“Excuse me,” I say to Ana, and hurry to meet Elena before she makes her way to us.
“Well, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Elena purrs in greeting as she kisses me on both cheeks.
“Good morning, Ma’am. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“My aesthetician called in sick. So, you have been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“I can see. Is that someone new?”
“That is Anastasia Steele.”
Elena beams at Ana, who is watching us intently. She knows that we’re talking about her, and she responds with a lukewarm smile.
Damn.
“Your little southern belle?” Elena asks.
“She’s not southern.”
“I thought you went to Georgia to see her.”
“Her mom lives there.”
“I see. She certainly looks like your type.”
“Yeah.” Let’s not go there.
“Are you going to introduce me?”
Ana is talking to Greta—grilling her, I think. What’s she asking?
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Elena looks disappointed. “Why not?”
“She’s named you Mrs. Robinson.”
“Oh, really? That’s funny. Though I’m surprised someone that young knows the reference.” Elena’s tone is wry. “I’m also astonished you told her about us. What happened to confidentiality?” She taps a scarlet fingernail against her lips.
“She’s not going to talk.”
“I hope so. Look, don’t worry. I’ll back off.” She holds her hands up in surrender.
“Thank you.”
“But is this a good idea, Christian? She’s hurt you once already.” Elena’s face is etched with concern.
“I don’t know. I missed her. She missed me. I’ve decided I’m going to try it her way. She’s willing.”
“Her way? Are you sure you can? Are you sure you want to?”
Ana is still staring at us. She’s alarmed.
“Time will tell,” I answer.
“Well, I’m here if you need me. Good luck.” She gives me a soft but calculated smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Thanks. Are you going to my parents’ soirée this evening?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
She looks momentarily surprised, but says, “Let’s catch up later this week when we can talk more freely.”
“Sure.”
She squeezes my arm and I head back to Ana, who is still waiting by the reception desk. Her face is pinched and her arms are folded across her body as she radiates her displeasure.
This is not good.
“Are you okay?” I ask, knowing full well that she isn’t.
“Not really. You didn’t want to introduce me?” she replies, in a tone that’s both sarcastic and indignant.
Christ. She knows it’s Elena. How? “But I thought—”
Ana interrupts me. “For a bright man, sometimes—” She stops midsentence, too angry to continue. “I’d like to go, please.” She taps her foot against the marble floor.
“Why?”
“You know why,” she snaps, and rolls her eyes as if I’m the biggest idiot she’s ever met.
You are the biggest idiot she’s ever met, Grey.
You know how she feels about Elena.
Everything was going so well.
Make this right, Grey.
“I’m sorry, Ana. I didn’t know she’d be here. She’s never here. She’s opened a new branch at the Bravern Center, and that’s where she’s normally based. Someone was sick today.”
Ana turns abruptly and storms to the door.
“We won’t need Franco, Greta,” I inform the receptionist, annoyed that she may have heard our exchange. Hastily, I go after Ana.
She wraps her arms around herself defensively and marches up the street with her head down. I’m forced to take longer strides to catch up with her.
Ana. Stop. You’re overreacting.
She simply doesn’t understand the nature of Elena’s and my relationship.
As I walk beside her, I’m floundering. What do I do? What do I say? Perhaps Elena is right.
Can I do this?
I’ve never tolerated this kind of behavior from any submissive; what’s more, none of them have been this petulant.
But I hate it when she’s angry with me.
“You used to take your subs there?” she asks, and I don’t know if it’s a rhetorical question or not. I chance a reply.
“Some of them, yes.”
“Leila?”
“Yes.”
“The place looks very new.”
“It’s been refurbished recently.”
“I see. So Mrs. Robinson met all your subs.”
“Yes.”
“Did they know about her?”
Not in the way you’re thinking. They never knew about our D/s relationship. They just thought we were friends. “No. None of them did. Only you.”
“But I’m not your sub.”
“No, you most definitely are not.” Because I certainly wouldn’t indulge this behavior from anyone else.
She stops suddenly and whirls around to face me, her expression bleak. “Can you see how fucked up this is?” she says.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know she was going to be there.
“I want to get my hair cut, preferably somewhere where you haven’t fucked either the staff or the clientele.” Her voice is hoarse and she’s on the verge of tears.
Ana.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turns to go.
“You’re not running. Are you?” Panic starts to well inside me. This is it. She’s out before we’ve even had a second chance.
Grey, you’ve blown it.
“No,” she shouts, exasperated. “I just want a damn haircut. Somewhere I can close my eyes, have someone wash my hair, and I can forget about all this baggage that accompanies you.”
She’s not leaving me. I take a deep breath. “I can have Franco come to the apartment, or your place,” I offer.
“She’s very attractive.”
Christ. Not this. “Yes, she is.” So what? Give it up, Ana.
“Is she still married?”
“No. She got divorced about five years ago.”
“Why aren’t you with her?”
Ana! Let it go. “Because that’s over between us. I’ve told you this.” How many times do I need to tell her? My phone vibrates in my jacket pocket. I hold my finger up to stop her tirade and answer my phone. The caller ID says it’s Welch. I wonder what he has to report.
“Mr. Grey.”
“Welch.”
“Three things. We’ve tracked Mrs. Leila Reed to Spokane, where she’d been living with a man named Geoffrey Barry. He was killed in an auto accident on I-90.”
“Killed in a car crash? When?”
“Four weeks ago. Her husband, Russell Reed, knew about Barry but still won’t disclose where Mrs. Reed has gone.”
“That’s twice that bastard’s not been forthcoming. He must know. Does he have no feelings for her whatsoever?” I’m staggered that her ex could be so heartless.
“He has feelings for her, but they’re certainly not matrimonial.”
“This is beginning to make sense.”
“Did the psychiatrist give you anything to go on?” Welch asks.
“No.”
“Could she be suffering a kind of psychosis?”
I agree with Welch that this might be her condition, but it still doesn’t explain where she is, which is what I really want to know. I look around. Where are you, Leila? “She’s here. She’s watching us,” I mutter.
“Mr. Grey, we’re close. We’ll find her.” Welch tries to reassure me and asks if I’m at Escala.
“No.” I wish Ana and I weren’t so exposed here on the street.
“I’m considering how many people you need for your close protection team.”