fifty shades darker (33 page)

It’s raining outside for the first time in ages, and the light is muted and mellow. I’m cozy and comfortable in this vast modern monolith with Christian at my side. I stretch and turn to the delicious man beside me. His eyes spring open and he blinks sleepily.

“Good morning.” I smile and caress his face, leaning down to kiss him.

“Good morning, baby. I usually wake before the alarm goes off,” he murmurs in wonder. “It’s set so early.”

“That it is, Miss Steele.” Christian grins. “I have to get up.” He kisses me, and then he’s up and out of bed. I flop back against the pillows. Wow, waking up on a school day next to Christian Grey. How did this all happen? I close my eyes and doze.

“Come on, sleepyhead, get up.” Christian leans over me. He’s shaved, clean, fresh—

Hmm, he smells so good
—in a crisp white shirt and black suit, no tie—the CEO is back.

Holy Moses, he looks good like this, too.

“What?” he asks.

“I wish you’d come back to bed.”

His lips part, surprised by my come-on, and he smiles almost shyly. “You are insatiable, Miss Steele. As much as that idea appeals, I have an eight thirty meeting, so I have to go shortly.”

Oh, I’ve slept for another hour or so
. Shit.
I leap out of bed, much to Christian’s amusement.

I shower and dress quickly, wearing the clothes I set out yesterday: a fitted, gray pencil skirt; pale-gray silk shirt; and high-heeled black pumps, all care of my new wardrobe. I brush my hair and carefully put it up, then wander out to the great room, not really knowing what to expect. How am I going to get to work?

Christian is sipping coffee at the breakfast bar. Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen making pancakes and bacon.

“You look lovely,” Christian murmurs. Wrapping an arm around me, he kisses me under my ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mrs. Jones’s smile. I flush.

“Good morning, Miss Steele,” she says as she places pancakes and bacon in front of me. “Oh, thank you. Good morning,” I mumble. Jeez—I could get used to this.

“Mr. Grey says you’d like to take lunch with you to work. What would you like to eat?”

I glance at Christian, who is trying very hard not to smirk. I narrow my eyes at him.

“A sandwich . . . salad. I really don’t mind.” I beam at Mrs. Jones.

“I’ll rustle up a packed lunch for you, ma’am.”

“Please, Mrs. Jones, call me Ana.”

“Ana.” She smiles and turns to make me tea.

Wow . . . this is so cool.

I turn and cock my head at Christian, challenging him—go on, accuse me of flirting with Mrs. Jones.

“I have to go, baby. Taylor will come back and drop you at work with Sawyer.”

“Only to the door.”

“Yes. Only to the door.” Christian rolls his eyes. “Be careful, though.”

I glance around and spy Taylor standing in the entranceway. Christian stands and kisses me, grasping my chin.

“Laters, baby.”

“Have a good day at the office, dear,” I call after him. He turns and flashes me his beautiful smile then he’s gone. Mrs. Jones hands me a cup of tea, and suddenly I feel awkward with just the two of us here.

“How long have you worked for Christian?” I ask, thinking I ought to make some kind of conversation.

“Four years or so,” she says pleasantly, as she sets about making my packed lunch.

“You know, I can do that,” I mutter, embarrassed that she should be doing this for me.

“You eat your breakfast, Ana. This is what I do. I enjoy it. It’s nice to look after someone other than Mr. Taylor and Mr. Grey.” She smiles very sweetly at me.

My cheeks pink with pleasure, and I want to bombard this woman with questions. She must know so much about Fifty, and although her manner is warm and friendly, it’s also very professional. I know I’ll only embarrass both of us if I start quizzing her, so I finish my breakfast in a reasonably comfortable silence, punctuated only by her questions on my food preferences for lunch.

Twenty-five minutes later Sawyer appears at the entrance to the great room. I have brushed my teeth, and I’m waiting to go. Clutching my brown paper lunch bag—I can’t even remember my mom doing this for me—Sawyer and I head to the first floor via the elevator. He’s very taciturn, too, giving nothing away. Taylor is waiting in the Audi, and I climb into the rear passenger seat when Sawyer opens the door.

“Good morning, Taylor,” I say brightly.

“Miss Steele.” He smiles.

“Taylor, I’m sorry about yesterday and my inappropriate remarks. I hope I didn’t get you into trouble.”

Taylor frowns in bemusement at me from the rearview mirror as he pulls out into the Seattle traffic.

“Miss Steele, I’m rarely in trouble,” he says reassuringly.

Oh good. Maybe Christian didn’t tell him off. Just me, then,
I think sourly.

“I’m glad to hear it, Taylor.” I smile.

Jack gazes at me, assessing my appearance, as I make my way to my desk.

“Morning, Ana. Good weekend?”

“Yes, thanks. You?”

“It was good. Get settled in—I have work for you to do.”

I nod and sit down at my computer. It seems like years since I was at work. I switch on my computer and fire up my e-mail program—and of course there’s an e-mail from Christian.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Boss

Date:
June 13, 2011 08:24

To:
Anastasia Steele

Good morning, Miss Steele

I just wanted to say thank you for a wonderful weekend in spite of all the drama.

I hope you never leave, ever.

And just to remind you that the news of SIP is embargoed for four weeks.

Delete this e-mail as soon as you’ve read it.

Yours

Christian Grey,

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. & Your boss’s boss’s boss.

Hope I never leave? Does he want me to move in? Holy Moses . . . I barely know the man.

I press delete.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
Bossy

Date:
June 13, 2011: 09:03

To:
Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

Are you asking me to move in with you? And of course, I remembered that the evidence of your epic stalking capabilities is embargoed for another four weeks. Do I make a check out to Coping Together and send to your dad? Please don’t delete this e-mail. Please respond to it.

ILY xxx

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

“Ana!” Jack makes me jump.

“Yes,” I flush, and Jack frowns at me.

“Everything okay?”

“Sure.” I scramble up and take my notebook into his office.

“Good. As you probably remember, I’m going to that Commissioning Fiction Sympo-sium in New York on Thursday. I have tickets and reservations, but I’d like you to come with me.”

“To New York?”

“Yes. We’ll need to go Wednesday and stay overnight. I think you’ll find it a very educational experience.” His eyes darken as he says this, but his smile is polite. “Would you make the necessary travel arrangements? And book an additional room at the hotel where I am staying? I think Sabrina, my previous PA, left all the details handy somewhere.”

“Okay.” I smile wanly at Jack.

Crap. I wander back to my desk. This is not going to go down well with Fifty—but the fact is, I want to go. It sounds like a real opportunity, and I’m sure I can keep Jack at arm’s length if that’s his ulterior motive. Back at my desk there’s a response from Christian.

From:
Christian Grey

Subject:
Me, Bossy?

Date:
June 13, 2011 09:07

To:
Anastasia Steele

Yes. Please.

Christian Grey,

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Jeez . . . he does want me to move in. Oh, Christian—it’s too soon. I put my head in my hands to try and recover my wits. This is all I need after my extraordinary weekend. I haven’t had a moment to myself to think through and understand all that I have experienced and discovered these last two days.

From:
Anastasia Steele

Subject:
Flynnisms

Date:
June 13, 2011: 09:20

To:
Christian Grey

Christian