“She’s in Seattle.”
At a fucking bar.
“Shame she couldn’t come tonight,” she says.
“She works. And she enjoys her job.”
“Oh. How quaint. What does she do?”
I grit my teeth. “She’s in publishing.”
And I wish she were here.
Or I were back in Seattle.
My mood grows bleaker. My sirloin with béarnaise sauce doesn’t taste quite as good as it did. It’s weird. I’ve always attended these events without a date; now I don’t know what possessed me to accept the invitation without Ana.
Well, I thought Ana would come with me.
Though, now that I think about it, she was a little bored at the benefit we attended yesterday.
And tonight, she’s out drinking. With Kate.
Having fun.
Shit.
Every time I’ve known them to go out together, Ana has had too much to drink. The first night we slept together in Portland she was so drunk she passed out in my arms. She was totally inebriated when she got home after her bachelorette party. An image of her naked in bed, her arms beckoning me, her sweet, seductive tone, calls to me. “You can do anything you want to me.”
Fuck!
It’s always when she’s out with Kavanagh.
Keep it together, Grey. The security team is with her.
What harm can she come to?
Hyde. He’s out there, somewhere. And he wants revenge? I don’t know.
He’s a maniac.
I look up at Taylor, who is standing on the other side of the room. He shakes his head.
She’s still out. She’s still drinking. With Kavanagh.
I’m dragged back into the now, and a conversation about conflict minerals and reliable sources of ethically mined materials.
After the delicious and frankly comforting dark chocolate torte, I look up at Taylor again.
He shakes his head.
Hell.
That’s time for how many drinks?
I hope she’s had something to eat.
“Excuse me, I have to make a call.” I leave the table and call Ana from the lobby. She doesn’t pick up. I try her again. No answer. I try once more. Still no answer.
Fuck.
I text her.
WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!
She should be home. Or here.
And I know I’m being petulant, but she won’t even pick up my calls.
I storm back into the ballroom, where a charity auction is about to begin. I listen to the first two lots. Both involve golf.
Fuck this.
I write a check for one hundred thousand dollars and hand it to Mrs. Michaels. “I am sorry, Callista, but I have to go. Thank you for hosting a lovely evening. I’ll pledge the same again for next year. It’s a worthy cause.”
“Christian, that’s so generous. Thank you.” I get up to leave, as does she, and she kisses me on both cheeks, which I’m not expecting.
“Good night,” I say to Callista, and I shake her husband’s hand.
I eye Taylor at the edge of the room, and I think he’s already calling the car.
Even with its high ceilings and great views over the city, the place suddenly feels claustrophobic, and I’m grateful when we get outside into the balmy evening heat of New York.
“Sir, the car will be a couple of minutes.”
“Okay. She’s still there? At the Zig Zag?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s go home.”
Taylor tilts his head. “Tribeca?”
“No, Seattle.”
He stares at me, his face giving nothing away, but I know he thinks I’m crazy.
I sigh. “Yes. I’m sure. I want to go home.” I answer his unspoken question.
“I’ll call Stephan,” he says.
He wanders over to the side of the main entrance and makes the call. I try Ana again, and her phone goes to voice mail. I don’t trust myself to leave a message. I realize I could call Sawyer, but I have only a flimsy hold on my temper.
Taylor could call him. But what would that achieve? It’s not like Sawyer can physically remove Ana from the bar.
Could he?
Grey! Behave.
Taylor finishes his call and walks back to me, his expression grim.
What the hell?
“Sir, the Gulfstream is at Teterboro. It can be ready to fly in an hour.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“Do you want to go back to the apartment?” he asks.
“No, I don’t need anything there. Do you need to go back there?”
“No, sir.”
“We’ll go straight to the airport.”
In the car I brood. I have a nagging suspicion that I’m behaving badly, but not as badly as my wife. Why can’t she do what she says? Or let me know?
Hyde is out for revenge, and I’m scared.
For her.
And for me, if I lose her.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Once we’re on board, I remove my bow tie, fold it, and stuff it into the outside breast pocket of my tux. Taylor hangs my jacket with his in the small closet, and I grab a blanket for each of us, then take a seat in the main cabin.
I gaze out into the New Jersey darkness, tension leaching from my muscles into my bones. While we were in the terminal waiting for the Gulfstream, I managed to restrain myself from calling Ana again. But I can bear it no longer, and as Stephan and Beighley do their final checks, I call Sawyer.
“Mr. Grey,” he says, above the background hum of the bar. People are out, enjoying themselves. Like Ana.
“Sawyer, good evening. Is Mrs. Grey still with you?”
“She is, sir.”
I’m tempted to ask him to hand his phone to her, but I know I will lose my shit and she’s probably having a good time. I’m reassured that she’s under Sawyer’s watchful eye.
“Do you want to talk to her?” he asks.
“No. Stick close to her. Keep her safe.”
Hyde could be anywhere.
“Yes, sir. Prescott and I have her covered,” Sawyer replies. I hang up and glance at Taylor, who is sitting diagonally opposite me, watching me impassively.