What the hell would Hyde want with all that shit? It makes no sense. I know he has a thing for Ana, that’s consistent with his modus operandi. But my family? Me? It’s like he’s obsessed with us. Or maybe it’s all about Ana? This is weird. And frankly disturbing. I resolve to call Welch in the morning to discuss. He can investigate further and get me some answers.
I close the e-mail, and sitting in my inbox are a couple of final acquisition agreements from Marco. I need to read them tonight—but first some dinner.
“Evening, Gail,” I call out to her when I’m back in the living room.
“Good evening, Mr. Grey. Dinner in ten, sir?”
Ana is sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of wine. After dealing with that asshole, I think she’s earned it. I’ll join her. I retrieve the open bottle of Sancerre and pour one for myself.
“Sounds good,” I respond to Gail and raise my glass to Ana. “To ex-military men who train their daughters well.”
“Cheers,” she says, but she looks a little crestfallen.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if I still have a job.”
“Do you still want one?”
“Of course.”
“Then you still have one.”
She rolls her eyes, and I smile and take another sip of my wine.
“So, did you talk to Barney?” she asks, as I take a seat beside her.
“I did.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What did Jack have on his computer?”
“Nothing important.”
Mrs. Jones places our food in front of us. Chicken pot pie. One of my favorites.
“Thanks, Gail.”
“Enjoy, Mr. Grey. Ana,” she says pleasantly, and departs.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Ana persists.
“Tell you what?”
She sighs and purses her lips, then takes another bite of her meal.
The contents of Jack’s computer are not something I want Ana to worry about.
“José called,” she says, changing the subject.
“Oh?”
“He wants to deliver your photos on Friday.”
“A personal delivery.” Why is the artist doing this and not the gallery? “How accommodating of him.”
“He wants to go out. For a drink. With me.”
“I see.”
“And Kate and Elliot should be back.”
I put my fork down on my plate. “What exactly are you asking?”
“I’m not asking anything. I’m informing you of my plans for Friday. Look, I want to see José, and he wants to stay over. Either he stays here or he can stay at my place, but if he does, I should be there, too.”
“He made a pass at you.”
“Christian, that was weeks ago. He was drunk, I was drunk, you saved the day—it won’t happen again. He’s no Jack, for heaven’s sake.”
“Ethan’s there. He can keep him company.”
“He wants to see me, not Ethan,” Ana says.
I scowl at her.
“He’s just a friend,” she continues.
She’s already endured Hyde—what if Rodriguez gets drunk and tries his luck again with Ana? “I don’t like it.”
Ana takes a deep breath; she’s trying to keep her cool. “He’s my friend, Christian. I haven’t seen him since his show. And that was too brief. I know you don’t have any friends, apart from that god-awful woman, but I don’t moan about you seeing her.”
What has Elena got to do with this? And I’m reminded that I haven’t responded to her texts.
“I want to see him,” she continues. “I’ve been a poor friend to him.”
“Is that what you think?” I ask.
“Think about what?”
“Elena. You’d rather I didn’t see her?”
“Exactly. I’d rather you didn’t see her.”
“Why didn’t you say?”
“Because it’s not my place to say. You think she’s your only friend.” She’s exasperated. “Just as it’s not your place to say if I can or can’t see José. Don’t you see that?”
She has a point. If he stays here, then he can’t make a pass at her. Can he?
“He can stay here, I suppose. I can keep an eye on him.”
“Thank you! You know, if I am going to live here, too…” Her voice trails off.
Yes. She’ll need to invite her friends here. Jesus. I hadn’t thought about that.
“It’s not like you haven’t got the space.” She waves a hand in the general direction of my apartment.
“Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?”
“Most definitely, Mr. Grey.” She gets up and clears both of our plates.
“Gail will do that,” I say as she sashays over to the dishwasher. But I’m too late.
“I’ve done it now.”
“I have to work for a while.”
“Cool. I’ll find something to do.”
“Come here.”
She steps between my legs and puts her arms around my neck. I hold her close against me. “Are you okay?” I whisper into her hair.
“Okay?”
“After what happened with that fucker? After what happened yesterday?” I lean back and study her expression.
“Yes,” she replies, solemn and emphatic.
To try to reassure me?
I tighten my arms around her. What a weird couple of days this has been. Too much too fast, maybe. And my old life impinging on my new one. She still hasn’t responded to my marriage proposal. Perhaps I shouldn’t push her for an answer right now.
She holds me close and, for the first time since this morning, I feel calm and centered. “Let’s not fight.” I kiss her hair. “You smell heavenly as usual, Ana.”
“So do you.” She kisses my neck.
Reluctantly, I release her and stand. I have to read those agreements. “I should only be a couple of hours.”
MY EYES ARE TIRED. I rub my face and pinch the bridge of my nose, and glance out of the window. It’s getting dark, but I’ve finished going through both documents. I’ve made notes and forwarded them to Marco.
Now it’s time to find Ana.
Maybe she’d like to watch TV or something. I loathe TV, but I’d sit with her and watch a film.
I expect to find her in the library, but she’s not there.
Maybe she took a bath?
No. She’s not in the bedroom or the ensuite.
I decide to check the sub’s room but on my way there I notice that the playroom door is open. Looking inside, I see Ana is sitting on the bed, gazing with distaste at all the canes. With a grimace she looks away.
I should get rid of them.
I lean against the doorframe in silence and watch her. She slips from the bed onto the couch, her hands running over the soft leather. She spies the chest of drawers, rises, makes her way toward it, and opens the top drawer.
Well, this is unexpected.
From the chest, she pulls out a large butt plug and, fascinated, examines it, then tests the weight in her hand. It’s a little big for a newcomer to anal pleasure, but I’m mesmerized by her captivated expression. Her hair is a little damp and she’s wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt.
No bra.
Nice.
Glancing up, she spots me by the door. “Hi,” she says, all breathy and nervous.
“What are you doing?”
She blushes. “Um, I was bored and curious.”
“That’s a very dangerous combination.” I wander into the room to join her. Leaning over, I glance at the open drawer to see what else is inside. “So, what exactly are you curious about, Miss Steele? Perhaps I could enlighten you.”
“The door was open,” she says hastily. “I—” She stops, looking guilty.
Put her out of her misery, Grey.
“I was in here earlier today, wondering what to do with it all. I must have forgotten to lock it.”
“Oh?”
“But now here you are, curious as ever.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”