The clothes? She doesn’t like them?
“Can I come in?” I ask.
“It’s your closet.”
My closet. Your clothes, Ana.
Slowly I sink to the floor opposite her, trying to gauge her mood. “They’re just clothes. If you don’t like them, I’ll send them back.” I sound resigned rather than conciliatory.
“You’re a lot to take on, you know?”
She’s not wrong. Scratching my unshaved chin, I consider what to say.
Be real. Be truthful. Flynn’s words ring in my head.
“I know. I’m trying,” I reply.
“You’re very trying,” she quips.
“As are you, Miss Steele.”
“Why are you doing this?” She gestures between us.
Her and me.
She and I.
Ana and Christian.
“You know why.” I need you.
“No, I don’t,” she insists.
I scrape my hands through my hair, looking for inspiration. What does she want me to say? What does she want to hear? “You are one frustrating female.”
“You could have a nice brunette submissive. One who’d say, ‘How high?’ every time you said jump, provided of course she had permission to speak. So why me, Christian? I just don’t get it.”
What should I tell her? Because I’ve woken up since I met her? Because my whole world has changed. It’s rotating on a different axis. “You make me look at the world differently, Anastasia. You don’t want me for my money. You give me…” I search for the word. “Hope.”
“Hope for what?”
Everything.
“More,” I answer. It’s what Ana wanted. And now I want it, too.
Give her your whole pitch, Grey.
I tell her she’s right. “I’m used to women doing exactly what I say, when I say, doing exactly what I want. It gets old. There’s something about you, Anastasia, which calls to me on some deep level I don’t understand. It’s a siren’s call. I can’t resist you, and I don’t want to lose you.”
Whoa. Flowery, Grey.
I take her hand. “Don’t run, please. Have a little faith in me and a little patience. Please.”
And it’s there in her sweet smile. Her compassion. Her love. I could bask in that look all day. Every day. She places her hands on my knees, surprising me, and leans up to plant a kiss on my lips. “Okay. Faith and patience, I can live with that,” she says.
“Good. Because Franco’s here.”
She flips her hair over her shoulder. “About time!” Her girlish laugh is infectious, and together we stand.
Hand in hand, we make our way downstairs and I think we might be over whatever was making her mad.
FRANCO MAKES AN EMBARRASSING fuss over my girl. I leave them in my bathroom. I’m not sure Ana would appreciate me micromanaging a haircut.
Heading back to my study, I feel tension in my shoulders. I feel it everywhere. This morning has been out of my control, and though she says she’s going to try faith and patience, I’ll have to see if she’s as good as her word.
But Ana has never given me a reason to doubt her.
Except when she left.
And she hurt me…
I dismiss the dark thought and quickly check my e-mails. There’s one from Flynn.
* * *
From: Dr. John Flynn
Subject: Tonight
Date: June 11 2011 13:00
To: Christian Grey
Christian
Are you attending your parents’ benefit this evening?
JF
I respond immediately.
* * *
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tonight
Date: June 11 2011 13:15
To: Dr. John Flynn
Good afternoon, John.
I am indeed, and I’ll be accompanied by Miss Anastasia Steele.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I wonder what he’ll make of that. I think it’s the first time I’ve really followed his advice—and I am trying my relationship with Ana her way.
So far, so confusing.
I shake my head and retrieve the spreadsheets I printed out and a couple of bound reports I have to read about the shipping business in Taiwan.
I’M LOST IN THE figures for SIP. They are hemorrhaging money. Their overhead is too high, their write-offs are astronomical, their production costs are rising, and their staff—
A movement out of the corner of my eye distracts me.
Ana.
She stands at the entrance of the living room, twisting one foot inward and looking awkward and shy. She’s staring anxiously at me, and I know she’s seeking my approval.
She’s stunning. Her hair a glossy mane.
“See! I tell you he like it.” Franco has followed her into the living room.
“You look lovely, Ana,” I say, and my compliment induces a fetching flush on her cheeks.
“My work ’ere is done,” Franco says, clapping his hands.
It’s time to see him out.
“Thank you, Franco,” I say, and attempt to direct him out of my living room. He grabs Ana and kisses her on both cheeks in a rather dramatic display of affection. “Never let anyone else be cutting your hair, bellissima Ana!”
I glare at him until he lets her go. “This way,” I say to get him out.
“Mr. Grey, she is a jewel.”
I know.
“Here.” I hand him three hundred dollars. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”
“It was a pleasure. A real pleasure.” He pumps my hand, and not a moment too soon Taylor appears to escort him to the foyer.