Fifty Shades Trilogy Bundle: Fifty Shades of Grey; Fifty Shades Darker; Fifty Shades Freed (100 page)

I put the BlackBerry down and get on with my work.

AT LUNCHTIME JACK ASKS
me to go down to the deli for him. I call Christian as soon as I leave Jack’s office.

“Anastasia.” He answers immediately, his voice warm and caressing. How is it that this man can make me melt over the phone?

“Christian, Jack has asked me to get his lunch.”

“Lazy bastard,” Christian gripes.

I ignore him and continue. “So, I’m going to get it. It might be handy if you gave me Sawyer’s number, so I don’t have to bother you.”

“It’s no bother, baby.”

“Are you on your own?”

“No. There are six people staring at me right now wondering who the hell I’m talking to.”

Shit
 … “Really?” I gasp, panicked.

“Yes. Really. My girlfriend,” he announces away from the phone.

Holy cow!
“They probably all thought you were gay, you know.”

He laughs. “Yeah, probably.” I hear his grin.

“Er—I’d better go.” I am sure he can tell how embarrassed I am to be interrupting him.

“I’ll let Sawyer know.” He laughs again. “Have you heard from your friend?”

“Not yet. You’ll be the first to know, Mr. Grey.”

“Good. Laters, baby.”

“Bye, Christian.” I grin. Every time he says that, it makes me smile … so un-Fifty, but somehow so him, too.

WHEN I EXIT SECONDS
later, Sawyer is waiting on the doorstep of the building.

“Miss Steele,” he greets me formally.

“Sawyer.” I nod in response and together we head down to the deli.

I don’t feel as comfortable with Sawyer as I do with Taylor. He keeps scanning the street as we make our way along the block. It actually makes me more nervous, and I find myself mirroring his actions.

Is Leila out there? Or are we all infected by Christian’s paranoia? Is this part of his fifty shades? What I’d give for half an hour of candid discussion with Dr. Flynn to find out.

There’s nothing amiss, just lunchtime Seattle—people rushing for lunch, shopping, meeting friends. I watch two young women hug as they meet up.

I miss Kate. It’s only been two weeks since she left for her vacation, but it feels like the longest two weeks of my life. So much has happened—she’ll never believe me when I tell her. Well, tell her the edited, NDA-compliant version. I frown. I’ll have to talk to Christian about that. What would Kate make of it? I blanch at the thought. Perhaps she’ll be back with Ethan. I feel a rush of excitement at the thought, but I think it’s unlikely. She’d probably stay on with Elliot.

“Where do you stand when you’re waiting and watching outside?” I ask Sawyer as we get in line for lunch. Sawyer is in front of me, facing the door, continually monitoring the street and anyone who comes in. It’s unnerving.

“I sit in the coffee shop directly across the street, Miss Steele.”

“Doesn’t it get very boring?”

“Not to me, ma’am. It’s what I do,” he says stiffly.

I flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply …” My voice trails off at his kind, understanding expression.

“Please, Miss Steele. My job is to protect you. And that’s what I’ll do.”

“So, no sign of Leila?”

“No, ma’am.”

I frown. “How do you know what she looks like?”

“I’ve seen her photograph.”

“Oh, do you have it on you?”

“No, ma’am.” He taps his skull. “Committed to memory.”

Of course. I’d really like to examine a photograph of Leila to see what she looked like before she became Ghost Girl. I wonder if Christian would let me have a copy? Yes, he probably would—for my safety. I hatch a plan, and my subconscious gloats and nods approvingly.

THE BROCHURES ARRIVE BACK
at the office, and to my relief they look great. I take one into Jack’s office. His eyes light up; I don’t know if it’s at me or the brochure. I choose to believe it’s the latter.

“These look great, Ana.” Idly, he flicks through it. “Yeah, good job. Are you seeing your boyfriend this evening?” His lip curls as he says “boyfriend.”

“Yes. We live together.” It’s sort of the truth. Well, we do at the moment. And I have officially agreed to move in, so it’s not much of a white lie. I hope that it’s enough to throw him off the scent.

“Would he object to you coming out for a quick drink tonight? To celebrate all your hard work?”

“I have a friend coming in from out of town tonight, and we’re all going out for dinner.” And I’ll be busy every night, Jack.

“I see.” He sighs, exasperated. “Maybe when I’m back from New York, huh?” He raises his eyebrows in expectation, and his gaze darkens suggestively.

Oh no
. I smile, noncommittal, stifling a shudder.

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” I ask.

“Coffee, please.” His voice is low and husky as if he’s asking for something else. Fuck. He’s not going to back off. I can see that now.
Oh … What to do?

I breathe a long sigh of relief when I am out of his office. He makes me tense. Christian is right about him, and part of me is pissed that Christian
is
right about him.

I sit down at my desk and my BlackBerry rings—a number I don’t recognize.

“Ana Steele.”

“Hi, Steele!” Ethan’s drawl catches me momentarily off guard.

“Ethan! How are you?” I almost squeal with delight.

“Glad to be back. I am seriously fed up with sunshine and rum punches, and my baby sister being hopelessly in love with the big guy. It’s been hell, Ana.”

“Yeah! Sea, sand, sun, and rum punches sounds like
Dante’s Inferno
.” I giggle. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Sea-Tac, waiting for my bag. What are you doing?”

“I’m at work. Yes, I am gainfully employed,” I respond to his gasp. “Do you want to come here and collect the keys? I can meet you later at the apartment.”

“Sounds great. I’ll see you in about forty-five minutes, an hour maybe? What’s the address?”

I give him SIP’s address.

“See you soon, Ethan.”

“Laters,” he says and hangs up. What? Not Ethan, too? And it dawns on me that he’s just spent a week with Elliot. I quickly type an e-mail to Christian.

He doesn’t reply, but then I don’t expect him to. I imagine him moaning about mixed signals, and the thought makes me smile. I daydream briefly about what he might do to me but find myself shifting about in my chair. My subconscious gazes at me disapprovingly over her half-moon specs—get on with your work.

A LITTLE LATER, MY
phone buzzes. It’s Claire at Reception.

“There’s a real cute guy in Reception to see you. We must go out for drinks sometime, Ana. You sure know some hunky guys,” she hisses conspiratorially through the phone.

Ethan! Grabbing my keys from my purse, I hurry out to the foyer.

Holy shit—sun-bleached blond hair, a tan to die for, and glowing hazel eyes gaze up at me from the green leather couch. As soon as he sees me, his mouth drops open, and he’s on his feet coming toward me.

“Wow, Ana.” He frowns at me as he bends to give me hug.

“You look well.” I grin up at him.

“You look … wow—different. Worldly, more sophisticated. What’s happened? You changed your hair? Clothes? I don’t know, Steele, but you look hot!”

I blush furiously. “Oh, Ethan. I’m just in my work clothes,” I scold as Claire looks on with an arched eyebrow and a wry smile.

“How was Barbados?”

“Fun,” he says.

“When’s Kate coming back?”

“She and Elliot are flying back Friday. They’re pretty damn serious about each other.” Ethan rolls his eyes.

“I’ve missed her.”

“Yeah? How have you been doing with Mr. Mogul?”

“Mr. Mogul?” I snicker. “Well, it’s been interesting. He’s taking us out for dinner this evening.”

“Cool.” Ethan seems genuinely pleased. Phew!

“Here.” I hand him the keys. “You have the address?”

“Yeah. Laters.” He leans over and kisses my cheek.

“Elliot’s expression?”

“Yeah, kind of grows on you.”

“It does. Laters.” I smile at him as he picks up his large over-the-shoulder bag from beside the green couch and exits the building.

When I turn, Jack is watching me from the far side of the foyer, his expression unreadable. I smile brightly at him and head back to my desk, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. This is beginning to get on my nerves. What to do? I have no idea. I’ll have to wait until Kate is back. She’s bound to come up with a plan. The thought dispels my bleak mood, and I pick up the next manuscript.

AT FIVE TO SIX
, my phone buzzes. It’s Christian.

“Crusty and Cross here,” he says and I grin. He’s still playful Fifty. My inner goddess is clapping her hands with glee like a small child.

“Well, this is Sex Mad and Insatiable. I take it you’re outside?” I ask dryly.

“I am indeed, Miss Steele. Looking forward to seeing you.” His voice is warm and seductive, and my heart flutters wildly.

“Ditto, Mr. Grey. I’ll be right out.” I hang up.

I switch off my computer and gather up my purse and cream cardigan.

“I’m off now, Jack,” I call through.

“Okay, Ana. Thanks for today! Have a great evening.”

“You, too.”

Why can’t he be like that all the time? I don’t understand him.

THE AUDI IS PARKED
at the curb, and Christian climbs out as I approach. He’s taken off his jacket, and he’s wearing his gray pants, my favorite ones that hang from his hips—in that way. How can this Greek god be meant for me? I find myself grinning like a loon in answer to his own idiotic grin.

He’s spent the whole day acting like a boyfriend in love—in
love with me. This adorable, complex, flawed man is in love with me, and I with him. Joy bursts unexpectedly inside me, and I savor the moment as I feel briefly that I could conquer the world.

“Miss Steele, you look as captivating as you did this morning.” Christian pulls me into his arms and kisses me soundly.

“Mr. Grey, so do you.”

“Let’s go get your friend.” He smiles down at me and opens the car door.

As Taylor heads to the apartment, Christian fills me in on his day—a much better one than yesterday, it seems. I gaze at him adoringly as he attempts to explain some breakthrough the environmental science department at WSU in Vancouver has made. His words mean very little to me, but I’m captivated by his passion and interest in this subject. Maybe this is what it will be like, good days and bad days, and if the good days are like this, I won’t have much to complain about. He hands me a sheet of paper.

“These are the times that Claude is free this week,” he says.

Oh! The trainer.

As we pull up to my apartment building, he fishes his BlackBerry from his pocket.

“Grey,” he answers. “Ros, what is it?” He listens intently, and I can tell it’s an involved conversation.

“I’ll go and get Ethan. I’ll be two minutes,” I mouth at Christian and hold up two fingers.

He nods, obviously distracted by the call. Taylor opens my door, smiling at me warmly. I grin at him; even Taylor’s feeling it. I press the entry phone and shout happily into it.

“Hi, Ethan, it’s me. Let me in.”

The door buzzes, and I head upstairs to the apartment. It occurs to me that I have not been here since Saturday morning. That seems so long ago. Ethan has kindly left the front door open. I step into the apartment, and I don’t know why, but I freeze instinctively as soon as I step inside. I take a moment to realize it’s because the pale, wan figure standing by the kitchen island and holding a small revolver is Leila, and she’s gazing impassively at me.

H
oly fuck
.