“Oh!” She looks upset. “We’re at home, Christian. No one but the staff.”
I don’t want to upset her. I nod as graciously as I can manage and she turns and heads back to the kitchen.
Grey, get a grip.
The next call I have to make is to Ana’s father. I have no idea what he’s going to say when I ask him for his daughter’s hand in marriage. From Ana’s file, I get Ray’s mobile number. José said he was fishing. I just hope he’s somewhere with a signal.
No. He isn’t. The call goes to voice mail. “Ray Steele. Leave a message.”
Short and to the point.
“Hi, Mr. Steele, it’s Christian Grey here. I’d like to talk to you about your daughter. Please call me.” I give him my number and hang up.
What did you expect, Grey?
He’s in the wilds of the Mount Baker Park.
While I have Ana’s file on my desk, I decide to deposit some money into her bank account. She’ll have to get used to having money.
“Twenty-four thousand dollars!”
“Twenty-four thousand dollars, to the lovely lady in silver, going once, going twice. Sold!”
I chuckle, remembering her audacity at the auction. I wonder what she’ll make of this. I’m sure it will be an interesting discussion. On my computer, I transfer fifty thousand dollars to her account. It should show up within the hour.
My stomach growls. I’m hungry. But my phone starts ringing. It’s Ray. “Mr. Steele. Thank you for calling back—”
“Is Annie okay?”
“She’s fine. More than fine. She’s great.”
“Thank the Lord. What can I do for you, Christian?”
“I know you’re fishing.”
“I’m trying. Not catching much today.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” This is more nerve-racking than I anticipated. My palms are sweating and Mr. Steele says nothing, cranking my anxiety up a notch.
Supposing he says no? This is not something I’ve considered.
“Mr. Steele?”
“I’m still here, Christian, waiting for you to get to the point.”
“Yes. Of course. Um. I called because, um, I’d like your permission to marry your daughter.” The words tumble out like I’ve never negotiated or clinched a deal in my life. What’s more, they’re met with a resounding silence.
“Mr. Steele?”
“Put my daughter on the line,” he says, giving nothing away.
Shit.
“Just a minute.” I dart out of my study to where Ana is waiting, and hold out the phone to her. “I have Ray for you.”
Her eyes widen with shock. She takes the phone and covers the mouthpiece. “You told him!” she squeaks.
I nod.
She takes a deep breath, and removes her hand from the mouthpiece. “Hi, Dad.”
She listens.
She seems calm.
“What did you say?” she asks, and listens again, her eyes on me. “Yes. It is sudden. Hang on.” She gives me another unreadable look and heads to the other end of the room and out onto the balcony, where she continues her conversation.
She starts pacing up and down, but she stays close to the window.
And I’m helpless. All I can do is watch her.
Her body language gives nothing away. Suddenly, she stops and beams. Her smile could light Seattle. He’s either said yes…or no.
Hell.
Damn it, Grey. Stop with the negative.
She says something else. And she looks like she’s going to cry.
Shit. That’s not good.
She stomps back and she shoves the phone at me, looking several shades of pissed off.
Nervously, I put the phone to my ear. “Mr. Steele?” Feeling Ana’s gaze on my back, I wander into my study just in case it’s bad news.
“Christian, I think you ought to call me Ray. Sounds like my little girl is crazy about you and I’m not one to get in her way.”
Crazy about you. My heart flips and soars.
“Well, thank you, sir.”
“You hurt her in any way and I’ll kill you.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
“Crazy kids,” he mutters. “Now you take good care of her. Annie is my light.”
“She’s mine, too…Ray.”
“And good luck with telling her mother.” He laughs. “Now let me get back to my fishing.”
“I hope you top the forty-three-pounder.”
“You know about that?”
“José told me.”
“He’s a talkative guy. Good day, Christian.”
“It is now.” I grin.
“I HAVE YOUR STEPFATHER’S rather begrudging blessing,” I announce to Ana in the kitchen. She laughs and shakes her head.
“I think Ray is freaked out,” she says. “I’ve got to tell my mom. But I’d like to do that on a full stomach.” She waves in the direction of the counter where our food is waiting. Salmon, potatoes, salad, and an interesting dip. She’s also selected some wine. A Chablis. “Well, this looks great.” I open the wine and pour us each a small glass.
“Damn, you’re a good cook, woman.” I raise my glass to Ana in appreciation. Her lighthearted expression fades and I’m reminded of the expression on her face outside the playroom this morning. “Ana? Why did you ask me not to take your photo?”
Her consternation deepens, worrying me. “Ana, what is it?” My tone is sharper than I intended and she jumps.
“I found your photos,” she says, as if she’s committed some terrible sin.
What photos? But as I say the words, I realize exactly what she’s talking about. And I feel like I’m back in my father’s study, waiting for a pompous dressing-down for some infraction I’ve committed.
“You’ve been in the safe?” How the hell did she do that?
“Safe? No. I didn’t know you had a safe.”
“I don’t understand.”
“In your closet. The box. I was looking for your tie, and the box was under your jeans. The ones you normally wear in the playroom…Except today.”
Fuck.
No one should see those photographs. Especially Ana. How did they get there?
Leila.
“It’s not what you think. I’d forgotten all about them. That box had been moved. Those photographs belong in my safe.”
“Who moved them?” Ana asks.
“There’s only one person who could have done that.”
“Oh. Who? And what do you mean it’s not what I think?”
Confess, Grey.
You’ve already alluded to the depths of your depravity.
This is it, baby. Fifty shades.
“This is going to sound cold, but—they’re an insurance policy.”
“Insurance policy?”
“Against exposure.”
I watch her face as she realizes what I mean. “Oh.” She closes her eyes as if she’s trying to erase what I’ve told her. “Yes. You’re right,” she says quietly. “That does sound cold.” She stands and starts to clear the dishes; it’s to avoid me.
“Ana.”
“Do they know? The girls. The subs?”
“Of course they know.”
Before she can escape to the sink, I fold her into my arms. “Those photos are supposed to be in the safe. They’re not for recreational use.”
They were once upon a time, Grey.
“Maybe they were when they were taken originally. But—they don’t mean anything.”
“Who put them in your closet?”
“It could only have been Leila.”