“I’d like to stay until tomorrow. My flight is at noon,” she states.
“I’ll have someone collect you at ten to take you to the airport.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re at Susannah’s?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Leila turns to Ana. “Good-bye, Mrs. Grey. Thank you for seeing me.”
Ana rises and holds out her hand, and they shake. “Um, good-bye. Good luck,” she says.
Leila nods with a faint, sincere smile and turns to me. “Good-bye, Christian.”
“Good-bye, Leila. Dr. Flynn, remember.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I open the door for her to leave, but she pauses in front of me. “I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve to be,” she says, and then she’s out the door. I watch her leave, baffled by our exchange.
What the hell was that all about?
I close the door and, taking a deep breath, turn to face my wife.
“Don’t even think about being angry with me,” she snarls. “Call Claude Bastille and kick the shit out of him, or go see Flynn.” Her cheeks pink with her rising anger.
Wow. Attack as the first form of defense.
But that’s not what this is about.
“You promised you wouldn’t do this.”
“Do what?” she spits at me.
“Defy me.”
“No, I didn’t. I said I’d be more considerate. I told you she was here. I had Prescott search her, and your other little friend, too. Prescott was with me the entire time. Now you’ve fired the poor woman, when she was only doing what I asked.” Ana is on a roll. “I told you not to worry, yet here you are. I don’t remember receiving your papal bull decreeing that I couldn’t see Leila. I didn’t know that my visitors were subject to a proscribed list.” She’s mad, really mad, her voice rising and her eyes flashing with righteous indignation.
Impressive, Mrs. Grey.
I marvel at how she always stands up to me and remains as disarming as ever. And she’s funny, sucking the venom of the room with her choice of words. “Papal bull?” I ask, because it’s the most amusing and disrespectful thing I’ve heard in a while, and I hope to raise a smile.
Ana remains stony-faced.
Shit. “What?” I ask, exasperated. I had hoped that we could move on, now that she’s got everything off her chest.
“You. Why were you so callous toward her?”
What? I wasn’t callous, I was mad. She shouldn’t be here.
Hell.
Sighing, I lean against the table. “Anastasia, you don’t understand. Leila, Susannah—all of them—they were a pleasant, diverting pastime. But that’s all. You are the center of my universe. And the last time you two were in a room together, she had you at gunpoint. I don’t want her anywhere near you.”
“But, Christian, she was ill.”
“I know that, and I know she’s better now, but I’m not giving her the benefit of the doubt anymore. What she did was unforgivable.”
“But you’ve just played right into her hands. She wanted to see you again, and she knew you’d come running if she came to see me.”
I shrug. “I don’t want you tainted with my old life.”
Ana frowns. “Christian, you are who you are because of your old life, your new life, whatever. What touches you touches me. I accepted that when I agreed to marry you, because I love you.”
Where is she going with this?
Her expression is raw, full of compassion.
But this time it’s not for me, but for Leila.
Who knew Leila would find an advocate in my wife?
“She didn’t hurt me. She loves you, too.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
And no, she doesn’t love me. How could she?
Leila knows only too well what I’m capable of…
Ana stares at me as if she’s seeing me for the first time.
Oh, baby. I told you a long time ago. Fifty Shades.
“Why are you championing her cause all of a sudden?” I ask, baffled.
“Look, Christian, I don’t think Leila and I will be swapping recipes and knitting patterns anytime soon. But I didn’t think you’d be so heartless to her.”
“I told you once, I don’t have a heart,” I mutter, and even to my own ears I sound petulant.
She rolls her eyes. “That’s just not true, Christian. You’re being ridiculous. You do care about her. You wouldn’t be paying for art classes and the rest of that stuff if you didn’t.”
I remember Leila, broken and filthy as I bathed her in Ana’s old apartment and how I felt seeing her like that.
Hell. I’ve had enough of this shit.
“This discussion is over. Let’s go home.”
Ana glances at her watch. “It’s too early.”
“Home!” I insist.
Please. Ana.
“Christian, I’m tired of having the same argument with you.” She sounds weary.
What argument?
“You know,” she continues, correctly interpreting my frown, “I do something you don’t like, and you think of some way to get back at me. Usually involving some of your kinky fuckery, which is either mind-blowing or cruel.” She shrugs.
Cruel? Shit.
Yeah, she safe-worded on you, Grey.
Fuck.
“Mind-blowing?” I ask, because I don’t want to dwell on cruel.
“Usually, yes.”
“What was mind-blowing?”
Ana looks exasperated. “You know.”
“I can guess.” Various erotic memories cloud my imagination. Ana in a spreader bar, shackled to the bed, the cross…in my childhood bedroom…
“Christian, I—” She sounds breathless; distracting her has worked.
“I like to please you.” I brush my thumb over her bottom lip.
“You do.” Her voice is petal-soft, caressing me. Everywhere.
“I know.” I whisper in her ear, “It’s the one thing I do know.” When I stand, Ana’s eyes are closed. She opens them abruptly and purses her lips, probably in response to my wicked smile.