Lovers? Leila? Susannah? Madison? Each of my submissives comes to mind.
“No. They were sexual partners. You’re my only lover. And I want you to be more.”
“I know. I just need some time, Christian. To get my head around these last few days.”
I look over at her.
Why didn’t she say that earlier?
I can live with that.
Of course I can give her some time.
I’d wait until time stands still, for her.
I RELAX AND ENJOY the drive. We’re in the suburbs of Seattle, but heading west toward the Sound. I think I’ve timed this appointment just right and we’ll catch the sunset over Puget Sound.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“Surprise.”
She gives me a curious smile and turns to take in our surroundings through the window.
Ten minutes later I spy the corroded white metal gates that I recognize from the photograph I’ve seen online. I pull in at the bottom of an impressive driveway and punch the security code into the keypad. With a creaky groan, the heavy gates swing open.
I glance at Ana.
Will she like this place?
“What is it?” she asks.
“An idea.” I steer the Saab through the gates.
The driveway is longer than I thought. To one side there’s an overgrown meadow. It’s big enough to install a tennis court or basketball court—or both.
“Hey bro, let’s shoot some hoops.”
“Elliot, I’m reading.”
“Reading is not going to get you laid.”
“Fuck off.”
“Hoops. Come on, man,” he whines.
Reluctantly, I abandon my tattered copy of Oliver Twist and follow him out to the yard.
ANA LOOKS STUNNED AS we arrive at the grand entrance portico and I park beside a BMW sedan. The house is sprawling and actually quite imposing from the outside.
I cut the engine, and Ana’s baffled.
“Will you keep an open mind?” I ask.
She arches a brow. “Christian, I’ve needed an open mind since the day I met you.”
And I can’t disagree. She’s right. As ever.
The realtor is waiting inside the large vestibule. “Mr. Grey.” She greets me warmly and we shake hands.
“Miss Kelly.”
“Olga Kelly,” she announces to Ana.
“Ana Steele,” she responds.
The realtor steps aside. The house smells a little musty from what must be months of disuse. But I’m not here to look at the interior. “Come.” I direct Ana and take her hand. Having studied the floor plans at length I know where I want to go and how to get there. I lead her from the vestibule through an archway into an inner hallway, past a grand staircase, and into what was once the main living room.
There are several open French doors on the far side, which is great because the place needs airing. Tightening my hold on Ana’s hand, I take her through the nearest door, onto the terrace outside.
The view is every bit as arresting and dramatic as the photographs suggested: the Sound in all its glory at dusk. Already there are lights twinkling from the distant shores of Bainbridge Island, where we sailed last weekend, and beyond that, the Olympic Peninsula.
There is so much sky and the sunset is astounding.
Ana and I stand hand in hand and stare, enjoying the spectacular view. Her face is radiant. She loves it.
She turns to look at me. “You brought me here to admire the view?”
I nod.
“It’s staggering, Christian. Thank you,” she says, and stares once more at the opal sky.
“How would you like to look at it for the rest of your life?” My heart starts hammering.
This is one hell of a pitch, Grey.
Her face whips to mine. She’s startled.
“I’ve always wanted to live on the coast,” I explain. “I sail up and down the Sound, coveting these houses. This place hasn’t been on the market long. I want to buy it, demolish it, and build a new house—for us.”
Her eyes grow impossibly large.
“It’s just an idea,” I whisper.
She looks over her shoulder into the old living room. “Why do you want to demolish it?” she asks.
“I’d like to make a more sustainable home, using the latest ecological techniques. Elliot could build it.”
“Can we look around the house?”
“Sure.” I shrug. Why does she want to look around?
I follow Ana and the realtor as she gives us the tour. Olga Kelly is in her element as she takes us through the numerous rooms, describing the features of each. Why Ana wants to see the whole house is a mystery to me.
As we file up the sweeping staircase, she turns to me. “Couldn’t you make the existing house more ecological and self-sustaining?”
This house?
“I’d have to ask Elliot. He’s the expert in all this.”
Ana likes this house.
Keeping the house wasn’t what I had in mind.
The realtor takes us into the master suite. It has full-height windows opening onto a balcony that looks out at the spectacular view. We both pause for a moment and stare at the darkening sky, and the last traces of the sun that can still be seen. It’s a glorious vista.