Текст книги "Fifty shades darker"

Автор книги: Erika Leonard James

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

turn me on with just a look and the flex of a ruler. He slips it into the back pocket of his

jeans and ambles toward me, eyes dark and full of promise. Without saying a word, he

drops to his knees in front of me and starts to undo my laces, quickly and efficiently, drag-

ging both my Converse and socks off. I lean on the side of the billiard table so I don’t fall.

Gazing down at him as he undoes my laces, I marvel at the depth of feeling that I have for

this beautiful flawed man. I love him.

He grabs my hips, slips his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, and undoes the

button and zipper. He peers up through his long lashes, grinning his most salacious grin as

he slowly peels my jeans off. I step out of them, glad that I’m wearing these pretty, pretty

panties, and he grasps the back of my legs and runs his nose along the apex of my thighs.

I practically melt.

“I want to be quite rough with you, Ana. You’ll have to tell me to stop if it’s too much,”

he breathes.

Oh my.He kisses me . . . there. I moan softly.

“Safe word?” I murmur.

“No, no safe word, just tell me to stop, and I’ll stop. Understand?” He kisses me again,

nuzzling me. Oh, that feels good.He stands, his stare intense. “Answer me,” he orders his

voice velvet soft.

“Yes, yes, I understand.” I’m puzzled by his insistence.

“You’ve been dropping hints and giving me mixed signals all day, Anastasia,” he says.

“You said you were worried I’d lost my edge. I’m not sure what you meant by that, and I

don’t know how serious you were, but we are going to find out. I don’t want to go back into

the playroom yet, so we can try this now, but if you don’t like it, you must promise to tell

me.” A burning intensity born of his anxiety replaces his earlier cockiness.

Whoa, please don’t be anxious, Christian.“I’ll tell you. No safe word,” I reiterate to

reassure him.

“We’re lovers, Anastasia. Lovers don’t need safe words.” He frowns. “Do they?”

“I guess not,” I murmur. Jeez—how do I know?“I promise.”

He searches my face for any clue that I might lack the courage of my convictions, and

I’m nervous but excited, too. I’m much happier to do this, knowing that he loves me. It’s

very simple to me, and right now, I don’t want to overthink it.

A slow smile stretches across his face, and he starts to unbutton my shirt, his deft fin-

gers making short work of it, though he doesn’t take it off. He leans over and picks up the

cue. Oh fuck, what’s he going to do with that?A frisson of fear runs through me.

“You play well, Miss Steele. I must say I’m surprised. Why don’t you sink the black?”

My fear forgotten, I pout, wondering why the hell he should be surprised—sexy, ar-

rogant bastard. My inner goddess is limbering up in the background, doing her floor exer-

cises—a great fat smile on her face.

I position the white ball. Christian strolls back around the table and stands right behind

me as I lean over to take my shot. He places his hand on my right thigh and runs his fingers

up and down my leg, up to my behind and back again, lightly stroking me.

“I am going to miss if you keep doing that,” I whisper, closing my eyes and relishing

the feel of his hands on me.

“I don’t care if you hit or miss, baby. I just wanted to see you like this—partially

dressed, stretched out on my billiard table. Do you have any idea how hot you look at the

moment?”

I flush, and my inner goddess grabs a rose between her teeth and starts to tango. Tak-

ing a deep breath, I try to ignore him and line up my shot. It’s impossible. He caresses my

behind, over and over again.

“Top left,” I murmur, then hit the white ball. He smacks me hard, squarely on my

backside.

It’s so unexpected, I yelp. The white hits the black, which bounces off the cushion wide

of the pocket. Christian caresses my behind again.

“Oh, I think you need to try that again,” he whispers. “You should concentrate, Anas-

tasia.”

I am panting now, excited by this game. He strolls to the end of the table, sets up the

black ball again, then runs the white ball back down to me. He looks so carnal, dark eyed

with a lascivious smile. How could I ever resist this man? I catch the ball and line it up,

ready to strike again.

“Uh-uh,” he admonishes. “Just wait.” Oh, he just loves prolonging the agony. He wan-

ders back and stands behind me again. I close my eyes once more as he strokes my left

thigh this time then fondles my backside again.

“Take aim,” he breathes.

I can’t help my moan as desire twists and turns inside me. And I try, really try, to think

about where I should hit the black with the white. I shift slightly to my right, and he follows

me. I bend over the table once more. Using every last vestige of inner strength—which has

diminished considerably since I know what will happen once I strike the white ball—I take

aim and hit the white again. Christian smacks me once more, hard.

Ow!I miss again. “Oh no! ”I groan.

“Once more, baby. And if you miss this time, I’m really going to let you have it.”

What? Have what?

He sets up the black ball once more and walks, achingly slow, back to me until he’s

standing behind me, caressing my backside once more.

“You can do it,” he coaxes.

Oh—not when you’re distracting me like this.I push my behind back against his hand,

and he smacks me lightly.

“Eager, Miss Steele?” he murmurs.

Yes. I want you.

“Well, let’s get rid of these.” He gently slides my panties down my thighs and off. I

can’t see what he does with them, but he leaves me feeling exposed as he plants a soft kiss

on each cheek.

“Take the shot, baby.”

I want to whimper, this is so not going to happen. I know I am going to miss. I line up

the white, hit it, and in my impatience, miss the black completely. I wait for the blow—but

it doesn’t come. Instead he leans right over me, flattening me against the table, takes the cue

out of my hand and rolls it to the side cushion. I can feel him, hard, against my backside.

“You missed,” he says softly in my ear. My cheek is pressed against the baize. “Put

your hands flat on the table.”

I do as he says.

“Good. I’m going to spank you now and next time, maybe you won’t.” He shifts so

he’s standing to my left side, his erection against my hip.

I groan and my heart leaps into my mouth. My breath comes in short pants and a hot,

heavy excitement courses through my veins. Gently, he caresses my behind and curls his

other hand around the nape of my neck, his fingers fisting in my hair, his elbow at my back,

holding me down. I am completely helpless.

“Open your legs,” he murmurs and for a moment, I hesitate. And he smacks me hard—

with the ruler! The noise is harsher than the sting, and it takes me by surprise. I gasp, and

he hits me again.

“Legs,” he orders. I open my legs, panting. The ruler strikes again. Ow—it stings, but

its crack across my skin sounds worse than it feels.

I close my eyes and absorb the pain. It’s not too bad, and Christian’s breathing becomes

harsher. He hits me again and again, and I moan. I am not sure how many more strokes I

can bear—but hearing him, knowing how turned on he is, feeds my arousal and my will-

ingness to continue. I am crossing to the dark side, a place in my psyche I don’t know well

but have visited before in the playroom—with the Tallis. The ruler strikes once more, and I

moan loudly, and Christian groans in response. He hits me again—and again . . . and once

more . . . harder this time—and I wince.

“Stop.” The word is out of my mouth before I’m even aware that I’ve said it. Christian

drops the ruler immediately and releases me.

“Enough?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

“I want to fuck you now,” he says, his voice strained.

“Yes,” I murmur with longing. He undoes his fly, as I lie panting on the table, knowing

that he’s going to be rough.

I marvel once more at how I have managed—and yes, enjoyed– what he’s done to me

up to this point. It’s so dark but so him.

He eases two fingers inside me and moves them in a circular motion. The feeling is

exquisite. Closing my eyes, I revel in the sensation. I hear the telltale rip of foil, then he’s

standing behind me, between my legs, pushing them wider.

Slowly he sinks into me, filling me. I hear his groan of pure pleasure, and it stirs my

soul. He grasps my hips firmly, eases out of me again, and this time slams back into me,

causing me to cry out. He stills for a moment.

“Again?” he asks softly.

“Yes . . . I’m fine. Lose yourself . . . take me with you,” I murmur breathlessly.

He moans low in his throat, eases out of me once more, then slams into me, and repeats

this over and over slowly, deliberately—a punishing, brutal, heavenly rhythm.

Oh fucking my . . .My insides begin to quicken. He feels it, too, and increases the

rhythm, pushing me, higher, harder, faster—and I surrender, exploding around him—a

draining, soul-grabbing orgasm that leaves me spent and exhausted.

I’m vaguely aware that Christian, too, is letting go, calling my name, his fingers dig-

ging into my hips, and then he stills and collapses on me. We sink to the floor, and he

cradles me in his arms.

“Thank you, baby,” he breathes, covering my upturned face in soft feather-light kisses.

I open my eyes and gaze up at him, and he wraps his arms tighter around me.

“Your cheek is pink from the baize,” he murmurs, rubbing my face tenderly. “How was

that?” His eyes are wide and cautious.

“Teeth-clenchingly good,” I mutter. “I like it rough, Christian, and I like it gentle, too.

I like that it’s with you.”

He closes his eyes and hugs me even tighter.

Jeez, I’m tired.

“You never fail, Ana. You are beautiful, bright, challenging, fun, sexy, and I thank

divine providence every day that it was you that came to interview me and not Katherine

Kavanagh.” He kisses my hair. I smile and yawn against his chest. “I’m wearing you out,”

he continues. “Come. Bath, then bed.”

We are both in Christian’s bath, facing each other chin-deep in foam, the sweet scent of

jasmine enveloping us. Christian is massaging my feet, one at a time. It feels so good it

should be illegal.

“Can I ask you something?” I murmur.

“Of course. Anything, Ana, you know that.”

I take a deep breath and sit up, flinching only slightly.

“Tomorrow—when I go to work—can Sawyer just deliver me to the front door of the

office then pick me up at the end of the day? Please, Christian. Please,” I plead.

His hands still as his brow creases. “I thought we agreed,” he grumbles.

“Please,” I beg.

“What about lunchtime?”

“I’ll make myself something to take from here so I don’t have to go out, please.”

He kisses my instep. “I find it very difficult to say no to you,” he mutters as if he senses

this is a failing on his part. “You won’t go out?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

I beam at him. “Thank you.” I lean up onto my knees, sloshing water everywhere, and

kiss him.

“You’re most welcome, Miss Steele. How’s your behind?”

“Sore. But not too bad. The water is soothing.”

“I’m glad you told me to stop,” he says, gazing at me.

“So is my behind.”

He grins.

I stretch out in bed, so tired. It’s only ten thirty, but it feels like three in the morning. This

has to be one of the most exhausting weekends of my life.

“Didn’t Ms. Acton provide any nightwear?” Christian asks, his voice laced with disap-

proval as he stares down at me.

“I have no idea. I like wearing your T-shirts,” I mumble sleepily.

His face softens, and he leans over and kisses my forehead.

“I need to work. But I don’t want to leave you alone. Can I use your laptop to log in to

the office? Will I disturb you if I work from here?”

“S’not my laptop.” I drift.

The alarm clicks on, startling me awake with the traffic news. Christian is still asleep be-

side me. Rubbing my eyes, I glance at the clock. Six thirty—too early.

It’s raining outside for the first time in ages, and the light is muted and mellow. I’m

cozy and comfortable in this vast modern monolith with Christian at my side. I stretch and

turn to the delicious man beside me. His eyes spring open and he blinks sleepily.

“Good morning.” I smile and caress his face, leaning down to kiss him.

“Good morning, baby. I usually wake before the alarm goes off,” he murmurs in won-

der. “It’s set so early.”

“That it is, Miss Steele.” Christian grins. “I have to get up.” He kisses me, and then he’s

up and out of bed. I flop back against the pillows. Wow, waking up on a school day next to

Christian Grey. How did this all happen? I close my eyes and doze.

“Come on, sleepyhead, get up.” Christian leans over me. He’s shaved, clean, fresh—

Hmm, he smells so good—in a crisp white shirt and black suit, no tie—the CEO is back.

Holy Moses, he looks good like this, too.

“What?” he asks.

“I wish you’d come back to bed.”

His lips part, surprised by my come-on, and he smiles almost shyly. “You are insa-

tiable, Miss Steele. As much as that idea appeals, I have an eight thirty meeting, so I have

to go shortly.”

Oh, I’ve slept for another hour or so . Shit.I leap out of bed, much to Christian’s amuse-

ment.

I shower and dress quickly, wearing the clothes I set out yesterday: a fitted, gray pencil

skirt; pale-gray silk shirt; and high-heeled black pumps, all care of my new wardrobe. I

brush my hair and carefully put it up, then wander out to the great room, not really knowing

what to expect. How am I going to get to work?

Christian is sipping coffee at the breakfast bar. Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen making

pancakes and bacon.

“You look lovely,” Christian murmurs. Wrapping an arm around me, he kisses me un-

der my ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mrs. Jones’s smile. I flush.

“Good morning, Miss Steele,” she says as she places pancakes and bacon in front of

me. “Oh, thank you. Good morning,” I mumble. Jeez—I could get used to this.

“Mr. Grey says you’d like to take lunch with you to work. What would you like to eat?”

I glance at Christian, who is trying very hard not to smirk. I narrow my eyes at him.

“A sandwich . . . salad. I really don’t mind.” I beam at Mrs. Jones.

“I’ll rustle up a packed lunch for you, ma’am.”

“Please, Mrs. Jones, call me Ana.”

“Ana.” She smiles and turns to make me tea.

Wow . . . this is so cool.

I turn and cock my head at Christian, challenging him—go on, accuse me of flirting

with Mrs. Jones.

“I have to go, baby. Taylor will come back and drop you at work with Sawyer.”

“Only to the door.”

“Yes. Only to the door.” Christian rolls his eyes. “Be careful, though.”

I glance around and spy Taylor standing in the entranceway. Christian stands and kisses

me, grasping my chin.

“Laters, baby.”

“Have a good day at the office, dear,” I call after him. He turns and flashes me his beau-

tiful smile then he’s gone. Mrs. Jones hands me a cup of tea, and suddenly I feel awkward

with just the two of us here.

“How long have you worked for Christian?” I ask, thinking I ought to make some kind

of conversation.

“Four years or so,” she says pleasantly, as she sets about making my packed lunch.

“You know, I can do that,” I mutter, embarrassed that she should be doing this for me.

“You eat your breakfast, Ana. This is what I do. I enjoy it. It’s nice to look after some-

one other than Mr. Taylor and Mr. Grey.” She smiles very sweetly at me.

My cheeks pink with pleasure, and I want to bombard this woman with questions. She

must know so much about Fifty, and although her manner is warm and friendly, it’s also

very professional. I know I’ll only embarrass both of us if I start quizzing her, so I finish

my breakfast in a reasonably comfortable silence, punctuated only by her questions on my

food preferences for lunch.

Twenty-five minutes later Sawyer appears at the entrance to the great room. I have

brushed my teeth, and I’m waiting to go. Clutching my brown paper lunch bag—I can’t

even remember my mom doing this for me—Sawyer and I head to the first floor via the

elevator. He’s very taciturn, too, giving nothing away. Taylor is waiting in the Audi, and I

climb into the rear passenger seat when Sawyer opens the door.

“Good morning, Taylor,” I say brightly.

“Miss Steele.” He smiles.

“Taylor, I’m sorry about yesterday and my inappropriate remarks. I hope I didn’t get

you into trouble.”

Taylor frowns in bemusement at me from the rearview mirror as he pulls out into the

Seattle traffic.

“Miss Steele, I’m rarely in trouble,” he says reassuringly.

Oh good. Maybe Christian didn’t tell him off. Just me, then,I think sourly.

“I’m glad to hear it, Taylor.” I smile.

Jack gazes at me, assessing my appearance, as I make my way to my desk.

“Morning, Ana. Good weekend?”

“Yes, thanks. You?”

“It was good. Get settled in—I have work for you to do.”

I nod and sit down at my computer. It seems like years since I was at work. I switch

on my computer and fire up my e-mail program—and of course there’s an e-mail from

Christian.

From:Christian Grey

Subject:Boss

Date:June 13, 2011 08:24

To:Anastasia Steele

Good morning, Miss Steele

I just wanted to say thank you for a wonderful weekend in spite of all the drama.

I hope you never leave, ever.

And just to remind you that the news of SIP is embargoed for four weeks.

Delete this e-mail as soon as you’ve read it.

Yours

Christian Grey,

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. & Your boss’s boss’s boss.

Hope I never leave? Does he want me to move in? Holy Moses . . . I barely know the man.

I press delete.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Bossy

Date:June 13, 2011: 09:03

To:Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

Are you asking me to move in with you? And of course, I remembered that the evidence

of your epic stalking capabilities is embargoed for another four weeks. Do I make a check

out to Coping Together and send to your dad? Please don’t delete this e-mail. Please

respond to it.

ILY xxx

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

“Ana!” Jack makes me jump.

“Yes,” I flush, and Jack frowns at me.

“Everything okay?”

“Sure.” I scramble up and take my notebook into his office.

“Good. As you probably remember, I’m going to that Commissioning Fiction Sympo-

sium in New York on Thursday. I have tickets and reservations, but I’d like you to come

with me.”

“To New York?”

“Yes. We’ll need to go Wednesday and stay overnight. I think you’ll find it a very edu-

cational experience.” His eyes darken as he says this, but his smile is polite. “Would you

make the necessary travel arrangements? And book an additional room at the hotel where I

am staying? I think Sabrina, my previous PA, left all the details handy somewhere.”

“Okay.” I smile wanly at Jack.

Crap. I wander back to my desk. This is not going to go down well with Fifty—but the

fact is, I want to go. It sounds like a real opportunity, and I’m sure I can keep Jack at arm’s

length if that’s his ulterior motive. Back at my desk there’s a response from Christian.

From:Christian Grey

Subject:Me, Bossy?

Date:June 13, 2011 09:07

To:Anastasia Steele

Yes. Please.

Christian Grey,

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Jeez . . . he does want me to move in. Oh, Christian—it’s too soon. I put my head in my

hands to try and recover my wits. This is all I need after my extraordinary weekend. I

haven’t had a moment to myself to think through and understand all that I have experienced

and discovered these last two days.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Flynnisms

Date:June 13, 2011: 09:20

To:Christian Grey

Christian

What happened to walking before we run?

Can we talk about this tonight, please?

I’ve been asked to go to a conference in New York on Thursday.

It means an overnight stay on Wednesday.

Just thought you should know.

A x

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From:Christian Grey

Subject:WHAT?

Date:June 13, 2011 09:21

To:Anastasia Steele

Yes. Let’s talk this evening.

Are you going on your own?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:No Bold Shouty Capitals on a Monday Morning!

Date:June 13, 2011: 09:30

To:Christian Grey

Can we talk about this tonight?

A x

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From:Christian Grey

Subject:You Haven’t Seen Shouty Yet.

Date:June 13, 2011 09:35

To:Anastasia Steele

Tell me.

If it’s with the sleazeball you work with, then the answer is no, over my dead body.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

My heart sinks. Shit—it’s like he’s my dad.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:No YOU haven’t seen shouty yet.

Date:June 13, 2011 09:46

To:Christian Grey

Yes. It is with Jack.

I want to go. It’s an exciting opportunity for me.

And I have never been to New York.

Don’t get your knickers in a twist.

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From:Christian Grey

Subject:No YOU haven’t seen shouty yet.

Date:June 13, 2011 09:50

To:Anastasia Steele

Anastasia

It’s not my fucking knickers I am worried about.

The answer is NO.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

“No!” I shout at my computer, causing the entire office to come to a standstill and stare at

me. Jack peers out from his office.

“Everything all right, Ana?”

“Yes. Sorry,” I mutter. “I er . . . just didn’t save a document.” I am scarlet with embar-

rassment. He smiles at me but with a puzzled expression. I take several deep breaths and

quickly type a response. I am so mad.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Fifty Shades

Date:June 13, 2011 09:55

To:Christian Grey

Christian

You need to get a grip.

I am NOT going to sleep with Jack—not for all the tea in China.

I LOVE you. That’s what happens when people love each other.

They TRUST each other.

I don’t think you are going to SLEEP WITH, SPANK, FUCK, or WHIP anyone else. I have

FAITH and TRUST in you.

Please extend the same COURTESY to me.

Ana

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

I sit waiting for his response. Nothing arrives. I call the airline and book a ticket for myself,

ensuring I am on the same flight as Jack. I hear the ping of new mail.

From:Lincoln, Elena

Subject:Lunch Date

Date:June 13, 2011 10:15

To:Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

I would really like to have lunch with you. I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like

to make that right. Are you free sometime this week?

Elena Lincoln

Holy crap—not Mrs. Robinson!How the hell did she find out my e-mail address? I put my

head in my hands. Can this day get any worse?

My phone rings and wearily I lift my head from my hands and answer, glancing at the

clock. It is only ten twenty, and already I wish I hadn’t left Christian’s bed.

“Jack Hyde’s office, Ana Steele speaking.”

An achingly familiar voice snarls at me, “Will you please delete the last e-mail you

sent me and try to be a little more circumspect in the language you use in your work e-mail?

I told you, the system is monitored. I shall endeavor to do some damage limitation from

here.” He hangs up.

Holy fuck . . .I sit staring at the phone. Christian hung up on me. That man is stomping

all over my fledgling career, and he hangs up on me? I glare at the receiver, and if it wasn’t

completely inanimate, I know it would shrivel in horror under my withering stare.

I open my e-mails and delete the one I sent him. It’s not that bad. I just mention spank-

ing and well, whipping. Jeez, if he’s so ashamed of it, he damn well shouldn’t do it. I pick

up my Blackberry and call his mobile.

“What?” he snaps.

“I am going to New York whether you like it or not,” I hiss.

“Don’t count—”

I hang up, cutting him off mid-sentence. Adrenaline is coursing through my body.

There—that told him. I am so mad.

I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. Closing my eyes, I imagine that I am

in my happy place. Hmm . . . a boat cabin with Christian.I shake the image off as I am too

mad at Fifty right now for him to be anywhere near my happy place.

Opening my eyes, I calmly reach for my notebook and carefully run through my to do

list. I take a long, deep breath, my equilibrium restored.

“Ana!” Jack shouts, startling me. “Don’t book that flight!”

“Oh, too late. I’ve done it,” I reply as he strides out of his office over to me. He looks

mad.“Look, there’s something going on. For some reason, suddenly, all travel and hotel

expenses for staff have to be approved by senior management. This has come right from

the top. I am going up to see old Roach. Apparently, a moratorium on all spending has just

been implemented. I don’t understand it.” Jack pinches the bridge of his nose and closes

his eyes.

Most of the blood drains from my face and knots form in my stomach . Fifty!

“Take my calls. I’ll go see what Roach has to say.” He winks at me and strides off to

see his boss—not the boss’s boss.

Damn it. Christian Grey . . .My blood starts to boil again.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:What have you done?

Date:June 13, 2011 10:43

To:Christian Grey

Please tell me you won’t interfere with my work.

I really want to go to this conference.

I shouldn’t have to ask you.

I have deleted the offending e-mail.

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From:Christian Grey

Subject:What have you done?

Date:June 13, 2011 10:46

To:Anastasia Steele

I am just protecting what is mine.

The e-mail that you so rashly sent is wiped from the SIP server now, as are my e-mails to

you.

Incidentally, I trust you implicitly. It’s him I don’t trust.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I check to see if I still have his e-mails, and they have disappeared. This man’s influence

knows no bounds. How does he do this? Who does he know that can stealthily delve into

the depths of SIP’s servers and remove e-mails? I am so out of my league here.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Grown Up

Date:June 13, 2011 10:43

To:Christian Grey

Christian

I don’t need protecting from my own boss.

He may make a pass at me, but I shall say no.

You cannot interfere. It’s wrong and controlling on so many levels.

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From:Christian Grey

Subject:The Answer is NO

Date:June 13, 2011 10.50

To:Anastasia Steele

Ana

I have seen how “effective” you are at fighting off unwanted attention. I remember that’s

how I had the pleasure of spending my first night with you. At least the photographer has

feelings for you. The sleazeball, on the other hand, does not. He is a serial philanderer,

and he will try to seduce you. Ask him what happened to his previous PA and the one

before that.

I don’t want to fight about this.

If you want to go to New York, I’ll take you. We can go this weekend. I have an apartment

there.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Oh, Christian!That’s not the point. He’s so damn frustrating. And of course he has an

apartment there. Where else does he own property? Trust him to bring up José. Will I ever

live that down? I was drunk, for heaven’s sake. I wouldn’t get drunk with Jack.

I shake my head at the screen, but figure I cannot continue to argue with him over

e-mail. I shall have to bide my time until this evening. I check the clock. Jack is still not

back from his meeting with Jerry, and I need to deal with Elena. I read her e-mail again

and decide that the best way to handle it is to send it to Christian. Let him concentrate on

her rather than me.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:FW Lunch date or Irritating Baggage

Date:June 13, 2011 11:15

To:Christian Grey

Christian

While you have been busy interfering in my career and saving your ass from my careless

missives, I received the following e-mail from Mrs. Lincoln. I really don’t want to meet with

her—even if I did, I am not allowed to leave this building. How she got hold of my e-mail

address, I don’t know. What would you suggest I do? Her e-mail is below:

Dear Anastasia, I would really like to have lunch with you. I think we got off on the

wrong foot, and I’d like to make that right. Are you free sometime this week?

Elena Lincoln

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From:Christian Grey

Subject:Irritating Baggage

Date:June 13, 2011 11:23

To:Anastasia Steele

Don’t be mad at me. I have your best interests at heart.

If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.

I’ll deal with Mrs. Lincoln.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Laters

Date:June 13, 2011: 11:32

To:Christian Grey

Can we please discuss this tonight?

I am trying to work, and your continued interference is very distracting.

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

Jack returns after midday and tells me that New York is off for me though he is still going

and there’s nothing he can do to change senior management policy. He strides into his of-

fice, slamming the door, obviously furious. Why is he so angry?

Deep down, I know his intentions are less than honorable, but I am sure I can deal with

him, and I wonder what Christian knows about Jack’s previous PAs. I park these thoughts

and continue with some work, but resolve to try to make Christian change his mind, though

the prospects are bleak.

At one o’clock, Jack pokes his head out of the office door.

“Ana, please could you go and get me some lunch?”

“Sure. What would you like?”

“Pastrami on rye, hold the mustard. I’ll give you the money when you’re back.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Coke, please. Thanks, Ana.” He heads back into his office as I reach for my purse.

Crap. I promised Christian I wouldn’t go out. I sigh. He’ll never know, and I’ll be

quick.

Claire from reception offers me her umbrella since it is still pouring with rain. As I

head out of the front doors, I pull my jacket around me and take a furtive glance in both

directions from beneath the overlarge golf umbrella. Nothing seems amiss. There’s no sign

of Ghost Girl.

I march briskly, and I hope inconspicuously, down the block to the deli. However, the

closer I get to the deli, the more I have a creepy sense that I am being watched, and I don’t

know if it’s my heightened feeling of paranoia or a reality. Shit. I hope it’s not Leila with

a gun.

It’s just your imagination, my subconscious snaps. Who the hell would want to shoot

you?

Within fifteen minutes, I am back—safe, sound but relieved. I think Christian’s ex-

treme paranoia and his overprotective vigilance is beginning to get to me.

As I take Jack’s lunch in to him, he glances up from the phone.