A/N: Okay, here's one for cab taken (thanks for buying/reading my books!) and Emi who asked so nicely. And Nam, as well—I'm fine, just busy. I read your comments, thank you for your appreciation, and Ana will have her moment to address her own insecurities. That said, I don't think they're unrealistic. When someone is dating/marrying so far out of his or her class or league (in this case socioeconomic but it could be looks as well), it's natural to feel insecure. There's an old song that goes "If you want to be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife..." I think the reverse is true as well.

I'm sorry I've been MIA but it is what it is. I had to reread the whole story to update and pretty sure you will have to also. Have to say, you guys let me get away with so many errors that I now can't correct because the edit option is long gone on the previous chapters. Sorry. But I'll try to be more cognizant of things going forward. I'm going to do my best to finish the story and really there's not all that much left so... with that in mind...

Oh wait. Also want to thank those of you who read and reviewed My Heart to Fear and But Now I See (formerly Ana's Choice, books one and two).You guys rock. If you haven't either read or reviewed, please consider doing so. You can leave a review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and/or Goodreads—or all three! Just look under Lulu Astor. Reviews help because they encourage others to buy and I really need help on that front, LOL. I suck at self-promotion truly.

Chapter 29

"Minx? Did I wake you?"

"No, I'm never asleep at four in the morning. What's up?"

"It's not four, silly. It's almost seven. Sorry, but I couldn't sleep—"

"And you figured you'd share the misery with me?"

"Something along those lines, yeah. So… guess what?" My voice is brimming with excitement, annoying at that hour of the morning, I know.

"Ana, it's bad enough you woke me up at this ungodly hour but now you're going to make me play twenty questions? Spit it out, woman, or I hang up."

I pout: Minx is a grouch. "Okay, okay. I did it!"

"Hanging up in two seconds."

"I went into the dungeon with him, Minx. As a participant."

Nothing came at me from the other end of the line but the quiet wasn't hollow so I knew I'd just shocked my girl—not lost her.

Finally Minx found words. "No shit? Wow, I didn't think he'd give in. So… how was it?"

"I'll need a couple of hours to tell you. Can you have lunch with me today?"

"Can't. I have back-to-back conferences at school. However, I find myself up very early this morning. Perhaps we can have breakfast?"

I giggle. "Okay. Where and when?"

...

"So talk," Minx said once I got to the café where we were meeting for breakfast. Minx was already seated with coffee cup in front of her. I gestured to the waiter for another and took a deep breath.

"So," I repeat, "it was, um, eye opening."

"That's it? You get me up at this ungodly hour for that? You know what else is eye opening? A phone call before seven a.m. from a so-called friend."

I throw up my hands in mock defense. "OK, OK. But first… are we violating Irina's contract by discussing this?"

Minx shrugs. "Technically, I suppose, but since we're both in on it, I can't see how it could hurt. I mean, I know who he is and what he's about so it's not like you're revealing anything new to me."

The waiter arrives with my coffee; I smile and thank him. "I liked it, Minx. I mean, it was exciting… you know, sexually, but I didn't care for the pain aspects of it."

Minx leans in. "Do you mean to say he hurt you your first time in?"

"Not hurt exactly. Just gave me a sample of the impact toys, I guess. I thought he was using a…" I drop off and cast a furtive look around me, "whip but it turned out to be only his belt."

Her eyebrows rise up. "In the right hand a belt can sting just as bad as a whip and it covers a wider area usually. But once you feel both, you won't confuse them again," she says and laughs. "I'm surprised, though, that he hit you at all your first time. Well, maybe with his hand since even a novice can easily withstand a spanking…"

"Mmm," I begin to say as I try to ignore the heat in my face. Turning my attention to my coffee, I carefully stir it, studying the swirls of cream in its depths. "But he didn't hit me hard. Barely left any marks. He said the pain was mostly in my mind. How do you stand it, Minx?"

"It's hard to explain to someone who's not wired this way. Like I told you, Ana, it's something I, like, need. Sexually." She shakes her head, her expression troubled. "I don't know why. The pain isn't intolerable, first off. I don't let anyone hit me hard enough to break the skin though it's happened once or twice by accident. But… I don't know. I guess I have a high pain tolerance level or something."

I nod, staring off into space, my mind back in Christian's dungeon.

"Will you do it again?" Minx asks suddenly.

Puffing out my cheeks I blow out my breath loudly. "I would do just about anything for him, Minx. I want to keep him. I'm—"

"Uh-oh," she spurts out. "You're in love, aren't you?"

Frowning, I nod my head. "I'm afraid so. But in my defense, who wouldn't be with Christian? I mean, what's not to love?"

"True dat. It's just that I don't know how good he is at boyfriend potential, Ana. I'm afraid you're going to get hurt—and I don't mean by a whip."

"No, I know what you mean. He's already cut into me numerous times with his running hot and cold. Yet," I hold out my arms, "here I am."

"Well, I suppose some things are worth the risk."

"Have you ever fallen in love with a client?"

Now it's her turn to frown. "Came close once but he went AWOL. It's never happened again but then I haven't had someone like your Mr. G. Most of my clients have extreme issues."

Yeah, well, she didn't know the half of Christian's but it wasn't my place to discuss his personal details with anyone.

"Oh, here comes the waiter. We should order, Minx."

"Yeah, some of us don't get vacations as easily as you do, you brat."

It was true. I'd been working less than two months before my boss took his annual month-long sabbatical. The station went into reruns and I got the month off too since there wouldn't be enough to do without him. It wasn't fully paid as I'm too new but I don't mind. Thanks to Kent, I have a healthy bank account balance.

"How is your sometime job, by the way, at the radio station?"

"It's great. The pay sucks but I really like the work, and my boss. Plus, I get to meet really cool people all the time."

"Whatever happened to the other two jobs you had lined up last year?"

"Oh, yeah, what a fiasco. I had basically accepted both of them and then went off to Italy. When I got back one had told me the position for which I applied was filled but I'd be given another. I didn't like the new position so I turned it down. The other one was just not the right fit for me but I recommended someone perfect for the job and she was hired, like, immediately. So it all worked out."

"Uh huh. So what are you going to do with your time off?"

"Besides go shopping?" I ask and we both laugh. "I don't know, just chill, I guess. Maybe organize my closets and take up a new and interesting hobby."

"Like hanging naked from a rafter?" Her eyes twinkled.

"That sounds interesting." We both laugh.

"I hate to be Debbie Downer, especially when you're so happy, Ana…"

"But?"

"But… I wish you weren't so head over heels with Mr. Gorgeous. You know, I've seen him at Madame Irina's so many times and—"

I hold up my hand to stop her. "Minx, trust me, I'm not kidding myself as to his background. It bothers me but I refuse to let it deter me from pursuing a relationship with him. He's worth whatever I have to deal with to have him. As long as he turns over a new leaf, it'll be okay."

Her eyes look troubled now. "Yes, but will he turn over a new leaf? That's the million-dollar question."

"I think he will," I say more resolutely than I feel. If I say it enough times, maybe I'll convince myself. "Yes, he will, Minx. I'm certain of it."

...

Forty-five minutes later we part, promising to get together again soon. Before she takes off, Minx makes me promise to call her if I need any info or advice on the BDSM front. I promise to take her up on that and then we go our separate ways. I head over to the farmer's market to get some wine and greens for dinner. While I'm in the area, I decide to buy Christian a present. The last time I gave him anything—the leather jacket I bought it Milan—he was so touched by the gesture. I want to surprise him again.

As I walk I start to think about what I told Minx, how I would do just about anything to keep Christian. It's true, too. Those seven months without him were the bleakest of my life and no matter how much I tried to talk myself out of the depression, I couldn't claw my way up. I began to see what my life would be like without him in it. I'd be forced to admire him from afar since he is and in all likelihood will remain a public figure. Before I met him, I'd managed to travel in circles that never touched his rarefied ones. Afterward, however, wherever I turned I'd see either his darling face in a photo, or an article about or a quote by him… or sometimes about one of his family members… or his company. Always something that would scrape at the festering sore that was my heart. Our circles now resembled a Venn diagram with overlapping parts. Those overlaps represented dire pain for me, a barren existence that I didn't want to reside in.

I'd have to watch him marry some beautiful woman eventually… and have children with her. For despite his commitment phobia, a man like Grey would want heirs, I can't help but believe. Oh God. Seeing him with children by another woman? That would kill me because I love him so much. My own life would pale by comparison in every way… and if I ever married I'd feel as if I settled for something less and that wouldn't be fair to any potential husband. But… how could anyone ever measure up?

That's one of the most ironic things about Christian: he considers himself unworthy but in reality there aren't too many people who are as great as him. He's wildly successful at what he does, amazingly wealthy, and of course handsome beyond most human standards. But he's also a good person. He cares about injustice and tries to address it wherever possible. He is a dedicated philanthropist. He uses his fame for good, helping raise funds and awareness for wonderful causes.

Our seven-month separation also taught me another lesson that was hard learned: Christian is as stubborn as ever they come. Even though by all accounts he was miserable without me, he never contacted me, claims to have never gotten my text.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

Lost in my thoughts the deep voice jolts me into real time and I stop short, almost losing my balance. The man selling the micro greens is about twenty-five and handsome in a rugged, farm-boy sort of way. Right now he's grinning as he waits for my answer.

"Um, sure. What do you recommend?"

His hand sweeps over the table. "We have so many to choose from. How about I put together a sampler pack for you? That way you can try a little bit of everything."

"Sounds perfect."

I'm about to fish my phone out of my bag to check my texts when someone taps me on the shoulder and I turn to see who it is.

"Aren't you Christian's little friend?"

Fiona. Fifi to her friends. Lucky me.

"Yes, that's right, though I don't know how little I am," I reply, prepared to do battle with the woman. I turn back to the farmer and he hands me the package as I give him a twenty. He quickly counts out my change.

"Thank you, Miss. Hope you enjoy your salad."

"I'm sure I will," I say, giving him a smile though my body feels frozen. When I turn back around, my genie hasn't granted my wish: the bitch is still there. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, dear. I'd like to chat for a bit. Let's walk."

I truly don't want to chat with Fifi but at the same time I'm curious as to what she has to say. We begin to walk toward the wine sellers since that was my next stop.

"Ana," she says, hurrying to match her stride with mine. I tend to walk very fast—an East Coast thing. "I don't know if Christian has been forthright with you."

I smirk. "And you intend to remedy that, I suppose?"

I can only describe the look on her face as a sneer. "Yes, I do. I think it's unfair of him to lead you on. You seem like a nice young girl…"

"I don't know that I'm all that nice, nor am I a girl, but do go on."

"I shall because it's only right that you know some facts. Not only does he see me on a regular basis, but there's also the Russian model friend of his and the politically connected blonde. Those are two I know of; there may be more. For all I know, a lot more. Faithful he's not."

I refuse to let her see how much she's upsetting me. I play along to get as much information out of her as I can, even though I'm not sure any of it is dependable. I will speak to Christian before I believe a word that spills out of her rotten mouth. Keeping my head up and my eyes focused straight ahead, I ask, "So what you're telling me is that you've just accepted that he cheats on you and are still willing to see him?"

"Accepted is the exact word. It doesn't make me happy but I do believe I'm the right woman for him and he'll recognize that before too long. He's getting to the age where he'll start to think of settling down and I believe he'll want to settle down with me."

"Settle down or for? I think Christian goes after exactly what he wants, when he wants it." I know I'm being beyond snotty but I can't stomach the woman. She is as phony as they make 'em and I wonder how Christian could stand more than sixty seconds of her company?

She smiles, an oily grin that stretches her lips away from her teeth. "There's no reason to be catty, Ana. I'm trying to save you some heartache by telling you the truth."

"Oh so it's your altruism that impels you to warn me off?"

She chuckles. "It's some of that but it's also self-interest, I'll admit. I'd like to eliminate the competition. I have no intention of giving up on Christian now or anytime soon."

"Have you spoken to the other women then?"

"I've spoken to Nastassja but I've never had the pleasure of meeting Emma, the senator's daughter."

"Aren't you forgetting Antonia? She was at the pool party he brought me to. Another friend of his sister's who pines after him."

A clear blast of hatred flashes in her eyes. "Is that what he told you about me? Because let me enlighten you, Ana: he came after me. It wasn't the other way around. What's more, every time I've tried to walk away in the past, he's pulled me back in."

I turn to her, smile as sweetly as possible, and say, "Why don't you try walking away again? This time will be the charm—I guarantee it. Good day, Fiona."

I leave her with such a priceless look on her face that I'm tempted to spin around and snap a shot. What an arrogant be-otch. My heartbeat is thundering as I walk as fast as possible toward the wine merchants. I was planning on picking up a single bottle but now three or ten seem like a better choice.

Two and a half hours later, after making myself feel better by buying a new pair of shoes and a few trinkets of jewelry, I make my way back home. Earlier in the day I sent a text to Christian, telling him I'd be home by four and he should come over when he was through with work. It's almost that now. I'm hoping he gets here soon and trying to decide exactly how I'll tell him about my little afternoon adventure. While I wait I crack open a bottle of Merlot and pour a glass. Dante gives me sad eyes but I truly don't feel like walking him now so I open the patio door and gift him with his favorite chew snack. Then I sack out on the sofa, a warm breeze wafting in, Norah Jones on the iPod, and by the third sip, I can't seem to be able to keep my eyes open another second.

I'm in a beach house in Australia and Hans and I are still married—married in the true sense of the word. Three or four white-blond suntanned kids run circles around me as I lie sunbathing in our backyard, which is right on the ocean. Hans looks like Hans but he's overweight and walks around carrying an open beer. He keeps laughing every time I try to speak to him.

Then the scene shifts and now I'm somehow in a nightclub. I'm wearing a white sundress that shows off my deep tan and Hans is in a white linen suit, and he's slim and fit again. As I admire his good looks a hush comes over the entire place and we both look up.

There he is in a silvery blue suit, looking like a billion dollars. He's laughing and all his straight white teeth are gleaming as he tosses his head back while a woman whispers in his ear. When he puts his head down to get closer to her, a lock of his dark hair falls over one eye and my heart seizes in my chest: I miss him so much. Why doesn't he love me anymore?

The woman he's with is a platinum blonde, dripping in diamonds and perfect golden skin. They make a magnificent couple and I'm so jealous. It's not only jealousy, though: I also feel the loss of him in my life so much, so viscerally, it's like an deep, open wound. I hate seeing him and not being in his life yet I can't drag my eyes away from the tableaux in front of me. I stand there bereft, knowing Hans can see me pining for another man and I'm unable to care.

There's a boy of about six or seven looking on and he looks like a miniature version of his father. All three of them look so tall. I look down and suddenly realize I forgot to put on my heels—I'm still in my pink fuzzy slippers. At first I'm mortified but after a few seconds I really don't care because my heart is cleaving into two pieces at the sight of him. I still love him so much and I burst out crying when our eyes catch and lock. He just stares at me for a minute and then goes back to playing with his family as if I'm forgotten in an instant. I have to run out of the nightclub before I start screaming.

The doorbell knocks me out of my dream and I wake up disoriented. I'm on the sofa, Dante lying on my feet, and I wonder when I fell asleep and what woke me up when the doorbell chimes again.

"Coming," I shout, sliding my legs out from under warm, sleepy dog. I run my fingers through my hair and shake myself aware.

"Do you always open the door without asking who it is?" is what greets me along with a stern frown. It's the gorgeous man in my dream but this time he's mine. Right there and then, I decide I will do whatever's necessary to keep him and never let that dream…nightmare… come true. Inhaling deeply, I smile.

"Hello to you too. I knew it was you, Christian."

"How did you know? Did you recognize my specific and unique knock?"

"Yes, exactly."

He shakes his head. He's standing just inside the door, big capable hands on those luscious slim hips of his, being all grouchy.

"What? Can't I just enjoy my handsome boyfriend without getting scolded all the time?"

"I wouldn't scold you if you employed some common sense now and then, Ana. Promise me you'll start doing that."

I roll my eyes. "I promise, okay? Now come in." Closing the door, I usher him into the living room.

"Are you hungry? Do you want to have an early dinner?" he asks once we're inside.

"Not really… unless you do?"

"Not particularly," he answers, smiling.

I recognize that look on his face and it sends heat streaming through my blood. "So… what would you like to do then?"

"Hmm," he murmurs, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around my waist. "Let me think."

I throw my arms around his head. "I think we may be on the same wavelength," I say on a breath, grazing his soft lips with mine. "Kate won't be home until very late tonight, if at all."

I wink at him, swinging my hand into his and lead him into my bedroom. I figure it's best we have our talk after we're relaxed and feeling affectionate toward one another. Also, I'm not all that eager to discuss Fifi at all.

He removes my clothes, kissing me as he tosses each piece on the chair, making the whole process a major part of foreplay. In his dungeon, the way he stripped me was more a means to an end, not sexy at all. I guess that's because normally the sub waits naked in the room and he had no patience for preliminaries. The sensuality of being with him in a bedroom and interacting with him in the dungeon is significantly different. His words about power exchange echo in my brain. I suppose that's what the dominance is more about: power not sex.

As if he read my mind he whispers, "I can't wait to get you back into my dungeon… if you're game, that is. Are you?"

Am I? The rational part of me would like to answer in the negative but the excitement I already begin to feel at just the thought tells me otherwise. Besides, I'm committed to do anything to make this man happy and comfortable. I clear my throat. "Yes, I'm totally game. How about this weekend?"

Smiling slightly he nods. "If I must wait that long."

Once I'm bare he strips off his suit and undergarments in seconds. I take a leisurely moment to admire his body—he's truly a work of art. His is the type of masculine physique that sent ancient Greek artists running for their brush or clay: every muscle and tendon is sharply defined and sculpted, the skin wrapped tautly over it all. When everything comes together in perfect harmony like that, it's divine art.

We're both standing so now he sits on the side of the bed and crooks his finger at me. I take the four steps over to him and place my hand in his outstretched one. It's warm and shoots sexual electricity through my hand and it tentacles into my veins.

He flashes me a wicked grin. "Take a seat."

I look down at his lap and there's a giant erect cock waving hello. I assume he wants me to sit atop that monster so leaning on my left knee, I throw my right leg over to straddle him. Before I can even begin to lower myself onto him he interrupts my progress by grabbing my thigh.

"Do you want to continue with the D/s, Ana?"

"Yes, I do," I answer and realize that it's true. I find it exciting and at least want to know once and for all whether I like it nor not."

"Good," he nods gently, placing my leg outside his. "I want you to lace your fingers together behind your head. Do it now," he says as I gape at him in surprise. Now we're doing it? I lift my arms and comply with his directive.

"Good. Now do not move those hands under any circumstances. Understand?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to widen your knees. Keep your balance as best you could. If you start to lean or tip one way, wait for me to right you. Do not move your hands. Got it?"

"But why?"

"No questions, Ana. Just obedience. Can you do it?"

"Yes, of course," I answer but I'm confused. What's this all about? As I mull it over, his warm hands land on the inside of my knees and spread them apart, wider and wider until I've lost my center of gravity and I start to wobble. I can see why he had to tell me more than once not to move my hands because a person's natural reflex when losing balance is to throw out one's hands to stabilize. It takes some effort not to do it.

Once I'm in this stressed position he appears satisfied although I have to use my thigh muscles to keep myself upright and it's taxing. He looks very comfortable, though, as he sits there stroking himself, smiling at me. So fucking hot he is—I could probably have an orgasm just by watching him. My legs are pushed out so widely that I'm actually too low to mount him and in any case he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get started. Instead his hands begin to explore, running down my shoulders, my breasts, my… everything. Soft caresses at first, gentle as the brush of a feather, and as I close my eyes to enjoy his touches suddenly he pinches my nipple hard.

"Ow," I shriek and my fingers unlace, prepared to launch into protective mode.

"Put them back," he orders sternly, and I obey. Truth to tell I hadn't even thought about it; my hands just moved automatically in response to the pain.

"I told you, Ana, not to move your hands. Now in response to that breach in discipline, I will go harder on your other nipple. Do not move."

I close my eyes and nod, trying to control my reflexes… but nothing happens. I open them again to find him looking intently at me. "Do you see how this works?" he asks softly.

Releasing the breath I didn't even realize I was holding, I nod. "Yes, I think so."

"Good. This is an exploration in trust, Ana. I want you to trust me implicitly. That means that if you began to fall face first, you wouldn't put your hands out to break your fall. You'd trust that I would catch you. You have to train yourself—I'll help of course. We'll start slowly like this. Are you with me so far?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Now I'm going to fuck you. The rules remain in force: do not move any part of your body no matter what I do."

That's the moment he chooses to reach for my other nipple and tweak it excruciatingly hard. I manage to control my hands before they do more than jerk but I cannot repress my scream. It really hurt.

"Good girl. That time was much better. Work on the over-the-top screaming, though."

Before I could lean in to bite him, his hands grip my hips and he lifts me up over his hard-on and as soon as he's in position he yanks my hips down. I'm wet enough that I slide right down him and it smarts a little. When I look at him, his eyes are closed so I know he feels good… I feel good. It drives me hotter to see him excited and know I am doing it to him.

"Ana, open your eyes," he instructs and I do. "I want you to ride me. Do you need to bring your knees in closer for balance?"

"A little would help," I admit.

He takes me at my word and closes my knees, oh, about an inch in. Gee, thanks, big guy. Why am I doing all the work today? As I start to rise up, I begin to realize what he'll be doing. One hand is on my breast, the other down below, his fingers sliding over my clit. I quickly feel an orgasm gathering speed.

"Don't come, Ana."

"What?" I ask in surprise as I lower myself down on him again.

"You heard me. Do. Not. Come." As if to punctuate his words, he pinches my clit. I have to marshal all my power not to give in to the climax that's hovering right there. "Christian, I can't."

"You can, Ana, and you will. This is about control; it's about discipline over your body. Mind over matter. Now go slowly on the rise, fast coming down. Focus on what you're doing, not what I am."

"Easier said than done," I spit out between gritted teeth. What will he do if I come? My hands are still behind my head and I'm expending so much physical effort that sweat is streaming down my neck, trickling down my back and between my breasts. All too soon I reach a point of crisis.

"Christian, if you don't want me to come, stop touching me. I can't hold back any longer," I whine.

He just looks at me as if I'd posed an interesting question or something. "Okay, you may come now," he says and slaps my ass so hard as I'm on the downswing. His other hand is pinching my clit and when he releases it my orgasm comes roaring over me. It takes everything I have to keep my hands behind my head but I do. When I finally open my eyes he's looking at me and smiling.

"Good girl, you managed to keep your hands in place. Proud of you, Ana. Now I want you to work on giving me an orgasm." He lies back and puts his hand behind his head, only he's comfortably leaning on the headboard. All right then.

Using my muscles I squeeze him on the way up and crash on him on the way down. I don't vary the speed or rhythm at all. Steady and inevitable is the way to get him, I think, and he proves me right. It doesn't take too long before his eyes roll up and he grips my hips so hard I can feel his fingertips on the bone. He's not taking chances: he yanks me down once, twice, a third time and he ejaculates. It's so powerful a release that I can feel it fill me before it begins to run down my leg.

"Can I move my hands now?" I manage to get out.

"Yes, you may," he says and I collapse onto him exhausted.

...

I throw some chicken on the gas grill on the patio, toss a salad together with the fresh vegetables and greens I bought at the farmer's market and mix it all together. To complement the salad, I chop up some garlic, mix it into clarified butter, and drizzle it over a French baguette, sprinkling it liberally with parmesan cheese before popping it into the toaster oven.

"Should we eat outside?"

"If you'd like."

"C'mon, let's," I say, bringing plates and cutlery outside. When I have the table set, I pour each of us a glass of chilled white and sit down. After serving him a large portion of salad, I watch him take a bite.

"Mmm, this is delicious, Ana. Everything tastes so fresh."

"It is," I reply, tearing off a piece of the garlic bread. "I got everything except the chicken today at the farmer's market."

"Ah. Well it really makes all the difference. So," he sips his wine, "what else did you do?"

"Funny you should ask. I ran into someone and it kind of ruined an otherwise perfect day."

"Oh? Who?"

"Fiona."

"Fiona? My sister's friend?"

"Yes. Or to hear her tell it, your girlfriend. In fact," I add, enjoying the look of astonishment on his face, "she claims that very soon you'll decide to settle down and when you do it will be her you'll choose to do it with."

"You have got to be kidding. What did you say?"

I twitch my right shoulder. "I might have said you would be settling for, not down or something to that effect."

He smiles a little but he's shaking his head. "I cannot believe the nerve of that woman. One lapse of judgment…"

"The problem is, Christian, that when you fuck a woman, she tends to think you might be somewhat interested in her. See how that works?"

He blows out a breath, frustrated… or maybe annoyed at my flippancy. "I'll speak to her."

"She might harass other women as well. She mentioned Nastassja and some other woman… I think she said a politically connected woman?"

He nods. "Where did she ever get this idea? I spent very little time with her."

I narrow my eyes at him. "She got the idea when you saw her at Irina's and decided to fuck her, Christian. Now she knows all about your… um, inclinations. She could cause you some major problems."

"I'll take care of it, Ana. No need to worry. Give me a minute, will you?" He gets up and goes into another room. I wait a minute but then curiosity propels me into following him. Sneakily, of course. He's in the bathroom, on the phone. I could tell he's agitated by the way he's running his hand through his hair while pacing in the small room.

"I don't want you to scare her but I want it made abundantly clear to the woman that she is legally bound to keep her mouth shut… and make sure she understands about maintaining the 100-yard buffer… I don't want her anywhere near Ana ever again. Is that clear? Right away, Taylor, this evening if possible. Let me know the moment it's done."

Oops. I back away quickly before he can catch me snooping. Well, well, well, Mr. G. is not unflappable after all. This woman's got him upset. I store that nugget away in my memory: Christian Grey has shown a chink in his armor. What I don't know yet is whether he's more upset at the danger to his reputation or the threat to me?

And I'd really like to know.