CHAPTER 2

The late night had delayed him getting to his morning workout, so the children were already well into breakfast when Christian strode into the kitchen. Teddy and Phoebe were wrapped in aprons and stood at the stove helping to make pancakes with Gail Taylor, while Darcey was picking around in a bowl of Cheerios. William sat in his high chair waiting patiently for the toast that was cooling on the side. Christian poured himself some coffee.

"Good morning, Mr Grey, would you like some pancakes?" Mrs Taylor helped Teddy to dispense more of the batter onto the hot plate. "We have a little production line going," she smiled.

Christian took a sip of his coffee and walked over. "Yes please, Mrs Taylor."

"How many, daddy?" asked Phoebe. She was already dressed. The rest of the children were still in their pyjamas. Christian peered over his daughter's shoulder as she slowly and carefully flipped a pancake.

"Three, please," he kissed her hair. Phoebe tilted her head back with a grin and he planted another kiss on her forehead. He clapped a hand on Teddy's shoulder as he dispensed another measure of batter onto the hotplate. "Expertly done," he commended, raising a broad smile from his son. Elsewhere in the house a phone rang and was quickly intercepted, probably by Taylor. Christian glanced at the clock. It was just after eight. Ted had to be at soccer practice by nine and Phoebe and Darcey at their dance class for nine thirty. Ana and he usually took turns at taking the children to their activities on Saturday morning and this week it was his turn to take the girls. Taylor would most likely stand in for Ana, whose turn it would have been to stand on the touchline and cheer on Ted. Christian spread the toast with a little butter and cut it up into bits. He sat down next to his baby son and placed it in front of him. Will's eyes lit up and he immediately grabbed the piece that Christian held out to him. He smiled at his son's enthusiasm for food. It faltered when he looked over at Darcey. The other children ate well, but his younger daughter's lack of interest in food unsettled him.

"Darcey, would you like something else?" She would have asked for Cheerios, she always did, and then ate very few.

"Ice cream?"

Christian chuckled. "Not for breakfast, pumpkin. Would you like a pancake?"

She shook her head.

"Some toast?"

She shook her head again.

"We have some bacon," said Gail, trying to make it sound exciting. Darcey thought for a moment and then wrinkled her nose and shook her head again. She dribbled a spoonful of milk back into the cereal bowl.

With Ted and Phoebe sat around the table, Mrs Taylor placed the pancakes in front of Christian and Will became wide-eyed at the prospect of more food. Darcey stared in disgust as Phoebe covered her pancakes with syrup and tucked in. She looked over at her Daddy.

Christian pointed at his plate. "Would you like to share mine?"

This got a response and sliding off her chair Darcey walked around the table and wriggled onto his lap, nibbling on a small piece of plain pancake. Christian wrapped an arm around her waist and pooling his own syrup in the far corner of the plate, dipped his pancakes in as he ate. Will's hopefulness was rewarded with his own piece and Darcey helped herself to more un-syruped pancake. Gail took pity on him.

"Would you like another one, Mr Grey?"

"Yes please," he said, parting with yet more pancake, but glad that Darcey was eating something.

Taylor was hovering by the door, later, as the children left the kitchen. There was a look of concern on his face.

Christian went to pour himself more coffee. "Is something the matter?"

Gail wiped Will's fingers and face.

"Yes," Taylor said with quiet seriousness. "Have you seen the news this morning?"

"No?"

Taylor took a deep breath and instinctively Christian closed the gap between them. "That was Mrs McDowell on the phone," he whispered. "There was…um..." Taylor was uncharacteristically searching for words. Gail joined them.

"What's happened?" she asked, drying her hands on her apron.

Taylor's mouth moved but words didn't immediately come out.

"Jason?" His wife pressed.

"Sir, Faye Silvestri was murdered last night."

There was silence from all of them but finally Christian managed to speak. His reply more of a breath than a word.

"How?"

"She was strangled."

A shout and the slam of a door upstairs failed to move Christian as he absorbed the shocking news.

"At the hotel?"

"Yes. There was some unexplained noise from her room… which… they investigated and um… well… Dr Collins did what she could, but…" he shook his head. "She couldn't revive her. The women are with the Police now, giving statements." He paused for a moment. "And…"

"So will I," finished Christian, acknowledging the inevitable.

"Yes. They will need to fully account for her movements last night. Mrs McDowell told me that you… ran into them."

Christian exhaled. "Yes, I did." He left his second cup of coffee untouched. "You'd better set it up." Christian stared unseeing at a place on the floor.

"Yes, sir."

"I'll call Ana," Christian added.

"Would you like me to inform Prescott?"

Christian nodded.

"Daddy!" Came the shout from Darcey, upstairs. "I can't find my shoes!"

"Unsurprising, given the mess in there," muttered Christian. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Take the girls to dance class, as usual," said Gail. "I'll take Teddy and William."

"Thank you."

Gail lifted William out of his chair.

"Would you like me to contact Mrs Silvestri's husband and express your condolences?" asked Taylor.

Christian pursed his lips. "No," he said quietly. "I don't think he knew that we were acquainted."

"The Police are probably going to ask how the other women knew her." Her husband's question produced an understanding look of concern on Gail's face.

Christian gave an uneasy acknowledgement. "I know," he sighed. "Did Susannah say that she'd call back?"

"No, but I'm sure that she will when she has the opportunity."

"Let's hope the Seattle Police know how to be discreet."

"Daddy!" Darcey called again.

"On my way!" he replied and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The Red Audi Owner's Club seemed like a good idea at the time."

Gail touched his arm. "They may have come up with another reason to explain why they'd gotten together. Lots of women meet up for a weekend away. My sister's college friends do it all the time."

Christian smiled as he reached over and grasped Will's hand. He brought it up to his lips and kissed the palm of it. Gail's comment was well-meaning, but it wasn't going to happen. "True, but I met them last night. One of the security guards at Grey Plaza saw them all in my shower and we took a photograph together."

Gail's mouth fell open. "What?"

"Not in the shower," he added quickly. Not that it made a scrap of difference. Christian threw up his hands. He was at a loss. "Again, it seemed like a good idea at the time." He sighed.

Darcey wandered back into the kitchen. She hadn't even started to get dressed, yet and she held out a hair tie to him. "And I can't do my hair."

He scooped her up and turned to Jason. "Do your best to keep a lid on this."

"I will, Mr Grey."

"Thank you. OK, pumpkin," he said mussing up her curls. "Let's go and find your shoes and braid your hair."

The print newspapers had gone to press too late to carry it, but there were ample news reports online. Christian sat in the line of parents at the side of Darcey's dance class flicking through each article. Not that he read them after the first couple. None of them had acquired an image of Faye yet. In front of him, fifteen little girls dressed in identical pink leotards, pink ballet shoes and white crossover wrap cardigans learned today's routine. Their efforts failed to engage him, though, lost as he was in thoughts of murder and what he was going to say to Susannah about the collar. A discreet necklace he could have worked around. Such a thick chain and a padlock screamed what it was and he was uncomfortable with that aspect of her and Scott's relationship being so publicly visible. He had kept his subs unmarked and saw no reason to ever draw attention to them.

"So you drew the short straw for today," a sultry voice broke into his thoughts. Christian turned to see a casually dressed, but immaculate blonde-haired woman beside him. "The weekly torture of dance class," she smiled flashing too many teeth. "Pleased to meet you," she extended her hand. "I'm Cassidy's mom. But you can call me Sloan." He shook her hand. "You're Darcey's dad?"

"Yes," he replied but added nothing further. Something about this woman set him on edge.

"You're Christian Grey, right?"

"Indeed."

"I recognised you," the over-toothed smile gave a brief return.

He merely quirked an eyebrow in response and turned his attention to Darcey who was putting her heart and soul into the dance as she did every week. He'd wound and pinned her braided hair into a bun and wrapped a pink band around it to meet the dance school's exacting requirements about presentation. It was something he found remarkably pleasing.

"Awful news," she said, pointing at the article about Faye Silvestri's death that was displayed on his iPad. He closed the cover.

"Yes," he replied, unwilling to engage in conversation about it.

"I hope they catch her killer."

"So do I," he said, stressing a truth and feeling a pulse of anger spike through him. He would make discreet enquiries to make sure that the investigation was given priority and that everything was done to support her grieving husband and their two children. Their youngest was not even as old as Will.

"As Cassidy and Darcey get on so well, I wanted to invite her over this afternoon?"

Christian had never heard Ana or Darcey herself mention a particular friendship with Cassidy. He declined.

"Thank you, but we already have plans for today."

"Of course," said Sloan, her cheeks turning pink. "Maybe another time?"

"Maybe," said Christian. He may have been married for ten years but he was still well aware of when a woman was hitting on him. He rested his left hand on the case of his iPad, displaying his wedding ring.

"I don't suppose you have a lot of time to do normal things like this?"

Christian turned to give his full attention to her. "On the contrary, my wife and I make our children a priority." He stressed the word 'wife' in an effort to subtly convey the desire that she fuck off. He was in no mood for inane chatter. He glanced at the clock on the wall. There were only five minutes left.

"Some of the girls and I are going for coffee afterward. Would you like to join us?"

"Thank you, but I have to get back." The buzz of his cellphone provided a welcome diversion. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. It was Taylor. "Excuse me, I need to take this." Christian walked out of the class and placed the phone to his ear. "Taylor, remind me to give you a raise."

"Thank you sir," said Taylor. "Did I just rescue you from something, or someone?"

"You did. What's up?"

"Nothing in particular. I was just confirming that I have arranged for you to meet with Detective Marsh on Monday afternoon at three. He's coming to Grey House."

"Thank you."

"I've spoken to Prescott. It's just after six in the morning in Sydney, so she'll be ready to brief Mrs Grey when she wakes."

"Thank you." Christian suspected that Ana would cut short her trip when she heard and it wasn't something he would dissuade her from. Ten days without her was far too long. He looked through the window back into the class. Darcey was oblivious to the fact that he'd left, while Sloan was trying and failing to make it look like she wasn't watching him. He turned his back to her. "Keep talking," he said.

"Um… What about?" said Taylor, stumped.

"I don't know, anything," Christian swapped his phone to the other ear. "Tell me all last week's closing positions on the FTSE 100. Just keep me busy."

"Um…OK," Christian heard the sound of Taylor tapping a keyboard. "Yesterday, it closed up 14 points at 7130." Christian smirked. Sometimes Taylor took him very literally.

"What about the Seattle Sounders, how are they doing?" Perhaps he could impress Teddy by actually knowing something about his son's favourite soccer team for once.

"The Sounders? Ah… not so good."

"They lost again?" Teddy would be sad.

"Oh no," reassured Taylor. "They're just looking for a buyer."

"Really?" said Christian, now suddenly very interested. "How come I didn't know about this?"

"Do you usually read the sports pages?"

"Er… no," he admitted. "But I do read the business ones and know Joe Roth and Adrian Hanauer. I'm surprised they haven't mentioned it." Christian thought for a moment. "Call Stephen. Get him to put together some figures." It wouldn't hurt for his business manager to make some enquiries about a purchase.

"OK," said Taylor. "I'm sure Teddy will love that."

Christian smiled broadly. "I'm sure Ana won't."

"True," added Taylor.

Christian thought of something else that Taylor could do for him. "One final thing. Could you get me a key for a small jewellery lock stamped with the number thirty seven?"

As the class came to an end, Christian collected Darcey and headed through to Phoebe's room. While Darcey bounced and leapt beside him, his older daughter looked miserable and it came as no surprise that she voiced it when he opened the car door for her.

"Daddy, can I do something else, please?" She climbed into the back of the car and pulled the seat belt across her.

"Such as?" Christian clipped the belt into place.

"Fencing," she said with total conviction.

"Fencing?" He was equally taken aback and not wild about the idea of his six year old wielding a foil, however well protected she was. Where had she got that idea from? "Who does fencing?"

"Bobby Visconti."

"Sweetheart, he's… thirteen." Their friend's son was more a pal of Ted's than Phoebe's.

"Well, he does fencing and I want to do it too. I don't like dancing." That was patently obvious.

"OK, well, Mommy and I will talk about it when she gets back." On the far side of the back seat, Darcey was already strapped in and holding her arms out, practicing today's arm positions. Both girls were evidently from the same parents but poles apart in their personalities. He smiled and shut the car door. As he opened the driver's side, Sloan waved to him and flashed the smile that made him wonder if her surname was Shark. He raised his car key in acknowledgement. The image of an equally immaculate but unsettling blonde-haired woman brought to mind someone else from long ago. "I really don't like blondes," he murmured with a smile and slid into the car.