Reviews from Chapter 3:

daytonalay: thank you for the well wishes! Ana is indeed vulnerable and Christian definitely still has a thing or two to learn . . .

Diane2229: Christian is a complicated character. We'll see more of him and what he's really feeling throughout the story. Thank you for the well wishes!

Guest: Kate does indeed live with Ana. But this particular night she's out celebrating her graduation with her family and catching up with dear old Ethan. Elena is always up to something, isn't she? As for the virgin question, all will be revealed. After all, it's not as if it's not possible to be a tease and stay a virgin ;)

KMariaJ: Even from the Prologue we can see that Christian isn't taking this lightly. Yes, he marries Leila. But at the end of the day he has his reasons. Christian has craved normalcy his entire life. When the idea was planted like a seed, he had to take it and run with it. Ana may have just blossomed a little too late for either of their liking.

zeeulove: Christian has many intentions for his Little One. Some will be revealed within the next few chapters. Forewarning: it gets worse before it gets better. But doesn't it always? ;)

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

The flame of the candle is burning hot against my skin. It flickers and dances in the ocean breeze, a breeze that brings no comfort from the stifling heat.

Ever so soft wings flutter to and fro in the dark of the night, sprinkling sparkling gray dust in the circle of light. I struggle to pull back, but my body moves forward—right towards what I believe to be an angel- all on its own, unable to resist temptation and morbid curiosity.

Just as I catch a glimpse of the angels face, I become blinded by the light. Almost as if I'm being blinded by the sun. And then, I find that I am. My feet are off the sand and far beneath is the vast ocean.

The sun dazzles me as I move closer and closer. The heat envelopes my body, making my skin sticky with sweat as I begin to struggle to stay airborne. Where's my angel? I'm so warm. The heat begins to stifle my ability to breathe, overpowering my lungs as I gasp for breath.

I open my eyes to find that I am draped in Christian Grey. He's wrapped around me like a boa constrictor. The man is fast asleep with his head on my chest, his left arm is draped over me, holding me close, and his left leg is thrown over and hooked around both of mine. The body heat radiating off of him is suffocating and with the brunt of his heavy weight upon me, he's sufficiently pinning me down.

I take a moment to absorb that for once he's still in my bed and sound asleep. And to top it all off, it's light outside—morning. He's spent the entire night with me.

Despite our many attempts, this hasn't happened since the first time.

My right arm is stretched out across what little space of bed I have beside me, no doubt in search of a cool spot beside the fire on top of meHe's still with me. As I process the fact that he's still with me, it occurs to me I can touch him if I so desire. It just so happens that I do. The man is sound asleep and irresistible.

Tentatively, I lift my hand and run the tips of my fingers down his T-shirt clad back. The muscles in his shoulders tighten and deep in his throat, I hear a faint, distressed groan as he stirs.

First, he nuzzles my chest, inhaling deeply as he wakes and ruffles my T-shirt. Then, sleepy, blinking, bright gray eyes meet mine beneath his tousled mop of copper hair. He looks breathtaking in the morning sun. And briefly I have to wonder if Leila knows and appreciates the specimen that she has the privilege of waking up next to every morning.

"Good morning," he mumbles and frowns as he takes in the way our bodies are tangled together. "Jesus, even in my sleep I'm drawn to you."

He moves slowly, uncurling his limbs from around me as he gets his bearings. I become aware of his erection against my hip. Noticing my wide-eyed, hopeful reaction at the mere possibility, he smiles a slow, panty-melting smile.

"Hmm . . . this has possibilities," he says, echoing my exact thoughts. "But I think we should wait until Sunday." He pauses and grins as he says, "Family dinner." Then he leans down and nuzzles my ear with the tip of his nose.

I flush from the thought of us fucking in his parent's house, even though it's been done before, but then I feel as if I'm Fifty shades of scarlet from his heat.

"You're very hot," I murmur.

"You're not so bad yourself," he murmurs and proceeds to suggestively press his rock-hard erection against my thigh.

I flush at his antics as I mumble, "That's not what I meant," with a sullen tone.

He props himself up on his elbow, gazing down at me with a grin of amusement. Then he bends and, to my surprise, plants a gentle kiss on my swollen lips.

"Sleep well?" he asks.

I nod, staring up at him, and I realize that unlike most nights, I've slept very well. Except for maybe the last half hour when I was too hot.

"So did I." He frowns. "Yes, really well." He raises his eyebrows in confused surprise. "What's the t-"

"Banana!"

I sit up alarmed at the sound of Elliot's voice ringing through the apartment.

"Kate's car wasn't here?" I ask frantically.

"No?" he mumbles, almost as a question as he sits up in bed.

"Oh, Banana! Kate told me to let myself in when I got here. Come out, come out wherever you are!"

Eyes wide, I scramble off my bed and towards the door, shutting it firmly just as Elliot reaches the other side.

"Banana? Are you not alone?"

"Elliot-"

"Wait one fucking second. There's a coat on the barstool. Who the fuck deflowered my little Banana?!" His footsteps fall away from the door, but just as suddenly they come closer and then he uses his fist to pound on the door. "Banana! Open the fucking door!" I stare at Christian in panic and begin to shake as the doorknob rattles. "Open the fucking door right now!"

Unable to keep it closed with my own body weight as Christian stands from the bed, the door flies open, sending me falling back. I miss the bed by an inch and fall to the floor with an "Oomph!"

"Ana!"

Christian's arms are around me in a second, helping me from the floor. When I look up, Elliot looks as if he's seen a ghost.

"Holy fucking shit."

"El-"

"Holy. Mother. Fucking. Shit!"

"I can explain," Christian says calmly.

"I sure mother fucking hope so! You fucking bastards! Why would you cheat on Leila?! What the fuck were you thinking? Do you have any idea what this will do to her? Her own sister? How could you?!"

As Elliot shouts and flails his arms around I gasp for breath, struggling to breathe as I think about everyone finding out. Theywould never forgive me. The family who disowned me would cut me off completely. Ray would never look at me the same way again. And Christian's family . . . They would hate me. They'd never be able to look at me again. I wouldn't be able to look at them.

"She'll hate me. They'll all hate me. Oh, God. W-What have I-"

"Ana! Ana, breathe, breathe for me Little One," Christian murmurs, lowering me down onto the bed to sit on the edge. Catching my face in his hands he kisses my forehead softly as I begin to catch my breath. "No one is going to find out. I promise you, she won't find out baby." He pauses and shoots Elliot a sharp look as he says, "Elliot won't tell anyone about this. Right, Elliot?"

Elliot's face falls as he looks at me.

"No, no they won't. I'm sorry Banana. It's not you I'm mad at." He stops and looks at Christian with a hard glare, "How long has this been going on?"

Christian growls out, "It's none of your business."

"How long Christian?!"

"A little over two years and a half years. About three," I murmur.

Elliot lets out a deep sigh of relief. "Thank God."

"What?" Christian asks, looking completely thrown.

Elliot throws him a wry look.

"Christian, you've known her since . . . she was practically a kid. I was just-"

"It was the night of my bachelor party."

"What?" Elliot asks bewildered.

"You know when Kate and Ana stuck in under the premise of Kate surprising you? Well, one thing led to another and here we are."

"Shit. Ana, that was - shit. I'm sorry, but how does Leila not know?"

"We've been careful, I guess," Christian says. "Truthfully, I don't know how we've gone this long without being caught. We were pretty reckless in the beginning," he says softly.

"I guess you would have to be to even consider doing what you're doing. Given the time and everything-"

"Time! What's the time?" Christian asks suddenly.

I glance at my alarm.

"It's seven thirty."

"Seven thirty . . . shit." He scrambles to stand up from his spot where he'd been kneeling in front and me and manages to drag on his jeans.

It is my turn to look amused as I sit up. Christian Grey is late and flustered. This is something I have never seen before, and it's quite amusing. I shift in my spot and belatedly realize that my behind is no longer sore as he rushes around.

"You are such a bad influence on me, Little One. I have a meeting. I have to go—I have to be in Portland by eight. Are you smirking at me?"

"Yes."

He grins. "I'm late. I don't do late. Another first, Miss Steele." He pulls on his jacket and then bends down and grasps my head, his hands on either side.

"Sunday," he says, and the word is heavy with an unspoken promise. Everything deep in my body uncurls and then clenches in delicious anticipation of what is to come Sunday.

Holy hell, if my mind could just keep up with my body. He leans forward and kisses me quickly before he grabs his stuff from my side table and his shoes—which he doesn't even bother to put on.

"Taylor will come and sort out your Beetle. I was serious. Don't drive it. I'll see you at my place on Sunday."

"What about Leila?" I ask worriedly.

"I'll take care of it," he says, giving Elliot a pointed look, "I'll email you a time." And like a whirlwind, he's gone.

Christian Grey spent the night with me, and I feel rested. For once, there was no sex, only cuddling. He told me he never slept with anyone like that—except Leila and now twice with me. I grin, feeling a bit more optimistic than I have for the last day or so. Then Elliot breaks me out of my fog.

"Well that was interesting and all but I really only have one more question and then I just don't want to know."

I nod, heading for the kitchen with Elliot on my tail, needing a cup of tea.

"Does Kate know?"

I turn and look at Elliot, feeling guilty.

"No. I swear, she hasn't the slightest idea. I promise you. She'd never hide anything like that from you anyway. She's probably going to hand my ass to me when she finds out."

"How will she find out?" he asks.

"I assume you're going to tell her. Or do you want me to tell her?"

"I think it might be better coming from me. I could tell her on vacation. Soften the blow a little. Maybe give her some time to cool off."

"You would do that for me?"

"I'd do it for Katie, but yeah, for you, too. Leila is a conniving bitch if you ask me," he grins. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Kate should be here sometime soon. She went out with Ethan last night and I think she crashed at his hotel."

"Well, if I miss her, tell her I said hi."

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

After breakfast, I shower and dress quickly for my last day at Clayton's. It's the end of an era—good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, WSU, Vancouver, the apartment, my Beetle. I glance at the laptop—it's only 7:52 which means I have just enough time for some light e-mail banter with my favorite Grey.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Assault and Battery: The After-Effects

Date: May 27 2011 08:05

To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey,

You wanted to know why I felt confused after you—which euphemism should we apply—spanked, punished, beat, assaulted me. Well, during the whole alarming process, I felt demeaned, debased, and . . . abused isn't the right word. Perhaps it was more a feeling of confusion?

And much to my mortification, you're right, I was aroused, and that was unexpected. As you are well aware, all things punishment are new to me—I only wish I was more experienced and therefore more prepared. I was shocked to feel aroused. Although, after some deep thinking I believe it's my want and need to please you as my Dom—and as Mine—that leaves me feeling aroused after a spanking.

What really worried me was how I felt afterward. And that's more difficult to articulate. I was pleased to have pleased you. I felt relieved that it wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. And when I was lying in your arms, I felt . . . sated. But I feel very uncomfortable, guilty even, feeling that way. Especially, given the circumstances. It doesn't sit well with me, and I'm confused as a result. Does that answer your question?

I hope the world of Mergers and Acquisitions is as stimulating as ever . . . and that you weren't too late.

Thank you for staying with me.

Ana

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Free Your Mind

Date: May 27 2011 08:24

To: Anastasia Steele

Interesting . . . if slightly overstated title heading, Miss Steele.

To answer your points:

• I'll go with spanking—as that's what it was.

• So you felt demeaned, debased, abused, and assaulted—how very Tess Durbeyfield of you. I believe it was you who decided on the debasement if I remember correctly. Do you really feel like this or do you think you ought to feel like this? Two very different things. Especially given the circumstances as you've called it. You should not feel guilty. It's not just you in this duo. If that is how you feel, do you think you could just try to embrace these feelings, deal with them, for me? That's what a submissive would do.

• I am grateful for your inexperience. I value it, and I'm only beginning to understand what it means. Simply put . . . it means that you are mine in every way. Just as I, am yours.

• Yes, you were aroused, which in turn was very arousing, there's nothing wrong with that. It pleases me that you so enjoying pleasing me.

• Happy does not even begin to cover how I felt. Ecstatic joy comes close, Little One.

• Punishment spanking hurts far more than sensual spanking—so that's about as hard as it gets, unless, of course, you commit some major transgression, in which case I'll use some implement to punish you with. My hand was very sore. But I like that. I also happen to like you sore and pink. I'll never mark your porcelain skin, Anastasia. You're far too precious.

• I felt sated, too—more so than you could ever know.

• Don't waste your energy on guilt, feelings of wrongdoing, etc. We are consenting adults and what we do behind closed doors is between ourselves. You need to free your mind and listen to your body. It's just you and me. You do not need to worry about anyone else outside of us. I would never let anyone destroy what we share.

• The world of MA is not nearly as stimulating as you are, Miss Steele.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Holy crap . . . mine in every way.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Consenting Adults!

Date: May 27 2011 08:26

To: Christian Grey

Aren't you in a meeting?

I'm very glad your hand was sore.

And if I listened to my body, I'd be in Alaska by now.

Ana

P.S.: I will think about embracing these feelings and all I ask in return, is that you embrace these new feelings as well.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: You Didn't Call the Cops

Date: May 27 2011 08:35

To: Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele,

I am in a meeting discussing the futures market if you're really interested.

For the record, you stood beside me knowing what I was going to do.

You didn't at any time ask me to stop—you didn't use either safeword.

You are an adult—you have choices.

Quite frankly, I'm looking forward to the next time my palm is ringing with pain.

You're obviously not listening to the right part of your body.

Alaska is very cold and no place to run. I would find you.

I can track your cell phone—remember?

Go to work.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

I scowl at the screen because he's right, of course. It's my choice. Hmm. Is he serious about coming to find me? I hit "reply."

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Stalker

Date: May 27 2011 08:36

To: Christian Grey

Have you sought therapy for your stalker tendencies?

Ana

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Stalker? Me?

Date: May 27 2011 08:38

To: Anastasia Steele

As you well know, I pay the eminent Dr. Flynn a small fortune with regard to my stalker and other tendencies.

Go to work.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Expensive Charlatans

Date: May 27 2011 08:40

To: Christian Grey

May I humbly suggest you seek a second opinion? I am not sure that Dr. Flynn is very effective given the amount of time you've been visiting him.

Miss Steele

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Second Opinions

Date: May 27 2011 08:43

To: Anastasia Steele

Not that it's any of your business, humble or otherwise, but Dr. Flynn is the second opinion.

You will have to speed, in your new car, putting yourself at unnecessary risk—I think that's against the rules. Actually, I know it is.

GO TO WORK.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: SHOUTY CAPITALS

Date: May 27 2011 08:47

To: Christian Grey

As the object of your stalker tendencies, I think it is my business, actually.

I haven't signed yet. So rules, schmules. And for your information, I don't start until 9:30. Ha.

Miss Steele

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Descriptive Linguistics

Date: May 27 2011 08:49

To: Anastasia Steele

"Schmules"? Not sure where that appears in Webster's Dictionary.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Descriptive Linguistics

Date: May 27 2011 08:52

To: Christian Grey

It's between control freak and stalker.

And descriptive linguistics is a hard limit for me.

Will you stop bothering me now, Sir?

Your Little One would like to go to work in her new car.

Ana

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Challenging but Amusing Young Women

Date: May 27 2011 08:56

To: Anastasia Steele

My palm is twitching.

Drive safely, Miss Steele.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

The Audi is a joy to drive because it has power steering. Wanda, my beloved Beetle, has no power in it at all—anywhere—so my usual daily workout, which was driving my Beetle, will cease. Except for yoga when visiting Leila. Oh, but I will have a personal trainer to contend with, according to Christian's rules. I frown at the thought. I hate— no, I despise—exercising.

While I am driving, I try to analyze our email exchange. He's a patronizing son of a bitch sometimes. And then I think of Grace and I feel guilty for just a nanosecond. Of course, she wasn't his birth mother. That's a whole world of unknown pain. Well, patronizing son of a bitch works well, then. Yes. I'm an adult, thank you for reminding me, Christian Grey, and it is my choice.

The problem is, I just want Christian, his baggage on the other hand—right now he has a 747 cargo hold's worth of baggage. I couldn't just lie back and embrace it . . . could I? Or have I already done so?

Technically, I accepted the baggage the moment I knelt down on my knees before him. But in truth, I would accept Christian any way I could get him.

I only wonder if he feels the same.

I pull into the parking lot at Clayton's with a sigh of relief. As I make my way in, I can hardly believe it's my last day. Fortunately, the store is busy and time passes quickly. At lunchtime, Mr. Clayton summons me from the stockroom. He's standing beside a motorcycle courier.

"Miss Steele?" the courier asks. I frown questioningly at Mr. Clayton, who shrugs, as puzzled as me. My heart sinks. This has one word written all over it. Or aptly, one name. What has Christian sent me now? I sign for the small package and open it immediately. It's a BlackBerry. A shiny new BlackBerry. My heart sinks further as I switch it on.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: BlackBerry ON LOAN

Date: May 27 2011 11:15

To: Anastasia Steele

I need to be able to contact you at all times, and since this is your most honest form of communication, I figured you needed a better BlackBerry than the model you seem to have lost since you are incapable of answering your emails on-the-go.

Enjoy. ;)

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Holy shit. Christian Grey sent a winky face?

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Consumerism Gone Mad

Date: May 27 2011 13:22

To: Christian Grey

I think you need to call Dr. Flynn right now.

Your stalker tendencies are running wild.

I am at work. I will email you when I get home.

Thank you for yet another gadget.

One, that I've noted is better than the last model I saw Leila with.

I wasn't wrong when I said you were the ultimate consumer.

Why do you do this?

Ana

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Sagacity from One So Young

Date: May 27 2011 13:24

To: Anastasia Steele

Fair point well made, as ever, Miss Steele.

Dr. Flynn is on vacation.

And I do this because I can.

Also, myLittle One deserves the best of the best.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

I put the contraption in my back pocket, hating it already but loving it all the same. Emailing Christian is as addictive as heroin, but I am supposed to be working. It buzzes once against my behind . . . How apt, but summoning all my willpower, I ignore it.

At four, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton gather all the other employees in the shop and, during an embarrassing speech, present me with a check for three hundred dollars. In that moment, all the events from the past three weeks—and years—well up inside of me: exams, graduation, an intense, fucked-up billionaire, our affair, punishment, hard and soft limits, playrooms, helicopter rides, and the fact that I will move tomorrow. Amazingly, I hold myself together and manage to hug the Claytons goodbye.

They have been kind and generous employers, and despite the generous circumstances of my future, I will miss them.

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

Kate is climbing out of her car when I arrive home, all long legs and honey blonde hair.

"What's that?" she says accusingly, pointing at the Audi.

"It's a car," I quip. She narrows her eyes, and for a brief moment, I wonder if she's going to put me across her knee, too. "My graduation present." I try to act nonchalant. Yes, I get expensive cars given to me every day.

Her mouth drops open and for once, I realize I've shocked Katherine Kavanagh as she stands before me, gaping like a fish.

"What the fuck? Generous, over-the-top bastard, is what your dear brother-in-law is, isn't he?"

I nod. "I did try not to accept it, but frankly, it's just not worth the fight."

Kate purses her lips. "No wonder you seem overwhelmed when he and Leila come around."

"Yeah." I smile wistfully.

"Shall we finish packing?"

I nod and follow her inside where I decide to fish out my phone to check the email from Christian.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Sunday

Date: May 27 2011 13:40

To: Anastasia Steele

Shall I see you at 1 p.m. Sunday?

I'm leaving for Seattle now.

I hope your move goes well, and I look forward to Sunday.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

He sounds so casual it's as if he's discussing the weather rather than our plans to continue our affair. Wondering what he's planned for Leila to do, while I'm there, I decide to email him once we've finished packing. He can be normal and with one moment and then he can be so formal and stuffy the next. Sometimes it's difficult to keep up.Honestly, it's like an email to an employee. I roll my eyes at his email defiantly and join Kate to finish packing.

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

Kate and I are in the kitchen when there's a knock at the door. Opening it, I find Taylor standing on the porch, looking immaculate in his suit. The now familiar trace of ex-army in his buzz cut, his trim physique, and his cool stare, is what I first notice.

"Miss Steele," he says, "I've come for your car."

"Oh yes, of course. Come in, I'll get the keys."

Surely this is above and beyond the call of duty.

I wonder again about Taylor's job description despite now knowing him for years. I hand him the keys, and we walk in an uncomfortable silence—for me—toward the light blue Beetle. I open the door and remove the flashlight from the glove box along with a few papers. Then I stand back as I have nothing else that's personal in Wanda. Goodbye, Wanda. Thank you, Wanda. Thank you for getting me to and fro for the past four years. I wouldn't have gotten so far without you. I caress her roof as I close the passenger door and smile slightly to myself.

"How long have you worked for Mr. Grey again?" I ask.

"Four years, Miss Steele."

Despite knowing he's probably signed an NDA, I look nervously at him. But he reminds me so much of Ray in his stance, that I warm to him almost immediately.

"He's a good man, Miss Steele," he says with a smile. Then he gives me a little nod, climbs into my car, and drives away.

Apartment, Beetle, Clayton's—it's all changing. One aspect of my life, over and done with.

Shaking my head, I make my way back inside the apartment. The biggest change of all is Christian Grey and the lengths in which we're both willing to go. Taylor believes he's a good man. The only question is if I can believe him. After all, he's keeping Christian's biggest secret yet.

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

The afternoon passes quickly and by eight we're packed and ready to go when José stops by with Chinese takeout and a six-pack of beer.

We sit on the floor together watching crappy reality TV, drinking beer, and reminiscing about the last four years as the alcohol takes effect.

When the doorbell rings it takes me by surprise and for a brief, fleeting moment, I hope that it's Christian. The moment is ruined, however, when Elliot swoops in and picks Kate up in his arms, spinning her around before he kissed her soundly. Having gone out to spend time with a few friends, he's back to spend the last evening in our apartment with Kate before helping us with our move in the morning.

That's what I want. What I crave. What I'll never have if I stand by Christians side—off in the shadows.

After a few moments of being somewhat disgusted by their lack of modesty, José and I make a beeline for it, heading out to the bar down the street. But deep in my mind, I know Christian will not be happy. He's a glutton for punishment and heading out to a bar with José—risking my own safety—definitely fits the bill.

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

It's late when I arrive home from the bar and I've managed to be good and only had two drinks.

Kate and Elliot are nowhere to be seen, but holy fuck can they be heard. Holy shit. I hope I'm not that loud. I know Christian isn't, then again he knows control in all things.

Flushing at the memory, I escape to the confines of my bedroom. Once in my room, I check the laptop, because I've again neglected to charge my cell phone, and of course, there's an email from Christian.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Where Are You?

Date: May 27 2011 22:14

To: Anastasia Steele

"I am at work. I will email you when I get home."

Are you still at work or have you packed your BlackBerry and MacBook?

Call me, or I may be forced to call Elliot.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Crap . . . José . . . shit.

I grab my phone to find five missed calls and one voice message. Tentatively, I listen to the message and of course, it's from Christian.

"I think you need to learn to manage my expectations. I am not a patient man. If you say you are going to contact me when you finish work, then you should have the decency to do so. Otherwise, I worry, and it's not an emotion I'm familiar with, and I don't tolerate it very well. Call me."

Double crap. Will he ever give me a break?I scowl at the phone and with deep dread uncurling in my stomach, I scroll down to his number and press "call." My heart is in my mouth as I wait for him to answer. He'd probably like to beat seven shades of shit out of me. Not that I can blame him. Especially, after I hung out with José of all people—in a bar.

"Hi," he says softly, and his response knocks me off balance because I am expecting his anger, but if anything, he sounds relieved.

"Hi," I murmur.

"I was worried about you."

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't reply, but I'm fine. I'm in one piece and it should please you to know that I think of you every time I take a seat," I quip.

He pauses for a beat.

"Did you have a pleasant evening?" He asks in an overly polite tone.

"Yes. We finished packing and Kate and I had Chinese takeout with José." I close my eyes tightly as I say José's name. Christian says nothing. "How about you?" I ask to fill the sudden deafening chasm of silence. I will not let him make me feel guilty about José.

Eventually, he sighs, "I really wish you would take my words to heart. I don't feel comfortable letting you be alone with that prick."

"Well does that mean you'll accompany me to the opening of his show?"

"When is it?"

"It's June ninth. It's a Thursday. I know it's in the middle of the week but it's important to me and I'm sure Leila will want to go and . . ." I trail off, out of breath after my rambling of words, "And I really don't want to go alone."

"Consider it done. I'm making sure Andrea has the evening marked in my calendar."

"Thank you," I whisper.

"It's not a problem, sweet girl."

"You didn't answer my question."

Again, he sighs, "I went to a fund-raising dinner. It was deathly dull. I left as soon as I could."

He sounds so sad and resigned and my heart clenches at the mere thought. I picture him sitting at the piano in his huge living room and the unbearable bittersweet melancholy of the music he plays late into the night. Would Leila comfort him tonight?

"I wish you were here," I whisper because I have an urge to hold him. I want to soothe him. Even though he won't let me, I want him close. I want to be able to wrap myself around him and run my fingers through his unruly copper locks.

"Do you?" he murmurs blandly. This doesn't sound like him, and my gut churns with apprehension. Is she there?

"Yes," I breathe and after an eternity, he sighs.

"I'll see you Sunday?"

"Yes, Sunday," I murmur, and a thrill courses throughout my body, taking away my brief worry.

"Good night."

"Good night, Sir."

I can tell by his sharp intake of breath, that my use of the address catches him off guard.

"Good luck with your move tomorrow, Anastasia." His voice is soft and I find that we're both hanging on the phone like teenagers, neither wanting to hang up.

"You hang up," I whisper.

"No, you hang up," he whispers huskily and I know he's grinning.

"I don't want to."

"Neither do I," Little One.

And like that, I'm forgiven.

"Were you very angry with me?"

"Yes."

"Are you still?"

"No."

"So you're not going to punish me?"

"No. I'm an in-the-moment kind of guy."

"I've noticed. But I do like your twitchy palm."

"Naughty little minx. You can hang up now, Miss Steele."

"Do you really want me to, Sir?"

"Go to bed, Anastasia."

"Yes, Sir."

Yet we both stay on the line.

"Do you ever think you'll be able to do what you're told?" By his tone, I can tell that he's amused and exasperated all at once.

"Maybe. We'll see after Sunday," I quip and I press "end" on the phone.

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

Elliot admires his handiwork as he stands back, gazing at our large flat screen. He's just plugged the entire system into place so that it's ready for the worker on Monday.

We are officially moved into our Pike Place Market apartment. In all actuality, we're not far from where Christian and Leila live.

Elliot smiles at Kate and she practically melts into a puddle in the middle of the floor, causing me to roll my eyes at the pair of them.

"I wish I could stay, but Mia is back and if I don't attend dinner mom will have my ass. Compulsory family only dinner. Even Leila isn't invited," he says pointedly, sparing me a quick glance.

"Can you come by, after?" Kate asks tentatively.

"Definitely, babe."

"I'll walk you down," Kate smiles.

"Laters, banana," Elliot grins.

"Bye Elliot. Say hi to everyone for me."

"Just hi?" His eyebrows shoot up suggestively as Kate turns towards the door.

"Yes," I flush, shooting him a hard glare. He winks and I flush as he follows Kate out of the apartment.

Elliot is the complete opposite of Christian. He's warm, open, physical-perhaps too physical with Kate at times-and affectionate. The two of them can just barely keep their hands off of each other. To be honest, it's embarrassing watching the two of them together and in truth, I am green with envy.

Around eight, the intercom buzzes. Kate leaps up—and my heart leaps into my mouth.

"Delivery, Miss Steele, Miss Kavanagh." Disappointment flows freely through my veins like an unexpected sting. It's not Christian because it simply can't be. It never was. Never has been. Never will be. Not so long as Leila is around.

"Second floor, apartment two."

Kate buzzes the delivery boy in. His mouth falls open when he sees makeup-free Kate in her attire of tight jeans, T-shirt, and hair piled high with escaping tendrils. She has that effect on men and women alike. He holds a bottle of my now-favorite champagne with a helicopter-shaped balloon attached and she gives him a dazzling smile to send him on his way and proceeds to read the card out to me.

Ladies,

Good luck in your new home.

Christian Grey

Kate shakes her head in disapproval.

"Why can't he just write 'from Christian'? And what's with the weird helicopter balloon?"

"Charlie Tango."

"What?"

"Christian promised to take me to see José's show. We're probably going in his helicopter," I shrug.

Kate stares at me open-mouthed. I love these occasions, especially two in three days time—Katherine Kavanagh, silent and floored—these moments are so rare. I take a brief and luxurious moment to revel in it.

"Of course the obscenely rich bastard has a helicopter. How could I forget?" Kate looks accusingly at me, but she's smiling, shaking her head in disbelief. "But why is Christian taking you? Is he still worried about José?"

"I figured he would be interested in taking Leila. Plus there's the whole José debacle, but it will eventually blow over."

She frowns.

"Are you going to be okay while I'm away?"

"Of course," I reassuringly answer. New city, no job . . . nut-job sister and hot-as-fuck-brother-in-law-that-I'm-secretly-fucking.

"How did he already know our address?" she frowns.

"Stalking is one of his specialties," I muse teasingly, "But in all seriousness, Christian had his team check the area out when he heard we were moving. He wanted to make sure we were safe."

Kate's brow knits further.

"Somehow I'm not surprised. He worries me sometimes, Ana. He's so protective of you. Just imagine if you were the one married to the man. I don't know how your sister deals with it. At least it's a good champagne and it's chilled."

Only Christian would send chilled champagne, or get his secretary to do it . . . or maybe Taylor. We open it then and there before finding our teacups—they were the last items to be packed.

"Bollinger Grande Année Rosé 1999, an excellent vintage." I grin at Kate, and we clink tea cups as a delicious chill runs down my spine at the memories it stirs.

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

I wake early to a gray Sunday morning after a surprisingly refreshing night's sleep and lie awake staring at my pile of boxes. While I really should begin to unpack, I find that I'm too wound up with excitement. Today's the day.

Anticipation hangs heavy and portentous over my head like a dark tropical storm cloud. Butterflies flood my belly—as well as a darker, carnal, captivating ache as I try to imagine what he will do to me once we're finally alone. And of course, I have to sign that damned contract. Or do I?I hear the ping of incoming mail from the open laptop near my bed.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: My Life in Numbers

Date: May 29 2011 08:04

To: Anastasia Steele

If you drive you'll need the new access code for the underground garage at Escala: 146963.

Park in bay five as per usual.

New Code for the elevator: 1880.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: An Excellent Vintage

Date: May 29 2011 08:08

To: Christian Grey

Yes, Sir. Understood.

Thank you for the champagne and the blow-up Charlie Tango, which is now tied to my bed.

Ana

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Envy

Date: May 29 2011 08:11

To: Anastasia Steele

You're welcome.

Don't be late.

Lucky Charlie Tango.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

I find myself rolling my eyes at his bossiness, but despite his dominating tone, his last line makes me smile. I head for the bathroom to get ready, wondering if Elliot made it back from the family sinner last night as I attempt to rein in my nerves.

If Grace requested just her children for dinner, would Leila have shown up anyway? Would he tell me if she did? Would anyone?

Probably not.

P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.I.G.L.I.E.S

At precisely 12:55 p.m., I pull into the garage at Escalaand park in bay five. The Audi SUV and R8 are there, along with two smaller Audi SUVs . . . but it seems as if Leila's car is gone. Hmm. I check my mascara in the light-up mirror on my visor, dabbing my stress tears away from the corner of my eyes. Then, I reapply my Tender Heart lipstick before running my fingers through my hair. With a deep breath, I gather my things and climb out of my car.

In the infinity mirrors of the elevator, I check out my plum dress—well, Kate's plum dress. The last time I wore this, he wanted to peel it off me and that is most definitely the goal today.

If I'm honest, that's always the goal.

My body clenches at the thought and the feeling is just so exquisite, that I need to catch my breath. I'm also wearing the blue panties that Christian once had Taylor pick up for me after the awfully embarrassing night out at the bar with José.

Taylor stands at the double doors as I step out of the elevator.

"Good afternoon, Miss Steele," he says.

"How many times do I need to tell you to call me Ana?"

"Ana." He smiles. "Mr. Grey is expecting you."

I bet he is.

Christian is seated on the living room couch reading the Sunday paper. He glances up as Taylor directs me into the living area and for a moment, I think he might smile. The room is exactly as I remember it—it's been a few weeks since I've been here, but it feels so much longer. Perhaps because to everyone else, it has been. Christian looks calm, cool, and collected—actually, he looks divine as per usual. He's in a loose white linen shirt and jeans, no shoes or socks. His copper hair is tousled and unkempt, and his molten eyes are studying me with a wicked gleam. He rises and strolls toward me, an amused but appraising smile on his beautiful sculptured lips.

There it is.

I stand immobilized at the entrance of the room, paralyzed by his ethereal beauty and the sweet anticipation of what's to come. The familiar charge between us is there, sparking a fire in my depths, drawing me to him like a moth to a flame.

"Hmm . . . that dress," he murmurs approvingly as he gazes down at me. "Welcome back, Miss Steele," he whispers and, clasping my chin, he leans down and gives me a gentle, light kiss on my lips. The touch of his lips to mine reverberates throughout my body causing my breath to hitch.

"Hi," I whisper as I flush.

"You're on time, my good girl. I like punctual. Come, Little One." He takes my hand and leads me to the couch. "I wanted to show you something," he says as we sit. He hands me the Seattle Times and I find that on page eight, there's a photograph of the two of us together at the graduation ceremony. They've cut Leila out. Holy shit. I check the caption.

Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele at the graduation ceremony at WSU Vancouver.

I laugh. "So I'm your 'friend' now."

"So it would appear. And it's in the newspaper, so it must be true." He smirks.

"What did she think of this?"

Christian's brow furrows as he stares down at the paper, "She wasn't pleased, but she can hardly blame either of us for it. Although she did demand I call the paper and have them correct the image."

"Did you?" I ask incredulously.

"No, I rather like this version. Though if she asks, I called and left a message. They have yet to return said call, I'm afraid," he smirks.

"How tragic."

Sitting beside me, his whole body is turned toward me, one of his legs tucked under the other. Reaching over, he tucks my hair behind my ear with his long index finger. My body comes alive, wanting and needing more of his experienced touch.

"So, Anastasia, you have a much better idea of what is going to occur, now that you're here in Seattle for good."

"Yes."

"And yet you've returned."

I nod shyly, suddenly feeling unsure, and his eyes blaze. He shakes his head as if he's struggling with the idea.

"Have you eaten?" he asks out of the blue.

Shit.

"No."

"Are you hungry?" He's really trying not to look annoyed.

"Not for food," I whisper, and his nostrils flare in reaction.

He leans forward and whispers in my ear. "You are as eager as ever, Miss Steele, and just to let you in on a little secret, so am I. But," He sits up. "You need to eat," he scolds me mildly. My heated blood cools at the sound of an accusation.

"What if we eat later?" I ask to distract us both.

"First we have a few things to talk about. What more can I say?" He shrugs.

"I thought we went over everything the other night?"

He gives me a don't-be-ridiculous look.

"I think we still need to have a talk. Don't you?" he says mildly. I nod sullenly. "Anastasia, my mother would like you to come to dinner this evening. I believe Elliot is asking Kate, too. I don't know how you feel about that considering how we're spending our day. It may feel a bit odd."

Odd? Why?

"Are you ashamed of me because of what happened the other morning?" I can't keep the hurt out of my voice.

"Of course not." He rolls his eyes.

"Why is it odd then?"

"Because we're going to have to go from being one on one to individuals against a room of people who have no idea what's going on. Besides Elliot that is."

"Why are you allowed to roll your eyes, and I'm not?"

He blinks at me. "I wasn't aware that I was."

"Neither am I, usually," I snap.

Christian glares at me, speechless. Taylor appears in the doorway.

"Will you be taking your car today, sir?"

"Yes, I'll be driving. You're free this afternoon, Taylor."

Driving?

"Ready for some adventure?" he asks as he stands and holds out his hand to me.

"You're not giving me more gifts are you?" I gasp, shocked.

He laughs. "I'd give you the world if I could Anastasia, but I don't think you would approve."

I take his hand, and he pulls me up into his arms before he kisses me deeply. I clutch his arms, taken by surprise as his hand finds its way into my hair, holding my head, and then he pulls me against him, his forehead against mine.

"I'm so glad you're here," he whispers. "I can't wait to get you naked." His lips leave a trail of kisses down the side of my face and to the shell of my ear.

For a moment he buried the tip of his nose against my hair before nuzzling my ear, then he proceeds to bite down on the lobe gently. Pulling back, he once again rests his forehead against mine, looking into my eyes with his storm gray irises. His next words are of no surprise.

"But most of all, I can't wait to be buried deep inside of you, Little One."

A Note from the Author:

Hello Lovelies,

I fought naps all day to get this out tonight. It's a little later than I would have liked. But nevertheless, here it is. Editing was quick, so forgive any mistakes.

As you must have guessed, I'm still fighting a cold. And with chronic pain, fatigue, and migraines thrown in, I'm feeling a bit beat. Ironic huh?

Anyways . . . feel free to friend me on Facebook under Sara Reed or join the group Sara Jo Updates for updates, teasers, and more. Just copy the link into a url bar and remove the spaces: h t t p : / / m . f a c e b o o k . c o m / g r o u p s / 2 1 5 8 4 7 9 2 7 4 4 3 2 3 2 4

Recommended FanFiction: Sweet Surrender by Madison Quinn

xoxo,

Sara Jo