I check my inbox and find a welcome e-mail from Ana.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 12:53 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
I am once again ensconced in first class, for which I thank you. I am counting the minutes until I see you this evening and perhaps torturing the truth out of you about my nocturnal admissions.
Your Ana x
Torturing me? Oh, Miss Steele, I think it will be the other way around. As I have a great deal to do, I keep my reply short.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 09:58
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia, I look forward to seeing you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
But Ana is not satisfied.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 13:01 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dearest Mr. Grey,
I hope everything is okay re “the situation.” The tone of your e-mail is worrying.
Ana x
At least I still earned a kiss. Surely she should be airborne by now?
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 10:04
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia,
The situation could be better. Have you taken off yet? If so, you should not be e-mailing. You are putting yourself at risk, in direct contravention of the rule regarding your personal safety. I meant what I said about punishments.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I’m about to call Welch for an update, but there’s a ping—Ana again.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Overreaction
Date: June 3 2011 13:06 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grumpy,
The aircraft doors are still open. We are delayed but only by ten minutes. My welfare and that of the passengers around me is vouchsafed. You may stow your twitchy palm for now.
Miss Steele
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. Mr. Grumpy, eh? And no kiss. Oh dear.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Apologies—Twitchy Palm Stowed
Date: June 3 2011 10:08
To: Anastasia Steele
I miss you and your smart mouth, Miss Steele.
I want you safely home.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Apology Accepted
Date: June 3 2011 13:10 EST
To: Christian Grey
They are shutting the doors. You won’t hear another peep from me, especially given your deafness.
Laters.
Ana x
My kiss is back. Well, that’s a relief. Grudgingly, I drag myself away from the computer screen and pick up my phone to call Welch.
AT ONE O’CLOCK I decline Andrea’s offer of lunch at my desk. I need to get out. The walls of my office are closing in on me, and I think it’s because there’s been no news about Leila.
I’m worried about her. Hell, she came to see me. She decided to use my home as her stage. How could I not take this personally? Why didn’t she e-mail me or phone? If she was in trouble, I could have helped. I would have helped—I’ve done it before.
I need some fresh air. I march past Olivia and Andrea, who both look busy, though I catch Andrea’s puzzled look as I step into the elevator.
Outside, it’s a bright, bustling afternoon. I take a deep breath and detect the soothing tang of salt water from the Sound. Perhaps I should take the rest of the day off? But I can’t. I have a meeting with the mayor this afternoon. It’s irritating—I’m seeing him tomorrow at the Chamber of Commerce gala.
The gala!
Suddenly I have an idea, and with a renewed sense of purpose I head toward a small store I know.
AFTER MY MEETING AT the mayor’s office, I walk the ten or so blocks back to Escala; Taylor has gone to collect Ana from the airport. Gail is in the kitchen when I enter the living room.
“Good evening, Mr. Grey.”
“Hi, Gail. How was your day?”
“Good, thank you, sir.”
“Feeling better?”
“Yes, sir. The clothes arrived for Miss Steele—I unpacked them and hung them in the closet in her room.”
“Great. No sign of Leila?” Dumb question: Gail would have called me.
“No, sir. This also arrived.” She holds up a small red store bag.
“Good.” I take the bag from her, ignoring the delighted twinkle in her eye.
“How many for supper this evening?”
“Two, thanks. And Gail—”
“Sir?”
“Can you put the satin sheets on the playroom bed?”
I really hope to get Ana in there at some point over the weekend. “Yes, Mr. Grey,” she says, her tone a little surprised. She turns back to whatever she’s conjuring in the kitchen, leaving me a little baffled by her behavior.
Maybe Gail doesn’t approve, but it’s what I want from Ana.
In my study I take the Cartier box from its bag. It’s a present for Ana, which I’ll give to her tomorrow in time for the gala: a pair of earrings. Simple. Elegant. Beautiful. Just like her. I smile; even in her chucks and jeans she has a certain gamine charm.
I hope she accepts my gift. As my submissive, she’d have no choice, but under our alternative arrangement, I don’t know what her reaction will be. Whatever the outcome, it will be interesting. She always surprises me. As I put the box in my desk drawer a ping on my computer distracts me. Barney’s latest tablet designs are in my inbox, and I’m eager to see them.
Five minutes later, Welch calls.
“Mr. Grey,” he wheezes.
“Yes. What news?”
“I spoke with Russell Reed, Mrs. Reed’s husband.”
“And?” Immediately I’m agitated. I storm out of my study and across the living room to the windows.
“He says his wife is away visiting her parents,” Welch reports.
“What?”
“Precisely.” Welch sounds as pissed as I am.
Seeing Seattle at my feet, knowing Mrs. Reed aka Leila Williams is out there somewhere, increases my irritation. I rake my fingers through my hair.
“Maybe that’s what she told him.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But we’ve found nothing so far.”
“No trace?” I can’t believe she could just disappear.
“Nothing. But if she so much as uses an ATM, cashes a check, or logs in to her social media, we’ll find her.”
“Okay.”
“We’d like to scour the CCTV footage from around the hospital. It’s going to cost money and take a little longer. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes.” A tingle prickles my scalp—not from the call. For some unknown reason I sense I’m being watched. Turning, I see Ana standing on the threshold of the room, scrutinizing me, her brow furrowed and her lips pensive, and she’s wearing a short, short skirt. She’s all eyes and legs…especially legs. I imagine them wrapped around my waist.