Fifty Shades Darker

And it strikes me like a thunderbolt - that's what he needs from me, what he's entitled to - unconditional love. He never received it from the crack whore - it's what he needs.

Can I love him unconditionally? Can I accept him for who he is regardless of his revelations last night?

I know he's damaged, but I don't think he's irredeemable. I sigh, recalling Taylor's words. "He's a good man, Miss Steele. "

I've seen the weighty evidence of his goodness - his charity work, his business ethics, his generosity - and yet he doesn't see it in himself. He doesn't feel deserving of any love.

Given his history and his predilections, I have an inkling of his self-loathing - that's why he's never let anyone in. Can I get past this?

He said once that I couldn't begin to understand the depths of his depravity. Well, he's told me now, and given the first few years of his life, it doesn't surprise me. Though it was still a shock to hear it out loud. At least he's told me - and he seems happier now that he has. I know everything.

Does it devalue his love for me? No, I don't think so. He's never felt this way before and neither have I. In truth we've both come so far.

Tears prick and pool in my eyes as I recall his final barriers crumbling last night when he let me touch him. Jeez, it took Leila and all her crazy to get us to there.

Perhaps I should be grateful. The fact that he bathed her is not quite such a bitter taste on my tongue now. I wonder which clothes he gave her. I hope it wasn't the plum dress. I liked that.

So can I love this man with all his issues unconditionally? Because he deserves nothing less. He still needs to learn boundaries and little things like empathy, and to be less controlling. He says he no longer feels the compulsion to hurt me; perhaps Dr. Flynn will be able to cast some light on that.

Fundamentally, that's what concerns me most - that he needs that and has always found like-minded women who need it, too. I frown. Yes, this is the reassurance I need. I want to be all things to this man, his Alpha and his Omega and all things in between because he is to me.

I hope Flynn will have the answers, and maybe then I can say yes. Christian and I can find our own slice of heaven close to the sun.

I gaze out at bustling, lunchtime Seattle. Mrs. Christian Grey - who would have thought? I glance at my watch. Shit! I leap up from my seat and dash to the door - a whole hour of just sitting - where did the time go? Jack is going to go ballistic!

I slink back to my desk. Fortunately, he's not in his office. It looks like I've got away with it. I gaze intently at my computer screen, unseeing, trying to reassemble my thoughts into work mode.

"Where were you?"

I jump. Jack is standing, arms folded, behind me.

"I was in the basement, photocopying," I lie. Jack lips press into a thin, uncompromising line.

"I'm leaving for my plane at six thirty. I need you to stay until then."

"Okay." I smile as sweetly as I can manage.

"I'd like my itinerary for New York printed out and photocopied ten times. And get the brochures packaged up. And get me some coffee!" he snarls and stalks into his office.

I breathe a sigh of relief and stick my tongue out at him as he closes the door. Bastard.

At four o'clock, Claire rings from reception.

"I have Mia Grey for you."

Mia? I hope she doesn't want to hang at the mall.

"Hi, Mia!"

"Ana, hi. How are you?" Her excitement is stifling.

"Good. Busy today. You?"

"I am so bored! I need to find something to do, so I'm arranging a birthday party for Christian."

Christian's birthday? Jeez, I had no idea. "When is it?"

"I knew it. I knew he wouldn't tell you. It's on Saturday. Mom and Dad want everyone over for a meal to celebrate. I'm officially inviting you."

"Oh, that's lovely. Thank you, Mia."

"I've already called Christian and told him, and he gave me your number here."

"Cool." My mind is in a flat spin - what the hell am I going to get Christian for his birthday? What do you buy the man who has everything?

"And maybe next week, we can go out one lunchtime?"

"Sure. How about tomorrow? My boss is away in New York."

"Oh, that would be cool, Ana. What time?"

"Say, twelve forty-five?"

"I'll be there. Bye, Ana."

"Bye." I hang up.

Christian. Birthday. What on earth should I get him?

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Antediluvian

Date: June 15, 2011 16:11

To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

When, exactly, were you going to tell me?

What shall I get my old man for his birthday?

Perhaps some new batteries for his hearing aid?

A x

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Prehistoric

Date: June 15, 2011 16:20

To: Anastasia Steele

Don't mock the elderly.

Glad you are alive and kicking.

And that Mia has been in touch.

Batteries are always useful.

I don't like celebrating my birthday.

x

Christian Grey,

Deaf as a Post CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Hmmm.

Date: June 15, 2011 16:24

To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

I can imagine you pouting as you wrote that last sentence.

That does things to me.

A xox

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Rolling Eyes

Date: June 15, 2011 16:29

To: Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele

WILL YOU USE YOUR BLACKBERRY!!!

x

Christian Grey

Twitchy Palmed, CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I roll my eyes. Why is he so touchy about e-mails?

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Inspiration

Date: June 15, 2011 16:33

To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

Ah... your twitchy palms can't stay still for long, can they?

I wonder what Dr. Flynn would say about that?

But now I know what to give you for your birthday - and I hope it makes me sore...

;)

A x

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Angina

Date: June 15, 2011 16:38

To: Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele

I don't think my heart could stand the strain of another e-mail like that, or my pants for that matter.

Behave.

x

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Trying

Date: June 15, 2011 16:42

To: Christian Grey

Christian

I am trying to work for my very trying boss.

Please stop bothering me and being trying yourself.

Your last e-mail nearly made me combust.

xPS: Can you collect me at 6:30?

From: Christian Grey

Subject: I'll Be There

Date: June 15, 2011 16:38

To: Anastasia Steele

Nothing would give me greater pleasure.

Actually, I can think of any of number of things that would give me greater pleasure, and they all involve you.

x

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I flush reading his response and shake my head. E-mail banter is all well and good, but we really need to talk. Perhaps once we've seen Flynn. I put my Blackberry down and finish my petty cash reconciliation.

By six fifteen, the office is deserted. I have everything ready for Jack. His cab to the airport is booked, and I just have to hand him his documents. I glance anxiously through the glass, but he's still deep in his telephone call, and I don't want to interrupt him - not in the mood he's in today.

As I wait for him to finish, it occurs to me that I have not eaten today. Oh shit, that's not going to go down well with Fifty. I quickly skip down to the kitchen to see if there are any cookies left.

As I'm opening the communal cookie jar, Jack appears unexpectedly in the kitchen doorway, startling me.

Oh. What's he doing here?

He stares at me. "Well, Ana, I think this might be a good time to discuss your misdemeanors." He steps in, closing the door behind him, and my mouth instantly dries as alarm bells ring loud and piercing in my head.

Oh f*ck.

His lips twitch into a grotesque smile, and his eyes gleam a deep, dark cobalt. "At last, I have you on your own," he says, and he slowly licks his lower lip.

What?

"Now... are you going to be a good girl and listen very carefully to what I say?"

Jack's eyes flash the darkest blue, and he sneers as he casts a leering look down my body.

Fear chokes me. What is this? What does he want? From somewhere deep inside and despite my dry mouth, I find the resolve and courage to squeeze out some words, my self-defense class keep-them-talking mantra circling my brain like an ethereal sentinel.

"Jack, now might not be a good time for this. Your cab is due in ten minutes, and I need to give you all your documents." My voice is quiet but hoarse, betraying me.

He smiles, and it's a despotic f*ck-you smile that finally touches his eyes. They glint in the harsh fluorescent glow of the strip light above us in the drab windowless room. He takes a step toward me, glaring at me, his eyes never leaving mine. His pupils are dilating as I watch - the black eclipsing the blue. Oh no. My fear escalates.

"You know I had to fight with Elizabeth to give you this job..." His voice trails off as he takes another step toward me, and I step back against the dingy wall cupboards. Keep-him-talking, keep-him-talking, keep-him-talking.

"Jack, what exactly is your problem? If you want to air your grievances, then perhaps we should ask HR to get involved. We could do this with Elizabeth in a more formal setting."Where is security? Are they in the building yet?

"We don't need HR to overmanage this situation Ana," he sneers. "When I hired you, I thought you would be a hard worker. I thought you had potential. But now, I don't know.

You've become distracted and sloppy. And I wondered... is it your boyfriend who's leading you astray?" He says boyfriend with chilling contempt.

"I decided to check through your e-mail account to see if I could find any clues. And you know what I found, Ana? What was out of place? The only personal e-mails in your account were to your hot-shot boyfriend." He pauses, assessing my reaction. "And I got to thinking... where are the e-mails from him? There are none. Nada. Nothing. So what's going on, Ana? How come his e-mails to you aren't on our system? Are you some company spy, planted in here by Grey's organization? Is that what this is?"

Holy shit, the e-mails. Oh no. What have I said?

"Jack, what are you talking about?" I try for bewildered, and I'm pretty convincing.

This conversation is not going as I expected, but I don't trust him in the slightest. Some subliminal pheromone that Jack is exuding has me on high alert. This man is angry, volatile, and totally unpredictable. I try to reason with him.

"You just said that you had to persuade Elizabeth to hire me. So how could I be planted as a spy? Make up your mind, Jack."

"But Grey f*cked the New York trip, didn't he?"

Oh shit.

"How did he manage that, Ana? What did your rich, Ivy League boyfriend do?"

What little blood remains in my face drains away, and I think I'm going to faint. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jack," I whisper. "Your cab will be here shortly.

Shall I fetch your things?" Oh please, let me go. Stop this.

Jack continues, enjoying my discomfort. "And he thinks I'd make a pass at you?" He smirks and his eyes heat. "Well, I want you to think about something while I'm in New York. I gave you this job, and I expect you to show me some gratitude. In fact, I'm entitled to it. I had to fight to get you. Elizabeth wanted someone better qualified, but I - I saw something in you. So, we need to work out a deal. A deal where you keep me happy. D'you understand what I'm saying, Ana?"

F*ck!

"Look at it as refining your job description, if you like. And if you keep me happy, I won't dig any further into how your boyfriend is pulling strings, milking his contacts, or cashing in some favor from one of his Ivy League frat-boy sycophants."

My mouth drops open. He's blackmailing me. For sex! And what can I say? News of Christian's takeover is embargoed for another three weeks. I can barely believe this. Sex -

with me!

Jack moves closer until he's standing right in front of me, staring down into my eyes.

His cloying sweet cologne invades my nostrils - it's nauseating - and if I'm not mistaken, the bitter stench of alcohol is on his breath. F*ck, he's been drinking... when?

"You are such a tight-assed, cock-blocking, prick tease, you know, Ana," he whispers through clenched teeth.

What? Prick tease... Me?

"Jack, I have no idea what you're talking about," I whisper, as I feel the adrenaline surge through my body. He's closer now. I am waiting to make my move. Ray will be proud. Ray taught me what to do. Ray knows his self-defense. If Jack touches me - if he even breathes too close to me - I will take him down. My breath is shallow. I must not faint, I must not faint.

"Look at you." He gives me a leering look. "You're so turned on, I can tell. You've really led me on. Deep down you want it. I know."

Holy f*ck. The man is completely delusional. My fear rises to defcon one, threatening to overwhelm me. "No, Jack. I have never led you on."

"You have, you prick-teasing bitch. I can read the signs." Reaching up, he gently strokes my face with the back of his knuckles, down to my chin. His index finger strokes my throat, and my heart leaps into my mouth as I fight my gag reflex. He reaches the dip at the base of my neck, where the top button of my black shirt is open, and presses his hand against my chest.

"You want me. Admit it, Ana."

Keeping my eyes firmly fixed on his and concentrating on what I have to do - rather than my mushrooming revulsion and dread - I place my hand gently over his in a caress.

He smiles in triumph. I grab his little finger, and twist it back, pulling it sharply down backward to his hip.

"Arrgh!" he cries out in pain and surprise, and as he leans off balance, I bring my knee, swift and hard, up into his groin, and make perfect contact with my goal. I dodge deftly to my left as his knees buckle, and he collapses with a groan onto the kitchen floor, grasping himself between his legs.

"Don't you ever touch me again," I snarl at him. "Your itinerary and the brochures are packaged on my desk. I am going home now. Have a nice trip. And in the future, get your own damn coffee."

"You f*cking bitch!" he half screams, half groans at me, but I am already out the door.

I run full pelt to my desk, grab my jacket and my purse, and dash to front reception, ignoring the moans and curses emanating from the bastard still prostrate on the kitchen floor.

I burst out of the building and stop for a moment as the cool air hits my face, take a deep breath, and compose myself. But I haven't eaten all day, and as the very unwelcome surge of adrenaline recedes, my legs give out beneath me and I sink to the ground.

I watch with mild detachment the slow motion movie that plays out in front of me: Christian and Taylor in dark suits and white shirts, leaping out of the waiting car and running toward me. Christian sinks to his knees at my side, and on some unconscious level, all I can think is: He's here. My love is here.

"Ana, Ana! What's wrong?" He scoops me into his lap, running his hands up and down my arms, checking for any signs of injury. Grabbing my head between his hands, he stares with wide, terrified, gray eyes into mine. I sag against him, suddenly overwhelmed with relief and fatigue. Oh, Christian's arms. There is no place I'd rather be.

"Ana." He shakes me gently. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

I shake my head as I realize I need to start communicating.

"Jack," I whisper, and I sense rather than see Christian's swift glance at Taylor, who abruptly disappears into the building.

"F*ck!" Christian enfolds me in his arms. "What did that sleazeball do to you?"

And from somewhere just the right side of crazy, a giggle bubbles in my throat. I recall Jack's utter shock as I grabbed his finger.

"It's what I did to him." I start giggling and I can't stop.

"Ana!" Christian shakes me again, and my giggling fit ceases. "Did he touch you?"

"Only once."

I feel Christian's muscles bunch and tense as rage sweeps through him, and he stands up swiftly, powerfully - rock steady - with me in his arms. He's furious. No!

"Where is that f*cker?"

From inside the building we hear muffled shouting. Christian sets me on my feet.

"Can you stand?"

I nod.

"Don't go in. Don't, Christian." Suddenly my fear is back, fear of what Christian will do to Jack.

"Get in the car," he barks at me.