Ros’s lips twitch into a benevolent smile as she stands. “Good luck with that.” Her parting words echo through the empty room, leaving me to contemplate where the hell I’m going to take the future Mrs. Grey for a honeymoon.
I hope she has a passport.
Back in my office I check my computer, and there’s an e-mail from Ana that she sent an hour ago.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Jibbing and Jibing. Bowlines and Halyards.
Date: July 5 2011 9:54
To: Christian Grey
My darling Mr. Grey
What a spectacular weekend! The best July 4th ever. Thank you.
I am also giving you advance notice that I will be staying at my apartment with Kate on Friday. I will be packing so I can move in with you on Saturday. But, I should warn you, this will be a girls-only evening, so your presence will not be required, but much missed.
Maybe you can write your vows?
Just an idea.
Laters, baby.
Axxx
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Abandoning ship.
Date: July 5 2011 11:03
To: Anastasia Steele
My darling fiancée
Thank YOU for the most relaxed July 4th I’ve ever experienced.
I will miss you on Friday.
But will help you move in on Saturday.
You make my dreams come true.
I will consider my vows and maybe write a few…
I did not mean that to rhyme!
Christian Grey
CEO & poet, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
PS: Do you possess a passport?
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Citizen of the USA
Date: July 5 2011 11:14
To: Christian Grey
Dear Poet
I’d stick to high finance if I were you.
Though I’m glad your dreams doth come true.
I’m thrilled and honored to report.
I do possess a new passport.
Now you have me thinking why?
Are we off someplace to fly?
I’d love to travel the world with you.
Not as one, but as two.
Curious of Seattle xxx
(And not a poet, as you can tell!)
My future wife is a dreadful poet! Grinning at her response, I grab my gym bag and head out of the office, and down to the basement to face Bastille.
Fresh from the gym, I finish my chicken-salad sandwich at my desk and pick up the phone. It’s time to call Elliot. I’ve been putting this off because I know he’ll give me shit.
“Hotshot. What gives?”
“Hello, Elliot. How are you?”
He laughs. “Jesus, man, you sound bored as fuck!”
Why is this so difficult?
“I’m not bored. I’m working. And taking some time out to talk to you.”
“Now you sound pissed.”
“I am.”
“Something I said?” He cackles over the line, and I’m tempted to hang up and try again later.
I take a deep breath. “I need to ask you something.”
“About the new house?”
“No.”
Game on, Grey. Ask him.
“Spit it out, man,” he says when I don’t respond. “This is like waiting for concrete to cure.”
“Will you be my best man?”
There. It’s done. And there’s a deafening silence on the other end of the phone, save for his quick gasp. Shit. Is he going to say no?
“Elliot?”
“Sure,” he says with uncharacteristic brevity. “Um…I’d be honored.” He sounds stunned. Why? Surely he knew this was coming?
“Good. Thank you.” My relief is clear in my voice.
He laughs, and I know my brother has recovered his dickwad humor. “Of course, this means I get to organize your goddamned bachelor party!” He whoops like a deranged gorilla.
Bachelor party? He’s got to be kidding.
“Whatever, Elliot.” An idea pops into my head. “Come over Friday. We can shoot some pool. Ana is spending the evening with Kate.”
“Yeah, I heard. Sure thing. We can talk strippers, and where we’ll leave you handcuffed at the end of a drunken night!”
I laugh, because he has no idea. “We?” I ask.
“I know you have no friends, you fucking recluse. I’ll drum up a posse who know how to party.”
Oh no.
“Let’s talk Friday,” I respond.
“Can’t wait. By the way, have you been in touch with Gia?”
“Yes, I have. Ana and I had a look at her portfolio online. We both liked what we saw. Ms. Matteo was going with the real estate agent to check out the property so that when we meet she knows what we are talking about.”
“I need to see this place, too, hotshot.”
“I know. Let’s do it Friday. After work.”
“Rad. Sounds good.”
“Okay. Laters, Elliot.” An unexpected surge of warmth fills my chest. “And, um…thank you.”
“What are brothers for?”
“So, this is your new office, hotshot.” Elliot strolls through the door, as laid-back as his tone.
“Do you have to call me that, Lelliot?” I stress his nickname and wave him toward my white leather couch.
“It’s what you are. Look at this place.” He waves a hand in the direction of my outer office. Wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and his Aztec jacket from San Diego State, he looks like the proverbial fish out of water here.
I sit down opposite him and notice that his knee is bouncing to a crazy beat and he’s avoiding eye contact.
What the hell? He’s nervous.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this way.
“What is it?” I ask.
He shuffles in his seat and presses his hands together. “I want to start my own construction company.” He blurts out the words in a rush.
Ah! “You’re looking for investment.”
His vibrant blue eyes finally meet mine. “Yes,” he says with a steeliness that surprises me.