We walk around to the front of the house. Ana runs her hands up and down her arms. “Are you warm enough?” I ask.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I really enjoyed this evening, Anastasia. Thank you.”
“Me, too…Some parts more than others.” And clearly she’s thinking about our tryst in my childhood bedroom.
“Don’t bite your lip,” I warn.
“What did you mean about a big day tomorrow?” she asks. I tell her that Dr. Greene will make a house call and that I have a surprise for her.
“Dr. Greene?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate condoms.”
“It’s my body,” she grumbles.
“It’s mine, too,” I whisper.
Ana. Please. I. Hate. Them.
Her eyes shine in the soft glow of paper lanterns that are strung up over the front yard, and I wonder if she’s going to continue this argument. She raises her hand, and I still. She tugs the corner of my bow tie, and it unravels. With gentle fingers, she undoes the top button of my shirt. Fascinated, I watch her, and stay rooted to the ground.
“You look hot like this,” she says quietly, surprising me.
I think she’s moved on from Dr. Greene. “I need to get you home. Come.”
The Q7 pulls up, and the valet gets out and gives the keys to Taylor. One of our security guys, Sawyer, hands me an envelope. It’s addressed to Ana.
“Where did this come from?” I ask him.
“One of the servers gave it to me, sir.”
Is it from an admirer? The handwriting seems familiar. Taylor ushers Ana into the car and I slide in beside her, handing her the note. “It’s addressed to you. One of the staff gave it to Sawyer. No doubt from yet another ensnared heart.”
Taylor follows the line of cars out of my parents’ driveway. Ana rips the envelope open and casts her eyes over the note inside.
“You told her?” she exclaims.
“Told who what?”
“That I call her Mrs. Robinson.”
“It’s from Elena? This is ridiculous.” I told Elena to leave Ana alone. Why is she ignoring me? And what has she said to Ana? What the hell is her problem? “I’ll deal with her tomorrow. Or Monday.” I want to read the note, but Ana doesn’t give me the opportunity. She stuffs it in her purse but fishes out the kegel balls.
“Until next time,” she says, handing them back to me.
Next time?
Now, that is good news. I squeeze her hand and she returns the gesture as she stares out of the window into the darkness.
Midway across the 520 bridge, she’s asleep. I take a moment to relax. So much has happened today. I’m tired, so I put my head back and close my eyes.
Yeah. It’s been quite a day.
Ana and the check. Her bad temper. Her willfulness. The lipstick. The sex.
Yes. The sex.
And of course I will have to deal with my mother’s anxiety and her offensive concern that Ana is an opportunist who’s after my fortune.
And then there’s Elena, interfering, behaving badly. What the hell am I going to do about her?
I look at my image reflected in the car window. The sallow, ghoulish figure stares back at me and disappears only when we exit I-5 onto a well-lit Stewart Street. We are close to home.
Ana is still asleep when we pull up outside. Sawyer jumps out of the car and opens my door.
“Do I need to carry you in?” I ask Ana, squeezing her hand. She wakes and sleepily shakes her head. With Sawyer in front of us, keeping vigil, we walk into the building together as Taylor takes the car into the garage.
Ana leans on me in the elevator and closes her eyes.
“It’s been a long day, eh, Anastasia?”
She nods.
“Tired?”
She nods.
“You’re not very talkative,” I observe.
She nods once more, making me smile.
“Come. I’ll put you to bed.” My fingers curl around hers, and we follow Sawyer out of the elevator and into the foyer. Sawyer halts in front of us and holds up his hand. I tighten my grip on Ana’s fingers.
What the hell?
“Will do, T,” Sawyer says, and turns to face us. “Mr. Grey, the tires on Ms. Steele’s Audi have been slashed and paint thrown all over it.”
Ana gasps.
What?
My immediate thought is that some mindless vandal has broken into the garage…then I remember Leila.
What the hell has she done?
Sawyer continues. “Taylor is concerned that the perp may have entered the apartment and may still be there. He wants to make sure.”
How can anyone be in the apartment?
“I see. What’s Taylor’s plan?”
“He’s coming up in the service elevator with Ryan and Reynolds. They’ll do a sweep, then give us the all-clear. I’m to wait with you, sir.”
“Thank you, Sawyer.” I tighten my hold on Ana. “This day just gets better and better.” There’s no way Leila could be in the apartment. Is there?
And I recall those moments when I thought I saw something move at the periphery of my vision…and when I woke because I thought someone had ruffled my hair, only to find Ana fast asleep beside me. A shiver of doubt runs down my spine.
Shit.
If Leila’s here, I need to know. I don’t think she’ll hurt me. I kiss Ana’s hair. “Listen, I can’t stand here and wait. Sawyer, take care of Miss Steele. Don’t let her in until you have the all-clear. I’m sure Taylor is overreacting. She can’t get into the apartment.”
“No, Christian.” Ana tries to stop me, her fingers clasping my lapels. “You have to stay with me.”
“Do as you’re told, Anastasia. Wait here.” I sound sterner than I mean to, and she releases me. “Sawyer?” He’s standing in my way, uncertain. I raise a brow, and after a moment’s hesitation he opens the double doors into the apartment and lets me go through. He closes them behind me.
In the hallway outside the living room it’s dark and quiet. I stand and listen, straining my ears for anything unusual. All I hear is the sigh of the wind as it wraps itself around the building, and the hum of the electrical appliances from the kitchen. Far below in the street there’s a police siren, but apart from that, Escala is still and quiet, as it should be.
If Leila were here, where would she go?
My first thought is the playroom, and I’m about to dash upstairs when there’s a rumble and a ping from the service elevator, and Taylor and the two other security guys spill out into the corridor wielding guns, as if they’re in some macho action movie.
“Are those strictly necessary?” I ask Taylor, who’s leading the charge.
“We’re taking the necessary precautions, sir.”
“I don’t think she’s here.”
“We’ll do a quick sweep.”
“Okay,” I reply, resigned. “I’ll check upstairs.”
“I’ll come with you, Mr. Grey.” I suspect that Taylor is being unduly concerned for my safety.
He issues swift instructions to the other two and they scatter to search the apartment. I switch on all the lights so that the living room and corridor are well lit and bright, and I head upstairs with Taylor.