She sticks her chin out in that obstinate way she does. I choose to ignore it.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I add. “Your car arrived a day early. It’s in the garage. Taylor has the key.”
Her eyes light up. “Can I drive it tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
Leila. Do I have to spell it out?
“And that reminds me,” I continue. “If you’re going to leave your office, let me know. Sawyer was there, watching you. It seems I can’t trust you to look after yourself at all.”
“Seems I can’t trust you, either,” she says. “You could have told me Sawyer was watching me.”
“Do you want to fight about that, too?” I ask.
“I wasn’t aware we were fighting. I thought we were communicating,” she replies, glaring at me.
I close my eyes, struggling to keep my temper. This is getting us nowhere. “I have to work.” I walk out, leaving her sitting on the bed, before I say something I’ll regret.
All these questions.
If she doesn’t like the answers, why does she ask me?
Elena is pissed, too.
I sit down at my desk and already there’s an e-mail from her.
* * *
From: Elena Lincoln
Subject: Tonight
Date: June 13 2011 21:16
To: Christian Grey
Christian
I’m sorry. I don’t know what possessed me to come over.
I feel that I’m losing you as a friend. That’s all.
I value your friendship and advice so much.
I wouldn’t be where I am without you.
Just know that.
Ex
ELENA LINCOLN
ESCLAVA
For The Beauty That Is You™
I think she’s also telling me that I wouldn’t be where I am without her. And that’s true.
She grabs a handful of my hair, tugging my head back.
“What do you want to tell me?” she purrs, icy blue eyes boring into mine.
I’m broken. My knees are sore. My back is covered in welts. My thighs ache. I can’t take any more. And she’s looking directly into my eyes. Waiting.
“I want to leave Harvard, Ma’am,” I say. And it’s a dark confession. Harvard had always been a goal. For me. For my folks. Just to show them I could do it. Just to prove to them I wasn’t the fuckup they thought I was.
“Leave? School?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She lets go of my hair and swings the flogger from side to side.
“What will you do?”
“I want to start my own business.”
She runs a scarlet fingernail down my cheek, to my mouth. “I knew something was bothering you. I always have to beat it out of you, don’t I?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Get dressed. Let’s talk about this.”
I shake my head. Now is not the time to think about Elena. I turn to other e-mails.
WHEN I LOOK UP, it’s ten thirty.
Ana.
I’ve been lost in the final SIP contract. I wonder if I should make it a condition of sale to get rid of Hyde, but that might be actionable.
I get up, stretch, and head into the bedroom.
Ana’s not there.
She wasn’t in the living room. I run upstairs to the submissive’s room, but it’s empty. Shit.
Where could she be? Library?
I hurtle back down the stairs.
I find her curled up asleep in one of the wing-backed library chairs. She’s dressed in pale pink satin, her hair spilling down over her chest. On her lap is an open book.
Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca.
I smile. My grandfather Theodore’s family comes from Cornwall, hence my Daphne du Maurier collection.
I lift Ana into my arms. “Hey. You fell asleep. I couldn’t find you.” As I kiss her hair she puts her arms around my neck and says something I don’t understand. I carry her through to my bedroom and tuck her into bed.
“Sleep, baby.” Softly I kiss her forehead and head for the shower.
I want to wash this day off my body.
TUESDAY, JUNE 14, 2011
* * *
Suddenly I’m awake; my heart is pounding and a deep unease tightens my gut. I’m lying naked beside Ana, and she’s fast asleep. Lord, I envy her ability to sleep. My bedside light is still on, the clock reads 1:45, and I cannot shake my disquiet.
Leila?
I dart into my closet and drag on pants and a T-shirt. Back in the bedroom I check under the bed. The balcony door is locked. I hurry down the corridor to Taylor’s office. The door is open, so I knock and look in. Ryan stands, surprised to see me. “Good evening, sir.”
“Hi, Ryan. Everything okay?”
“Yes, sir. All’s quiet.”
“Nothing on the—” I point to the CCTV monitors.
“Nothing, sir. The place is secure. Reynolds just did a walk-through.”
“Good. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Grey.”
I shut his door and go into the kitchen for a glass of water. Looking out across the living room toward the windows and the darkness beyond, I take a sip.
Where are you, Leila?
I see her in my mind’s eye, head bowed. Willing. Waiting. Wanting. Kneeling in my playroom, asleep in her room, kneeling by my side as I work in my study. And now for all I know she’s wandering the streets of Seattle, cold and lonely and acting crazy.