty fine fish in that river.”
“That’s some sweet water. Caught me some rod breakers in the Skagit. On the Canadian side, mind.”
“It’s one of the best stretches for wild steelheads. Give you a much better chase than those that are clipped,” I say, my eyes on Ana.
“Couldn’t agree more.”
“My brother’s caught a couple of wild monsters. Me, I’m still waiting for the big one.”
“One day, huh?”
“I hope so.”
Ana is deep in a passionate discussion with Kavanagh. What are those two women talking about?
“You still get out much to fish?” I refocus on Mr. Steele.
“Sure do. Annie’s friend José, his father, and I sneak out as often as we can.”
The fucking photographer! Again?
“He’s the guy that looks after the Beetle?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“Great car, the Beetle. I’m a fan of German-made cars.”
“Yeah? Annie loves that old car, but I guess it’s getting past its sell-by date.”
“Funny you should mention that. I was thinking of loaning her one of my company cars. Do you think she’d go for it?”
“I guess. That would be up to Annie, mind.”
“Great. I take it Ana’s not into fishing.”
“No. That girl takes after her mother. She couldn’t stomach seeing the fish suffer. Or the worms, for that matter. She’s a gentle soul.” He gives me a pointed look. Oh. A warning from Raymond Steele. I turn it into a joke.
“No wonder she wasn’t keen on the cod we ate the other day.”
Steele chuckles. “She’s fine with eating them.”
Ana has finished talking to the Kavanaghs and is heading our way. “Hi,” she says, beaming at us.
“Annie, where are the restrooms?” Steele asks.
She directs him to go outside the pavilion and to the left.
“See you in a moment. You kids enjoy yourselves,” he says.
She watches him go, then peers nervously up at me. But before she or I can say anything we’re interrupted by a photographer. She snaps a quick still of us together before hurrying away.
“So you’ve charmed my father as well?” Ana says, her voice sweet and teasing.
“As well?” Have I charmed you, Miss Steele?
With my fingers I trace the rosy flush that appears on her cheek. “Oh, I wish I knew what you were thinking, Anastasia.” When my fingers reach her chin I tilt her head back so I can scrutinize her expression. She stills and stares back at me, her pupils darkening.
“Right now,” she whispers, “I’m thinking, nice tie.”
I was expecting some kind of declaration; her response makes me laugh. “It’s recently become my favorite.”
She smiles.
“You look lovely, Anastasia. This halter-neck dress suits you, and I get to stroke your back, feel your beautiful skin.”
Her lips part and her breath hitches, and I can feel the pull of the attraction between us.
“You know it’s going to be good, don’t you, baby?” My voice is low, betraying my longing.
She closes her eyes, swallows, and takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, she’s radiating anxiety. “But I want more,” she says.
“More?”
Fuck. What is this?
She nods.
“More?” I whisper again. Her lip is pliant beneath my thumb. “You want hearts and flowers.” Fuck. It will never work with her. How can it? I don’t do romance. My hopes and dreams begin to crumble between us.
Her eyes are wide, innocent, and beseeching.
Damn. She’s so beguiling. “Anastasia. It’s not something I know.”
“Me, neither.”
Of course; she’s never had a relationship before. “You don’t know much.”
“You know all the wrong things,” she breathes.
“Wrong? Not to me. Try it,” I plead.
Please. Try it my way.
Her gaze is intense as she searches my face, looking for clues. And for a moment I’m lost in blue eyes that see everything.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“What?” Every hair on my body stands to attention.
“Okay. I’ll try.”
“You’re agreeing?” I don’t believe it.
“Subject to the soft limits, yes. I’ll try.”
Sweet. Lord. I pull her into my arms and wrap her in my embrace, burying my face in her hair, inhaling her seductive scent. And I don’t care that we’re in a crowded space. It’s just her and me. “Jesus, Ana, you’re so unexpected. You take my breath away.”
A moment later I’m aware that Raymond Steele has returned and is examining his watch to cover his embarrassment. Reluctantly, I release her. I’m on top of the world.
Deal done, Grey!
“Annie, should we get some lunch?” Steele asks.
“Okay,” she says with a shy smile directed at me.
“Would you like to join us, Christian?” For a moment I’m tempted, but Ana’s anxious glance in my direction says, Please, no. She wants alone time with her dad. I get it.
“Thank you, Mr. Steele, but I have plans. It’s been great to meet you, sir.”
Try and control your stupid grin, Grey.
“Likewise,” Steele replies—sincerely, I think. “Look after my baby girl.”
“Oh, I fully intend to,” I respond, shaking his hand.
In ways that you can’t possibly imagine, Mr. Steele.
I take Ana’s hand and bring her knuckles to my lips. “Later, Miss Steele,” I murmur. You’ve made me a happy, happy man.
Steele gives me a brief nod, and taking his daughter’s elbow, leads her out of the reception. I stand dazed but brimming with hope.
She’s agreed.
“Christian Grey?” My joy is interrupted by Eamon Kavanagh, Katherine’s father.
“Eamon, how are you?” We shake hands.
TAYLOR COLLECTS ME AT 3:30. “Good afternoon, sir,” he says, opening my car door.
En route he informs me that the Audi A3 has been delivered to The Heathman. Now I just have to give it to Ana. No doubt this will involve a discussion, and deep down I know it will be more than just a discussion. Then again, she’s agreed to be my submissive, so maybe she’ll accept my gift without any fuss.
Who are you kidding, Grey?
A man can dream. I hope we can meet this evening; I’ll give it to her as her graduation present.
I call Andrea and tell her to put a WebEx breakfast meeting into my schedule tomorrow with Eamon Kavanagh and his associates in New York. Kavanagh is interested in upgrading his fiber-optic network. I ask Andrea to have Ros and Fred on standby for the meeting, too. She relays some messages—nothing important—and reminds me I have to attend a charity function tomorrow evening in Seattle.
Tonight will be my last night in Portland. It’s almost Ana’s last night here, too…I contemplate calling her, but there’s little point since she doesn’t have her cell phone. And she’s enjoying time with her dad.
Staring out the car window as we drive toward The Heathman, I watch the good people of Portland go about their afternoon. At a stoplight there’s a young couple arguing on the sidewalk over a spilled bag of groceries. Another couple, even younger, walks hand in hand past them, eyes locked and giggling. The girl leans up and whispers something in the ear of her tattooed beau. He laughs, leans down, and kisses her quickly, then opens the door to a coffee shop and steps aside to let her enter.
Ana wants “more.” I sigh heavily and plow my fingers through my hair. They always want more. All of them. What can I do about that? The hand-in-hand couple strolling to the coffee shop—Ana and I did that. We’ve eaten together at two restaurants, and it was…fun. Perhaps I could try. After all, she’s giving me so much. I loosen my tie.
Could I do more?
BACK IN MY ROOM, I strip down, pull on my sweats, and head downstairs for a quick circuit in the gym. Enforced socializing has stretched the limits of my patience and I need to work off some excess energy.
And I need to think about more.
ONCE I’M SHOWERED AND dressed and back in front of my laptop, Ros calls via WebEx to check in and we talk for forty minutes. We cover all of the items on her agenda, including the Taiwan proposal and Darfur. The cost of the airdrop is staggering, but it’s safer for all involved. I give her the go-ahead. Now we have to wait for the shipment to arrive in Rotterdam.
“I’m up to date on Kavanagh Media. I think Barney should be in on the meeting, too,” Ros says.
