“Really? I think she has a place here.”
“She was with Elliot.”
My hands still, and Ana opens her eyes.
“What do you mean ‘with Elliot’?”
“We were in a boutique opposite a jeweler. I saw him go in alone, and I thought he must be buying the watch battery. He came out with Gia Matteo. She laughed at something he said, then he kissed her cheek and left.”
Maybe Gia helped him select a ring?
“Ana, they’re just friends. I think Elliot is pretty stuck on Kate.” Unfortunately. “In fact, I know he’s pretty stuck on her.” Though why, I have no idea.
“Kate is gorgeous.” Ana bridles, and I wonder once more if she can read my mind.
“Still glad it was you who fell into my office.” I kiss her big toe, pick up her right foot, and begin the process over again. Ana lays back once more as I lavish attention on her sole and we stop talking about Elliot and Gia and Kate.
I wonder when he’s going to propose?
I leave Ana to get ready for dinner while I head down to my study to check my e-mails. I sit down at my desk and open my laptop. As I go through my inbox, there are a couple of irritating work issues that I need to deal with, but I shelve them for the moment. It’s the e-mail from Leila that stops me in my tracks. My scalp tingles with apprehension. What the hell does she want?
From: Leila Williams
Subject: Thank you
Date: August 27 2011 14:00 EST
To: Christian Grey
Sir, or should I just call you Mr. Grey?
I don’t know anymore.
I wanted to say thank you.
For everything.
In person.
Please.
Leila
I scowl at the screen, and at Leila’s audacity. I’ve asked her, via Flynn, not to contact me directly, and yet she’s sent me this e-mail. I send it on to Flynn and ask him to remind her of my precondition to paying for her treatment and her tuition fees. Hopefully she won’t contact me again.
To add to my annoyance, there’s an e-mail from Ros telling me that the Taiwanese would like to talk tomorrow at 2:30 p.m. their time. On a Sunday? What time is that here?
I google it—shit. That’s half-past midnight, tonight.
What the hell?
I call Ros.
“Christian, hi. How are you?” She sounds upbeat, which only adds to my annoyance.
“Pissed. Can you change the time of this call?”
“I know. It’s ridiculous. But no. One of their execs is only available then.”
“On a Sunday?”
“It’s something to do with them having to be off-site when they make this call.”
I sigh. “Okay.”
“I’ll be on the call, too,” she says, in an attempt to mollify me, I suspect. “And we’ll have an interpreter.”
“Okay, I’ll speak to you then.” I hang up, irritated.
To hell with this.
I head into the den, where Elliot and Ethan are playing pool and drinking beer. I join them for a drink. Taylor has booked a table at a local restaurant for the six of us, but they have time for a game.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Mia?” Elliot asks Ethan.
Ethan chuckles. “You’re as bad as your brother.” He eyes me. “Like I said to Christian, we’re just friends.”
Elliot raises an eyebrow and directs a look at me.
I take a long swig of cool, clean-tasting beer.
“Did you get what you needed from town?” I ask Elliot as we watch Ethan slam in a couple of solids.
“Yeah.” He grins.
“Did you get some help?”
Elliot cocks his head to one side. “Why do you ask?”
“Little bird told me.”
Elliot scowls and Ethan fouls the white ball, so he goes to take his shot.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I have an e-mail from my wife.
From: Anastasia Grey
Subject: Does My Butt Look Big in This?
Date: August 27 2011 18:53 MST
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey
I need your sartorial advice.
Yours
Mrs. G x
Now, this I have to see. I type a quick response.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Peachy
Date: August 27 2011 18:55 MST
To: Anastasia Grey
Mrs. Grey
I seriously doubt it.
But I will come and give your butt a thorough examination just to make sure.
Yours in anticipation
Mr. G x
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings and Butt Inspectorate, Inc.
I abandon my beer, bound up two sets of stairs, and open our bedroom door.
Wow.
Anastasia Grey. Wow.
Paralyzed, I stand on the threshold. Ana’s in front of the full-length mirror. She’s dressed—in a sense—in a tiny silver dress, and towering stilettos. Her hair is a glossy veil edging her beautiful face. Kohl frames her eyes, and dark red lipstick paints her mouth.
She looks sensational; my body comes alive in response.
She flicks her hair to the side. “Well?” she whispers.
“Ana, you look… Wow.”
“You like it?”
“Yes, I guess so.” My voice is husky, betraying my desire. I want to mess up her hair and smudge her lipstick. I want her to be my Ana, not this version of her. This powerful, seductive woman is, frankly, a little intimidating.
And hot.
Ball-tighteningly hot.
I enter the room, bewitched by my wife, and close the door behind me, glad that I put my jacket back on. She has endless, shapely legs. A vision of her feet in those shoes, hooked over my shoulders, comes to the forefront of my mind.
Fuck.
Placing my hands on her naked shoulders, I turn her around so we’re both facing the mirror.
Christ!
This dress hardly has a back.
At least it covers her backside. Just.
Our eyes meet in the glass, smoky blue to darkening gray.
She looks every inch the goddess I know. And tall. Really tall!