Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
“Controlling” is my middle name, Ana. I think I’ve told you this already, along with “unreasonable” and “weird.”
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: The Answer is NO
Date: June 13 2011 10:50
To: Anastasia Steele
Ana
I have seen how “effective” you are at fighting off unwanted attention. I remember that’s how I had the pleasure of spending my first night with you. At least the photographer has feelings for you. The sleazeball, on the other hand, does not. He is a serial philanderer, and he will try to seduce you. Ask him what happened to his previous PA and the one before that.
I don’t want to fight about this.
If you want to go to New York, I’ll take you. We can go this weekend. I have an apartment there.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
She doesn’t reply immediately, and I distract myself with phone calls.
Welch has nothing new on Leila. We discuss whether or not to involve the police at this stage; I’m still reluctant to do it.
“She’s close, Mr. Grey,” Welch says.
“She’s clever. She’s managed to evade us so far.”
“We’re watching your place, SIP, Grey House. She won’t slip past us again.”
“I hope she doesn’t. And thanks for the report on Hyde.”
“You’re welcome. I can dig deeper if you wish.”
“It’s fine for now. But I may get back to you.”
“Okay, sir.”
“Bye.” I hang up.
My phone buzzes before I’ve let go of the receiver. “I have your mother on the line,” Montana chirps in a singsong voice.
Shit. That’s all I need. I’m still a little pissed at my mom and her comment about Ana being after my money.
“Put her through,” I mutter.
“Christian, darling,” Grace says.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Darling, I just wanted to apologize for what I said on Saturday. You know I think the world of Ana, it’s just…all of this is so sudden.”
“It’s fine.” But it’s not fine.
She’s quiet for a moment and I think she’s doubting the sincerity of my response.
However, I’m already arguing with one woman in my life; I don’t want to argue with another. “Grace?”
“Sorry, darling. It’s your birthday on Saturday and we wanted to organize a party.”
On my computer screen an e-mail from Ana appears.
“Mom, I can’t talk now. I have to go.”
“Okay, call me.” She sounds melancholy, but I don’t have time for her right now.
“Yes. Sure.”
“Bye, Christian.”
“Bye.” I hang up.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: FW Lunch date or Irritating Baggage Date: June 13 2011 11:15
To: Christian Grey
Christian
While you have been busy interfering in my career and saving your ass from my careless missives, I received the following e-mail from Mrs. Lincoln. I really don’t want to meet with her—even if I did, I am not allowed to leave this building. How she got hold of my e-mail address, I don’t know. What would you suggest I do? Her e-mail is below: Dear Anastasia, I would really like to have lunch with you. I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to make that right. Are you free sometime this week?
Elena Lincoln
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
Oh, this day just gets better and better. What the hell is Elena doing now? And Ana is calling me out on my shit as usual.
I didn’t know arguing could be so tiresome. And discouraging. And worrying. She’s mad at me.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Irritating Baggage
Date: June 13 2011 11:23
To: Anastasia Steele
Don’t be mad at me. I have your best interests at heart.
If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.
I’ll deal with Mrs. Lincoln.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Irritating baggage? I smile for the first time since I left Ana this morning. She has a way with words.
I call Elena.
“Christian,” she answers on the fifth ring.
“Do I have to get a banner and attach it to a plane and fly it over your office?”
She laughs. “My e-mail?”
“Yes, Ana sent it to me. Please. Leave her alone. She doesn’t want to see you. And I understand and respect that. You’re making my life really difficult.”
“You understand her?”
“Yes.”
“I think she needs to know how hard you are on yourself.”
“No. She doesn’t need to know anything.”
“You sound exhausted.”
“I’m just tired of you going behind my back and chasing my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Yes. Girlfriend. Get used to it.”
She sighs long and hard.
“Elena. Please.”
“Okay, Christian, it’s your funeral.”
What the fuck?
“I have to go,” I answer.
“Good-bye,” she says, and she sounds annoyed.
“Bye.” I hang up.
The women in my life are vexing. I turn in my chair and stare out of the window. The rain is relentless. The sky is dark and drab, reflecting my mood. Life has become complicated. It used to be easier when everything and everyone stayed where I placed them, in their designated compartments. Now, with Ana, everything’s changed. This is all new, and so far everyone, including my mother, seems to be pissed at me or pissing me off.
When I turn to face my computer there’s another e-mail from Ana.
* * *
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Laters
Date: June 13 2011 11:32
To: Christian Grey
Can we please discuss this tonight?
I am trying to work, and your continued interference is very distracting.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
Okay. I’ll leave you alone.
What I really want to do is go over to her office and take her somewhere splendid for lunch. But I don’t think she’d appreciate that.
With a heavy sigh, I open the e-mail that lists Andrea’s bridal registry. Pots, pans, dishes—nothing appeals to me. And again I wonder why she didn’t tell me about her nuptials.
Feeling morose, I call Flynn’s office and make an appointment to see him later this afternoon. It’s overdue. Then I summon Montana and ask her to go and buy me a wedding card and some lunch. Surely she can’t screw that up.
AS I’M EATING MY lunch, Taylor calls.
“Taylor.”
“Mr. Grey, everything’s okay.”
My heart goes into overdrive as adrenaline powers through my body.
Ana.
“What is it? Is Ana okay?”
“She’s fine, sir.”
“Do you have news on Leila?”
“No, sir.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m just letting you know that Ana went to the deli on Union Square. She’s back in the office. She’s fine.”
“Thank you for letting me know. Anything else?
“The Saab will be here this afternoon.”
“Great.” I put the phone down and try, really try, not to be mad as hell. I fail. She told me she’d stay put.
Leila could put a bullet through her.
Doesn’t she understand that?
I call her.
“Jack Hyde’s office—”