“You better!”
“Laters, baby.”
“Laters, Christian. I love you.”
I let her words settle into my heart.
She loves me.
“Are you going to hang up?” she asks.
“No.”
She laughs. “I have to go. I have a meeting and my boss’s boss’s boss…you know.”
“Yeah. He can be an asshole.”
“He can…but he can also be the best of men.”
I’m staring at her portrait on my office wall; her shy, teasing smile is directed at me. My body and my soul stir. This has to be one of the sweetest things she’s ever said to me.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she says, and the line goes dead before I have a chance to respond.
Anastasia Steele, you are the most disarming woman I know. I stare at her photograph, digesting her words, and I know my smile would light up a dark and soulless night.
Feeling inspired, I find the number for Astoria Fine Jewelry and press call. It’s not only rings I need, but a wedding present for my future wife, too.
My meeting with Welch is inconclusive: there is still no lead on the perpetrator, and I’m beginning to believe the sabotage is a figment of my overactive imagination. Welch’s team is drilling down into all ex-employee records of the companies that GEH has acquired to see if he can find something, but we’ve been over this ground and I think he’s grasping at straws. The only potential suspects we had were Hyde and Woods, but Hyde has been discounted, as he’s been in Florida since he was fired, and there’s no evidence that links Woods to the crash, yet.
“I know how exasperating this is for you, Grey,” Welch says, his voice as gruff as ever. “We are keeping an extra-watchful eye on the Gulfstream.”
“I’m wondering if we overreacted to the FAA report.”
“No. We did not. Not where your safety is concerned. We’ll just have to be patient for the NTSB report. I’m expecting it any day.”
“As soon as you have it…” I let the sentence finish itself.
“Yes, sir.”
“In the meantime, please liaise with Taylor. He’s coming with us to oversee our security while we’re on our honeymoon.”
“Will do. And congratulations once again.”
I nod my thanks. “Okay. That’s it. Thanks for coming in.”
Welch rises and we shake hands.
Back at my desk, I check my e-mails.
From: Dr. John Flynn
Subject: FW: For Christian Grey
Date: July 26 2011 14:53
To: Christian Grey
Christian
I received the attached from Leila Williams. We can discuss when I see you on Thursday.
JF
From: Leila Williams
Subject: For Christian Grey
Date: July 26 2011 06:32 EST
To: Dr. John Flynn
Dearest John
Thank you for your continued support. I cannot begin to tell you what it has meant for me. My parents have embraced me back into the fold. I can hardly believe how considerate they’ve been, given all the trouble I’ve caused them. My divorce from my husband should be final next month. At last I’ll be able to move on with my life.
My only regret is that I haven’t been able to thank Mr. Grey in person. Please pass on this note to him. I would really like to deliver my thanks personally. My life could have taken such a bad turn if not for his and your intervention.
Many thanks
Leila
No fucking way. Leila is the last person in the world I want to see. But I’m glad she’s in a better place and healing, and divorcing the cockroach she married. I delete the e-mail and resolve to push her from my mind.
I buzz Andrea. I need coffee. Stat.
It’s late. The sun has sunk beneath the horizon, and I’m staring at a blank screen in my study.
Vows.
Drafting them is trickier than I thought. Everything I write will be spoken aloud in front of our nearest and dearest, and I’m trying to find the words to express to Ana how I feel about her, how excited I am to share our life together, and how honored I am that she’s chosen me.
Damn it. This is hard.
My thoughts stray to earlier this evening, when Ana and I met with Gia Matteo. Gia wanted our feedback on a few ideas for the new house. Her vision is bold: I like the approach, but I’m not sure that Ana is entirely on board. When we eventually see Gia’s drawn-up plans we’ll be able to judge.
Fortunately, the meeting was brief. And she touched me once, that’s all.
Since then, I’ve been attempting to write my vows while Ana’s been on a call with Alondra Gutierrez. They’ve each been working tirelessly on this wedding.
I just hope it will be everything Ana wants. And, frankly, as long as Ana’s happy, I’m happy.
But most of all, I want to keep her safe.
Life without Ana would be unbearable.
A flurry of images flash unwelcome through my brain: Ana at gunpoint in her old apartment; Ana, not Ros, seated beside me as Charlie Tango drops to the ground; Ana lying pale and unmoving on a squalid once-green rug—