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Holy hell. Christ ians been getting my callsunless hes just thrown the BlackBerry away. How did he ge t my e-mail address? He knows my shoe size; an e-mail address is hardly going to present him with many problems.
Can I see him again? Could I bear it? Do I want to see him? I close my eyes and tilt my head back as grief and longing lance th rough me. Of course I do. Perhapsperhaps I can tell him Ive changed my mind. No, no, no. I cannot be with someone who takes pleasure in in icting pain on me, s omeone who cant love me.
Torturous memories ash through my mindthe gliding, holding hands, kissing, the bathtub, his gentleness, his humor, and his dark, brooding, sexy stare. I miss him. Its been ve days, ve days of agony that has felt like an e ternity. I cry myself to sleep at night, wishing I hadnt walked out, wishing that he could be different, wishing that we were together.
How long will this hideou s overwhelming feeling last? I am in purgatory. I wrap my arms around my body, h ugging myself tightly, holding myself together. I really miss him. I love him. Anastasia Steele, you are at work! I must be strong, but I want to go to Joss show, and deep down, the masochist in me wants to see Christ ian. Taking a deep breath, I head back to my desk.
Yes, I would appreciate a lift. Thank you. Jack is in a meeting, so I quickly call Jos. Hi, Jos. Its Ana. Hello, stranger. His to e is so warm and welcoming its almost enough to push me over the edge again.
I cant talk long. What time should I be there tomorrow for your show? Youre still coming? He sounds excited. Yes, of course. I smile my rst genuine smile in ve days as I pict ure his broad grin.
See you then. Good-bye, Jos. Bye, Ana. What time would you suggest? I shall pick you up at I look forward to seeing you. Im going to see Christian, and for the rst time in ve days, my spirits lift a fraction and I allow myself to wonder how hes been. Has he missed me? Probably not like Ive missed him. Has he found a new submissive? The thought is so painful that I dismiss it immediately. I look at the pile of correspondence I need to s ort for Jack and tackle it as I try to push Christian out of my mind once more.
That night in bed, I toss and turn, trying to sleep and its the rst time in a whil e I havent cried myself to sleep. In my minds eye, I visualize Christians face the last time I saw him as when I left. His tortured expression haunts me. I remembe r he didnt want me to go, which was odd. Why would I stay when things had reached such an impasse?
We were each skirting around our own issuesmy fear of punishmen t, his fear of. Turning on my side, I hug my pillow, lled with a n overwhelming sadness. He thinks he doesnt deserve to be loved. Why does he feel that way? Does it have to do with his upbringing? His birth mom, the crack whor e? My thoughts plague me into the early hours until eventually I fall into a tful , exhausted sleep.
I suspect its due to Ka tes plum dress and the black high-heeled boots Ive stolen from her closet, but I d ont dwell on the thought.
I resolve to go clothes shopping with my rst paycheck. T he dress is looser on me than it was, but I pretend not to notice. Finally its ve thirty, and I collect my jacket and purse, trying to quell my nerves. Im going to see him! Jack asks as he strolls past my desk on his way out. Not really. He raises an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. No, a friend. An ex-boyfriend. Maybe tomorrow youd like to come for a drink afte r work.
Youve had a stellar rst week, Ana. We should celebrate. He smiles and an un known, unsettling emotion its across his face, making me uneasy. Putting his hand s in his pockets, he saunters through the double doors. I frown at his retreatin g back. Drinks with the boss, is that a good idea? I shake my head. I have an ev ening of Christian Grey to get through rst. How am I going to do this?
I hurry in to the restroom to make last-minute adjustments. In the large mirror on the wall , I take a long, hard look at my face. Im my usual pale self, dark circles around my too-large eyes. I look gaunt, haunted. I wish I knew how to use makeup. I ap ply some mascara and eyeliner and pinch my cheeks, hoping for some color. Tidyin g my hair so that it hangs artfully down my back, I take a deep breath. This wil l have to do. Nervously I walk through the foyer with a smile and a wave to Clai re at Reception.
I think she and I could become friends. Jack is talking to Eliz abeth as I head for the doors. Smiling broadly, he hurries over to open them for me. After you, Ana, he murmurs. I smile, embarrassed. Outside on the cur b, Taylor is waiting. He opens the rear door of the car. I glance hesitantly at Jack, who has followed me out. Hes looking toward the Audi SUV in dismay. I turn and climb into the back, and there he sitsChristian Greywearing his gray suit, no tie, white shirt open at the collar.
His gray eyes are glowing. My mouth dries. He looks glorious except hes scowling at me. Hello, C hristian. Yes, its nice to see you, too. I dont want your smart mouth now. Answer me. His eyes blaze. I had a yogurt at lunchtime. Ohand a banana. Wh en did you last have a real meal?
Taylor slips into the drivers se at, starts the car, and pulls out into the traf c. I glance up and Jack is waving at me, though how he can see me through the dark glass, I dont know. I wave back. Whos that?
Christian snaps. My boss. I peek up at the beautiful man beside me, and h is mouth is pressed into a hard line. Your last meal? Christian, that really is none of your concern, I murmur, feeling extraordinarily brave.
Whatever you do concerns me. Tell me. No, it doesnt. I groan in frustration, rolling my eyes heave nward, and Christian narrows his eyes.
And for the rst time in a long time, I wan t to laugh. I try hard to sti e the giggle that threatens to bubble up. Christians face softens as I struggle to keep a straight face, and a trace of a smile kisse s his lovely sculptured lips. Pasta alla vongole, last Friday, I whisper. He closes his eyes as fury, and possibly regret, sweeps a cross his face. I see, he says, his voice expressionless.
You look like youve lost a t least ve pounds, possibly more since then. Please eat, Anastasia, he scolds.
I s tare down at the knotted ngers in my lap. Why does he always make me feel like an errant child? He shifts and turns toward me. How are you? I swallow. If I told you I was ne, Id be lying. He inhale s sharply. Me, too, he murmurs and reaches over and clasps my hand.
I miss you, he a dds. Oh no. Skin against skin. Christian, I Ana, please.
We need to talk. Im going to cry. Christian, I. Ive cried so much, I whisper, trying to ke ep my emotions in check Oh, baby, no. He tugs my hand, and before I know it Im on h is lap. He has his arms around me, and his nose is in my hair. Ive missed you so m uch, Anastasia, he breathes. I want to struggle out of his hold, to maintain some distance, but his arms are wrapped around me. Hes pressing me to his chest. I me lt. Oh, this is where I want to be. I rest my head against him, and he kisses my hair repeatedly.
This is home. He smells of linen, fabric softener, body wash, and my favorite smellChristian. For a moment, I allow myself the illusion that al l will be well, and it soothes my ravaged soul. A few minutes later Taylor pulls to a stop at the curb, even though were still in the city. ComeChristian shifts me off his lapwere here. Helipadon the top of this building. Christian glances towa d the building by way of explanation. Of course. Charlie Tango. Taylor opens the door and I slide out.
He gives me a warm, avuncular smile that makes me feel sa fe. I smile back. I should give you back your handkerchief.
Keep it, Miss Steele, w ith my best wishes. I blush as Christian comes around the car and takes my hand. He looks quizzically at Taylor, who stares impassively back at him, revealing no thing. Christian says to him. Christian nods as he turns and leads me through the double doors into th e grandiose foyer. I revel in the feel of his hand and his long, skilled ngers cu rled around mine. The familiar pull is thereIm drawn, Icarus to his sun. Ive been b urned already, and yet here I am again.
Reaching the elevators, he presses the ca ll button. I peek up at him, and hes wearing his enigmatic half smile. As the door s open, he releases my hand and ushers me in. The doors close and I risk a secon d peek. He glances down at me, and its there in the air between us, that electric ity. Its palpable. I can almost taste it, pulsing between us, drawing us together.
Oh my, I gasp as I bask brie y in the intensity of this visceral, primal attractio n. I feel it, too, he says, his eyes clouded and intense. Desire pools dark and de adly in my groin. He clasps my hand and grazes my knuckles with his thumb, and a ll my muscles clench tightly, deliciously, deep inside me. How can he still do t his to me?
Please dont bite your lip, Anastasia, he whispers. I gaze up at him, rel easing my lip. I want him. Here, now, in the elevator. How could I not? You know what it does to me, he murmurs. Oh, I still affect him. My inner goddess stirs fr om her ve- day sulk. Abruptly the doors open, breaking the spell, and were on the roof. Its windy, and despite my black jacket, Im cold. Christian puts his arm arou nd me, pulling me into his side, and we hurry across to where Charlie Tango stan ds in the center of the helipad, with its rotor blades slowly spinning.
A tall, blond, square-jawed man in a dark suit leaps out and, ducking low, runs toward u s. Shaking hands with Christian, he shouts above the noise of the rotors. Ready t o go, sir. Shes all yours! Yes, sir. Youll collect her around eight thirty? Taylor for you out front. Thank you, Mr. Safe ight to Portland. He salutes me. Without releasing me, Christian nods, ducks down, and leads me to the helicopter door.
Once inside he buckles me rmly into my harness, cinching the straps tight. He gives me a knowing look and his secret smile.
This should keep you in your pl ace, he murmurs. I must say I like this harness on you. Dont touch anything. I ush a deep crimson, and he runs his index nger down my cheek before handing me the head phones. Id like to touch you, too, but you wont let me. I scowl. Besides, hes pulle d the straps so tight I can barely move.
He sits in his seat and buckles himself in, then starts running through all his pre ight checks. Hes just so competent. Its very alluring. He puts on his headphones and ips a switch and the rotors speed u p, deafening me. Turning, he gazes at me. Ready, baby? His voice echoes through th e headphones. He grins his boyish grin. WowIve not seen it for so long. Please con rm, over.
The disembodied voice of the air traf c controller ans wers, issuing instructions. Roger, tower, Charlie Tango set, over and out. Christi an ips two switches, grasps the stick, and the helicopter rises slowly and smooth ly into the evening sky. Seattle and my stomach drop away from us, and theres so much to see. I turn and gape at him in surprise. What does t his mean? How is it that he can say the most romantic things?
He smiles, and I c ant help my shy smile. As well as the evening sun, theres more to see this time, he says. The last time we ew to Seattle it was dark, but this evening the view is sp ectacular, literally out of this world. Were up among the tallest buildings, goin g higher and higher. Escalas over there. He points toward the building. Boeing there , and you can just see the Space Needle. I crane my head. Ive never been. Ill take you e can eat there. Christian, we broke up.
I know. I can still take you there and feed you. He glares at me. I shake my head and decide not to antagonize him. Its very b eautiful up here, thank you.
Impressive, isnt it? Impressive that you can do this. Fla tery from you, Miss Steele? But Im a man of many talents. Im fully aware of that, Mr. He turns and smirks at me, and for the rst time in ve days, I relax a littl e. Perhaps this wont be so bad. Hows the new job? Good, thank you. Whats ur boss like?
Oh, hes okay. How can I tell Christian that Jack makes me uncomfortabl e? Christian glances at me. Whats wrong? Aside from the obvious, nothing. The obvious? Oh, Christian, you really are very obtuse sometimes.
Im not sur e I appreciate your tone, Miss Steele. His lips twitch into a smile. I have missed your smart mouth, Anas tasia. I gasp and I want to shout, Ive missed youall of younot just your mouth! But I keep quiet and gaze out the glass shbowl that is Charlie Tangos windshield as we continue south.
The dusk is to our right, the sun low on the horizonlarge, blazi ng ery orangeand I am Icarus again, ying far too close. Its a cle ar, crisp evening, and the lights of Portland twinkle and wink, welcoming us as Christian sets the helicopter down on the helipad. We are on top of the strange brown brick building in Portland we left less than three weeks ago. Its been hard ly any time at all. Yet I feel like Ive known Christian for a lifetime. He powers down Charlie Tango, ipping various switches so the rotors stop, and eventually a ll I hear is my own breathing through the headphones.
Brie y it reminds me of the Thomas Tallis experience. I blanch. I dont want to go there right now. Chris tian unbuckles his harness and leans across to undo mine.
Good trip, Miss Steele? Yes, thank you, Mr. Grey, I reply polit ely. Well, lets go see the boys photos. He holds his hand out to me and taking it, I climb out of Charlie Tango.
A gray-haired man with a beard walks over to meet u s, grinning broadly, and I recognize him as the old-timer from the last time we were here. Christian smiles and releases my hand to shake Joes warmly. Keep her safe for Stephan. Hell be along around eight or nine. Maam, he says, nodding at me. Your cars waiting downstairs, sir. O h, and the elevators out of order; youll need to use the stairs.
Thank you, Joe. Chri stian takes my hand, and we head to the emergency stairs. Good thing for you this is only three oors, in those heels, he mutters in disapproval. No kidding. Dont you like the boots? I like them very much, Anastasia. His gaze darkens and I think he might say something else, but he stops. Well take it slow. I dont want you fa lling and breaking your neck. My anxiety has returned full force, and I realize that our time in Charlie Tango has been the eye of the storm.
Christian is quiet and brooding. Theres so much I want to say, but this journey is too short. Christ ian stares pensively out the window.
Jos is just a friend, I murmur. Christian turn s and gazes at me, his eyes dark and guarded, giving nothing away. His mouthoh, h is mouth is distracting, and unbidden. I remember it on meeverywhere. My skin hea ts. He shifts in his seat and frowns. Those beautiful eyes look too large in your face, Anastasia. Please tell me youll eat. Yes, Christian, Ill eat, I answer automat ically, a platitude. I mean it.
Do you, now? I cannot keep the disdain out of my voi ce. Honestly, the audacity of this manthis man who has put me through hell over t he last few days. No, thats wrong. Ive put myself through hell. Its him. I shak e my head, confused. I dont want to ght with you, Anastasia.
I want you back, and I want you healthy, he says. But nothings changed. Youre still fty shades. Were here. The car pulls up in front of the gallery, and Christian climbs out, leaving me speechless. He opens the car door for me, and I clamber out. Why do you do that? My voice is louder than I expected. Do what? Chris tian is taken aback. Say something like that and then just stop.
Anastasia, were her e. Where you want to be. Lets do this and then talk. I dont particularly want a sc ene in the street. I glance around. Hes right. Its too public.
I press my lips toge ther as he glares down at me. Okay, I mutter sulkily. Clasping my hand, he takes m e into the building. We are in a converted warehousebrick walls, dark wood oors, w hite ceilings, and white pipe work.
Its airy and modern, and there are several pe ople wandering across the gallery oor, sipping wine and admiring Joss work.
For a m oment, my troubles melt away as I grasp that Jos has realized his dream. Way to g o, Jos! Good evening and welcome to Jos Rodriguezs show. A young woman dressed in bla ck with very short brown hair, bright red lipstick, and large hooped earrings gr eets us.
She glances brie y at me, then much longer than is strictly necessary at Christian, then turns back to me, blinking as she blushes.
My brow creases. Hes m ineor was. I try hard not to scowl at her. As her eyes regain their focus, she bl inks again. Oh, its you, Ana. Well want your take on all this, too. Grinning, she ha nds me a brochure and directs me to a table laden with drinks and snacks. You kno w her? Christian frowns. I shake my head, equally puzzled. He shrugs, distracted. What would you like to drink? Ill have a glass of white wine, thank you.
His brow fu rrows, but he holds his tongue and heads for the open bar. Jos comes barreling through a throng of people. Holy cow! Hes wearing a suit. H e looks good and hes beaming at me. He enfolds me in his arms, hugging me hard. A nd its all I can do not to burst into tears.
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