“For now.”
“I found him groveling on the floor, sir.”
“Really?”
“Miss Steele appears to know how to defend herself.”
“She’s always full of surprises. Let’s go.”
We follow Hyde out of the building and both of us head to the Audi. Because Ana is already in the front seat, Taylor gives me the key and I slide into the driver’s seat. Taylor gets into the back.
Ana is quiet as I pull out into the traffic.
I don’t know what to say to her.
The car phone rings.
“Grey,” I answer.
“Mr. Grey, Barney here.”
“Barney, I’m on speakerphone, and there are others in the car.”
“Sir, it’s all done. But I need to talk to you about what else I found on Mr. Hyde’s computer.”
“I’ll call you when I reach my destination. And thanks, Barney.”
“No problem, Mr. Grey.” He hangs up and I stop at a red light.
“Are you talking to me?” Ana asks.
I glance at her. “No,” I mutter. I’m still too mad. I told her he was trouble. And I told her to use her phone for e-mail. I was right about everything. I feel vindicated.
Grey, grow up, you’re behaving like a child.
Flynn’s words circle my brain. I’ve long held the belief that you never really had an adolescence—emotionally speaking. I think you’re experiencing it now.
I glance across at her in the hope I can say something amusing, but she’s staring out of the window. I’ll wait until we get home.
OUTSIDE ESCALA, I OPEN Ana’s car door while Taylor climbs into the driver’s seat.
“Come,” I say, and she takes my hand.
While we wait for the elevator, Ana whispers, “Christian, why are you so mad at me?”
“You know why.”
As we enter the elevator, I punch the code into the keypad. “God, if something had happened to you, he’d be dead by now. As it is, I’m going to ruin his career so he can’t take advantage of young women anymore, miserable excuse for a man that he is.” If anything had happened to her…Leila yesterday. Hyde today. Hell.
Slowly she sinks her teeth into her lower lip while staring at me.
“Jesus, Ana!” I pull her to me and twist so that she’s pinned in the corner of the elevator. Tugging her hair, upturning her face, I capture her lips with mine and pour my fear and desperation into my kiss. Her hands grasp my biceps as she returns my kiss, her tongue seeking mine. I pull back and we’re both breathless. “If anything had happened to you. If he’d harmed you—” I shudder. “BlackBerry. From now on. Understand?”
She nods, her expression earnest, and I straighten up and release her. “He said you kicked him in the balls.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Ray is ex-Army. He taught me well.”
“I’m very glad he did. I’ll need to remember that.” As we exit the elevator, I take her hand and we walk through the foyer and into the living room. Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen cooking. It smells good.
“I need to call Barney. I won’t be long.”
Sitting down at my desk, I pick up the phone.
“Mr. Grey.”
“Barney, what did you find on Hyde’s computer?”
“Well, sir, it was a little unsettling. There are articles and photographs of you, your mom and dad, and your brother and sister, all stored in one folder called ‘Greys.’ ”
“That’s odd.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Could you send me what he has?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And keep this between us for now.”
“Will do, Mr. Grey.”
“Thanks, Barney. And go home.”
“Yes, sir.”
Barney’s e-mail arrives almost immediately, and I open the “Greys” folder. Sure enough, there are online articles about my parents and their charitable work; articles on me, my company, Charlie Tango and the Gulfstream; and photographs of Elliot, my parents, and me taken, I assume, from Mia’s Facebook page. And last, two photos of Ana and me—at her graduation and at the photographer’s exhibition.
What the hell would Hyde want with all that shit? It makes no sense. I know he has a thing for Ana, that’s consistent with his modus operandi. But my family? Me? It’s like he’s obsessed with us. Or maybe it’s all about Ana? This is weird. And frankly disturbing. I resolve to call Welch in the morning to discuss. He can investigate further and get me some answers.
I close the e-mail, and sitting in my inbox are a couple of final acquisition agreements from Marco. I need to read them tonight—but first some dinner.
“Evening, Gail,” I call out to her when I’m back in the living room.
“Good evening, Mr. Grey. Dinner in ten, sir?”
Ana is sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of wine. After dealing with that asshole, I think she’s earned it. I’ll join her. I retrieve the open bottle of Sancerre and pour one for myself.
“Sounds good,” I respond to Gail and raise my glass to Ana. “To ex-military men who train their daughters well.”
“Cheers,” she says, but she looks a little crestfallen.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if I still have a job.”
“Do you still want one?”
“Of course.”
“Then you still have one.”
She rolls her eyes, and I smile and take another sip of my wine.
“So, did you talk to Barney?” she asks, as I take a seat beside her.
“I did.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What did Jack have on his computer?”
“Nothing important.”
Mrs. Jones places our food in front of us. Chicken pot pie. One of my favorites.
“Thanks, Gail.”
“Enjoy, Mr. Grey. Ana,” she says pleasantly, and departs.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Ana persists.
“Tell you what?”
She sighs and purses her lips, then takes another bite of her meal.
The contents of Jack’s computer are not something I want Ana to worry about.
“José called,” she says, changing the subject.
“Oh?”
“He wants to deliver your photos on Friday.”
“A personal delivery.” Why is the artist doing this and not the gallery? “How accommodating of him.”
“He wants to go out. For a drink. With me.”
“I see.”
“And Kate and Elliot should be back.”
I put my fork down on my plate. “What exactly are you asking?”
“I’m not asking anything. I’m informing you of my plans for Friday. Look, I want to see José, and he wants to stay over. Either he stays here or he can stay at my place, but if he does, I should be there, too.”
“He made a pass at you.”
“Christian, that was weeks ago. He was drunk, I was drunk, you saved the day—it won’t happen again. He’s no Jack, for heaven’s sake.”