Oh, baby. Tomorrow. Not now.
“In you go,” I order, and it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done: letting her leave knowing that she’s mine for the taking. My body ignores my noble gesture and stiffens in anticipation. I shake my head, amazed as ever by my lust for Ana.
“Laters, baby,” I call after her and, turning toward the street I head to the car, determined not to look back. Once I’m inside the car, I allow myself to look. She’s still there, standing on the doorstep, watching me.
Good.
Go to bed, Ana, I will her. As if she hears me, she closes the door, and Taylor starts the car to head home to Escala.
I lean back in my seat.
What a difference a day makes.
I grin. She’s mine, once more.
I imagine her in her apartment, opening the box. Will she be pissed? Or will she be delighted?
She’ll be pissed.
She never took kindly to gifts.
Shit. Was it a step too far?
Taylor heads into the garage at Escala and we pull into the vacant parking space next to Ana’s A3. “Taylor, will you deliver Miss Steele’s Audi to her place tomorrow?” I hope she will accept the car, too.
“Yes, Mr. Grey.”
I leave him in the garage, doing whatever he does, and head for the elevator. Once inside, I check my phone to see if she has anything to say about the gifts. Just as the elevator doors open and I step into my apartment, there’s an e-mail.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: iPad
Date: June 9 2011 23:56
To: Christian Grey
You’ve made me cry again.
I love the iPad.
I love the songs.
I love the British Library app.
I love you.
Thank you.
Good night.
Ana xx
I grin at the screen. Happy tears, great!
She loves it.
She loves me.
FRIDAY, JUNE 10, 2011
* * *
She loves me.
It’s taken a three-hour car ride for me not to flinch at this thought. But then again, she doesn’t really know me. She doesn’t know what I’m capable of, or why I do what I do. No one can love a monster, no matter how compassionate they are.
I put the thought out of my mind because I don’t want to dwell on the negative.
Flynn would be proud.
Quickly, I type a response to her e-mail.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: iPad
Date: June 10 2011 00:03
To: Anastasia Steele
I’m glad you like it. I bought one for myself.
Now, if I were there, I would kiss away your tears.
But I’m not—so go to sleep.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I want her well rested for tomorrow. I stretch, feeling a contentment that’s entirely unfamiliar, and wander into my bedroom. Looking forward to collapsing into bed, I put my phone on the nightstand and notice there’s another e-mail from her.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Mr. Grumpy
Date: June 10 2011 00:07
To: Christian Grey
You sound your usual bossy and possibly tense, possibly grumpy self, Mr. Grey.
I know something that could ease that. But then, you’re not here—you wouldn’t let me stay, and you expect me to beg…
Dream on, Sir.
Ana xx
P.S.: I also note that you included the Stalker’s Anthem, “Every Breath You Take.” I do enjoy your sense of humor, but does Dr. Flynn know?
And there it is. The Anastasia Steele wit. I have missed it. I sit down on the edge of the bed and compose my reply.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Zen-Like Calm
Date: June 10 2011 00:10
To: Anastasia Steele
My Dearest Miss Steele
Spanking occurs in vanilla relationships, too, you know. Usually consensually and in a sexual context…but I am more than happy to make an exception.
You’ll be relieved to know that Dr. Flynn also enjoys my sense of humor.
Now, please go to sleep, as you won’t get much tomorrow.
Incidentally—you will beg, trust me. And I look forward to it.
Christian Grey
Tense CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I watch my phone, waiting for her reply. I know that she won’t let this go. And, sure enough, her response appears.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Good Night, Sweet Dreams
Date: June 10 2011 00:12
To: Christian Grey
Well, since you ask so nicely, and I like your delicious threat, I shall curl up with the iPad that you have so kindly given me and fall asleep browsing in the British Library, listening to the music that says it for you.
A xxx
She likes my threat? Lord, she’s confusing. Then I remember her squirming in the car while we talked of spanking.
Oh, baby, it’s not a threat. It’s a promise.
I get up and wander into my closet to take off my jacket while I think of something to say.
She wants a softer approach; surely I can think of something.
And then it comes to me.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: One more request
Date: June 10 2011 00:15
To: Anastasia Steele
Dream of me.
x
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Yes. Dream of me. I want to be the only one in her head. Not that photographer. Not her boss. Just me. I change quickly into PJ bottoms and brush my teeth.
As I slip into bed, I check my phone once more, but there’s nothing from Miss Steele. She must be asleep. When I close my eyes it occurs to me that I’ve not thought about Leila all evening. Anastasia has been so diverting, beautiful, funny…
THE RADIO ALARM WAKES me for the first time since she left me. I’ve slept a soundless and dreamless sleep and I awake refreshed. My first thought is of Ana. How is she this morning? Has she changed her mind?
No. Stay positive.
Okay.
I wonder what her morning routine is?
Better.
And I get to see her this evening. I bound out of bed and into my sweats. My run will take me on my usual route to check on her building. But this time, I won’t linger. I’m a stalker no more.
MY FEET POUND THE pavement. The sun is peeping through the buildings as I make my way to Ana’s street. It’s still quiet, but I have the Foo Fighters turned up loud and proud as I run. I wonder if I should be listening to something that’s more in sync with my mood. Maybe “Feeling Good.” Nina Simone’s version.
Too sappy, Grey. Keep running.
I dash past Ana’s building, and I don’t have to stop. I’ll see her later today. All of her. Feeling particularly pleased with myself, I wonder if perhaps we’ll end up here tonight.
Whatever we do, it will be up to Ana. We’re doing this her way.
I run up Wall Street, back home to begin my day.
“GOOD MORNING, GAIL.” Even to my own ears I sound unusually hearty. Gail stops in her tracks in front of the stove and stares at me as if I’ve grown three heads. “I’ll have scrambled eggs and toast this morning,” I add, and wink at her as I head toward my study. Her chin drops, but she says nothing.