I do, Ana.
But only because I’m fucking you.
Memories of her tied to her little white bed, slick and sticky with ice cream, me attempting to chop peppers, her calling me an ass, float into my head. I glance at my glider. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to obey, because she thinks I’m an ass.
Grey. Enough.
Doubt is an ugly, futile feeling.
This is my new mantra. Flynn said our dispute was a small setback. All relationships have them. She’s moved in with me, and we’re getting married in less than three weeks. What more do I want?
Damn. I wish we were married already. The wait is shredding my nerves. I don’t want her to change her mind. She’s been quiet this weekend. We were busy moving her stuff into the apartment, and she’s been knee-deep in wedding preparations.
She’s just tired.
Stop with the negative, Grey.
Focus on the matter in hand.
I pick up the phone and call Sam.
“Christian.”
Sometimes it really grates on my nerves when he uses my first name. In an arctic tone I inform him, “I’ve sent you a revised, less wordy press release. Brevity is everything. Try and remember that.”
“As you wish, Mr. Grey.”
Good. Point made.
“And, Sam, delete the price and put ‘undisclosed sum.’”
“Will do.”
I hang up and turn to my computer. I’m hoping some e-mail banter with my fiancée will improve my disposition and hers.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: The Ultimate Consumer. Consuming.
Date: July 11 2011 08:43
To: Anastasia Steele
My darling Anastasia
I was reminiscing about the day you found out I had purchased SIP. I believe you called me an ass, when I was merely exercising my rights as a citizen of our fine country to purchase whatever I please. As the Ultimate Consumer (again, your epithet) I am informing you that the news of my most recent acquisition is no longer embargoed and a press release will be issued today.
I’m so glad you’ve moved in.
I slept well last night knowing you were there.
I love you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Entrepreneur, not an ass, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Boss or Bossy
Date: July 11 2011 08:56
To: Christian Grey
My dearest husband-to-be
You were an ass (I stand by that appellation) and my boss’s boss’s boss. I remember that we enjoyed a thoroughly entertaining and sticky evening. Perhaps a helping of ice cream this evening? It is so warm out…
I love you back. Very much.
I’m preparing an agenda for our meeting this evening with Alondra about final preparations!
Any last-minute requests?
Are you still happy for the rehearsal dinner to take place at Escala?
Anastasia Steele
Acting Editor, Fiction, SIP
From: Christian Grey
Subject: How Many Times!
Date: July 11 2011 08:59
To: Anastasia Steele
My darling Anastasia
Let’s make it a short service.
I’m impatient for you to be mine.
Yes, to Escala. Fewer prying eyes there.
Oh, and BLACKBERRY!!!
AND BEN & JERRY’S & ANA.
My favorite dessert.
Christian Grey
Bossy CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Uber Bossy
Date: July 11 2011 09:02
To: Christian Grey
Oh fiddle-dee-dee Mr. Grey.
It’s my favorite dessert too.
Ana x
I smile. Now she’s quoting Gone with the Wind at me. She seems happy enough. I shake my head and summon Andrea, my disposition much improved.
Thank you, Miss Steele.
Mid-morning, Andrea puts Darius Jackson from the Port of Ephrata through.
“Good morning, Christian.”
“Darius, it’s good to hear your voice. Has she arrived?” Suddenly I’m ten years old again, and it’s Christmas. I can barely contain my excitement.
“She has, Mr. Grey, and she’s a beauty.”
“Have you put her together?”
“Working on it now. I’ll send you some photographs when she’s complete.”
“I can’t wait to see her.”
“I have the registration ready, and I’m wondering if you want me to take her up for a test flight, or if you’d like to do that.”
“No. Take her up. Let me know how she handles.”
“I’d be delighted to. When can we expect you?”
“I’ll try and get up there this weekend. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. I’ll get back to her. I don’t like to leave a lady waiting.” He chuckles, hangs up, and I laugh.
Me neither, Darius, unless she’s misbehaved…
I sigh. Perhaps Ana and I can go soaring this weekend.
Ana is subdued during dinner, picking at her risotto.
Maybe she’s having second thoughts?
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing. It was just a long day.”
My anxiety simmers. There’s something she’s not telling me. “Sawyer told me there were paparazzi outside your building,” I prompt.
“We left via the loading bay. We managed to avoid them.”
So, it’s not the continual harassment from the fourth estate that’s bugging her. What is it? I try a different tack. “What did you do today?”
She snorts. “I spent most of the day on the phone with authors, trying to soften the blow of the news.”
I almost spit out my food. What the hell!
She laughs at my expression, her reaction immediately lifting my spirits.
“Yes, big business exploiting artistic endeavor,” she clarifies.
“Ah.”
“Roach called the senior editorial team together this morning to give us all the news of your takeover. Of course, I knew already, when everyone else was in the dark. It was strange. It set me apart…you know.”