Chapter 27 Newlywed Trips to Dubai & Paris (Ana's POV)

December 30

"I don't want to leave," I told Christian as we were packing our bags. "I think it's safe to say that your Aspen cabin is my new favorite place."

"Our Aspen cabin, Ana," he corrected me. "And we can come back here anytime you want to. We don't have to wait til Christmas."

"I still can't believe you got Mariah Carey to sing at our wedding… on Christmas Eve! It's a miracle she was available at such short notice."

He smiled at me lovingly, melting my heart. "One of many Christmas miracles."

"Yeah… one of many," I agreed. "I still can't believe my dad! To think… just three months ago, we thought he'd be paralyzed by now, and instead… he's having another kid!"

My dad had whispered that secret in my ear during our father/daughter dance at my wedding on Christmas Eve. He'd asked me to keep it a secret for now, but of course, I had to tell Christian. Dad was over the moon but nervous as hell. They hadn't known until Patrice had gone to the hospital after her skiing accident. Dad said that if he'd known she was pregnant, he never would have let her get on the slopes in the first place. He'd been so certain that he was unable to have children, and he knew they were both clean, so he hadn't bothered with birth control. In my own mind, that was just crazy. I was religious about my birth control. No way did I want to have children yet. Christian and I needed to be married a few years before we even considered adding to our family. Thankfully, he agreed with me about that.

"Are you OK with having a sibling?" Christian asked me. "You've been his only child for your entire life. How do you really feel about your dad having another child?"

His question surprised me. Why wouldn't I be happy? "I'm really, really happy for him. He was never able to have a biological child, and now he is. And I really like Patrice. She's good for him. She doesn't take any bullshit from him. And I think she'll be a great mom. She's a natural care-giver. Very nurturing."

I didn't mention the one thing that I was worried most about, that Dad wouldn't live to see his child born. Like he always reminded me, he wasn't promised tomorrow. Well, he'd gotten his wish to walk me down the aisle. Now, we just had to keep our fingers crossed that he'd live long enough to hold his newborn child. And before that, to marry Patrice, which he was determined to do as soon as she would agree on a date.

As we walked out to our SUV, where all our bags were already packed, Christian suggested that we return for another ski trip before winter was over.

"What, you want to get me on the black slopes so soon?" I teased him. I finally understood what the black slopes were, although I was far from ready for them.

"Ana, there's no way in hell I'll ever get you on the black slopes," Christian promised me. "I've been thinking about this since we mentioned it before. I'll consider the red slopes, but only if you keep skiing as well as you did this time on the blue ones. You enjoyed yourself, didn't you?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I had fun. This was a good few days, especially after everyone else went home. Not that I didn't enjoy having them all here, too, but I liked having you to myself for a few days, in our own little bubble. I wish we could have stayed longer, just the two of us."

Well, the two of us, and all of our security and cooking and cleaning staff. They'd given us our space, though, so I wasn't complaining.

Christian sighed contentedly. "I never knew I could be this happy, Ana," he said.

I had to agree. I felt pretty damn happy myself. Life was good, and it was only getting better and better. We were leaving one amazingly beautiful home, the vacation home in Aspen, Colorado that I now shared with my husband, and we were headed to New York City, to the luxury apartment on Fifth Avenue that I also shared with my husband. I had only been there once before, several months ago, on a work trip with Christian. We'd stayed in that apartment, but I'd had my own room. This time, I would be sharing the owner's suite with Christian. My husband. I was still getting used to that idea. I was the wife of a billionaire. And I had the bank account to prove it, which Christian had made sure of. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to wrap my brain around that.

We would only be in NYC for two nights, but they were going to be eventful. Tonight, we were going to see Othello on Broadway. Then tomorrow, we would do some New Years' Eve sightseeing, followed by watching the fireworks in Central Park from our apartment window. I had suggested going to Time Square to watch the ball drop, but Christian wouldn't even consider braving that crowd. He said that things are even crazier than usual at this time of year.

That was fine, though, because I preferred the safety of home, and I liked Christian's apartment… well, our apartment. He constantly reminded me that everything that was his was also mine. It was a lot to process. Our whirlwind romance hadn't given me time to think about Christian's wealth becoming mine, too. I didn't need all that. Christian knew I didn't need all that. All I wanted was him.

But it really was nice to be able to take a private plane from Colorado to New York to go see Othello with the best seats in the house. And it was great having front row seats to the fireworks without even having to leave home. It was also beyond anything to create our own fireworks in our private apartment while watching the fireworks out the window. Christian made my body sing as we listened to the booms of the fireworks. I'm not sure how much of the show at Central Park he actually watched, as his attention was completely on me. I wasn't complaining; I really enjoyed his sexpertise. He could keep paying that kind of attention to me anytime he wanted.

Christian and I didn't stay up too late past midnight on New Years Eve because we had another flight in a few hours… to Dubai. This was quite a long flight, and we ate several meals on the plane. Once again, I was thankful we had a private plane… with a bedroom where we could sleep when we needed to. Flying commercial for such a long distance would have been miserable.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, Christian took a business call from Rashid Shariq, the guy in Dubai that he was planning to meet. We were making this trip for this purpose, so it was an important call. Christian wanted to merge the Dubai company with GEH and possibly make it our Middle Eastern headquarters. They mainly discussed details of our trip, our itinerary for the next few days. The business negotiations would come later, after a bit of wining and dining. And shopping, apparently. At least, it was one of the things they discussed… that I would go shopping with Mrs. Shariq. Yea, me. Shopping. Ah, well, anything for Christian.

Immediately after he finished his call, Christian asked me, "What did you decide about your MBA studies?"

"Why are you asking me now?" I asked curiously. I wondered what about his conversation with Rashid Shariq had reminded him of my delayed studies.

He explained, "I kind of zoned out when he was talking about all the hospitality shit they have planned for us, and I thought of it. I've been meaning to ask you for days, but something else always came up. But when you didn't mention a date that you had to be back by, I assumed you'd either extended your leave of absence, or you were planning to start online."

I didn't have to think because I'd already decided a couple of weeks ago, before our wedding and Christmas. I hadn't bothered to talk to Christian about it yet because there were so many other important things that kept our attention.

I answered, "Your first assumption was the correct one. I'm going to put it off to August. That will make it nice and clean. I've finished the first year. It ended in May. I'll have taken off one full year, and then I can begin with the next academic year. That way, I can keep taking the classes on campus that I prefer. I won't have time this Spring. There's just too much happening between now and then, and I don't feel I could give it enough attention. We just got married, and I don't want that kind of stress as a newlywed. I think we already have enough stress as it is. We have to find a replacement for me at GEH, and then, maybe I can take a closer look at SIP. I considered waiting until I finish my degree before starting there, but maybe I can work part-time until I finish my degree. I'm still not sure about how to get started there, whether I want to be a secret boss like Mia had planned to be at Ciel de Grey, or if I should make myself known from the beginning."

"There's time to decide that. Maybe it would be good to have a few conversations with Jerry Roach before you make a decision," Christian suggested. "He's still the CEO of SIP for now. I haven't had a good reason to let him go yet, and I also wanted to wait for you before I do anything about him."

I nodded. "Yeah, I should talk to him," I agreed. "What do you think of him?"

Christian shrugged. "I think his days are numbered. He's probably getting ready to retire soon, so you could let him go out gracefully. He hasn't been a horrible boss or anything, but he doesn't have much vision. He's purposefully kept things small. There's a lot of potential for growth with new leadership."

"Haven't you already merged SIP with another publishing house? Acorn Publishing?" I recalled.

"It's in the works, not completed yet," he replied. "That's the plan, though."

Hmm… Honestly, the thought of going to work as the new CEO of SIP, as Christian envisioned me doing, was daunting. I knew I didn't want that. What I wasn't sure of was what I did want, at least in the immediate future. I could see myself as the CEO in about five years from now, but not yet. I still had too much I needed to learn first about being a business leader.

"I was thinking," Christian said, getting my attention again. "You and Mia hated the name of the Mile High Club. Personally, I'm happy with the new name of our restaurant, but I still like the idea of the Mile High Club. You and I have been on this plane together many times in the past year, but joining the Mile High Club was never a possibility, even though I secretly fantasized about it. Until now. How about it, wifey?"

If he was trying to be romantic, he wasn't succeeding. He just made me laugh really hard. "Christian, that's one of the corniest things I've ever heard you say."

He smiled at me lovingly. "If I could bottle that sound, I would. I love making you giggle. Come on, Ana, let's go spend some quality time in the bedroom. I'm hungry for Matilda."

He didn't have to ask me twice, although I was still giggling as I followed him to the back of the plane. At the moment, though, I was laughing just as much at myself as I was at Christian because he'd just reminded me of the practical joke I'd played on him on our wedding day when I'd sent him a message through Kate about Matilda. I knew Christian would be nervous with it being our wedding day and all, so I thought it would do him some good to have a good laugh. It had worked, so I'd heard later, from both Kate and Christian. Kate had been shocked that, in her words, Christian had "giggled like a little girl." Well, good. Mission accomplished. I still hadn't told Kate who Matilda was. I'd made her wait until I get back to Seattle. With any luck, she'd forget about it.

Christian wasn't going to forget about it, though. After our wedding, he could hardly wait to get me alone, just to see for himself what I'd done to "dress up Matilda." Well, there hadn't been time to get waxed, and I didn't think I'd want to do that anyway, so I'd settled for shaving. And I'd shaved it all, which I'd never done before. Christian approved, which he let me know. He also approved of the fancy white lace thong that I'd worn. And if I'd thought his oral skills were amazing before, I didn't have the words to describe what they were now, and I was a literature major. Well, it had been one of my majors, anyway. Yeah, Christian had enjoyed my little joke, but he still couldn't believe I'd sent that message to him through Kate, of all people. Well, it would have been different if she'd had any idea what I was talking about. It made it funnier that she didn't know the meaning of the message. With any luck, I would never need to tell her.

Federal law prohibits fireworks on commercial flights, and we didn't want any real fireworks on our private flight either, but I saw plenty of fireworks in the bedroom of Christian's airplane. I think I passed out after the fifth orgasm. Wow! Holy shit, I think Christian's sexpertise improved with marriage. The talent in that tongue of his was just as impressive as all of his other talents, if not more so. And Christian Grey was a multi-talented man.

Then, once we got to Dubai, we were met by our hosts at the airport in a limousine. They'd taken us to our hotel and spent about an hour having cocktails with us and just chatting about meaningless shit. I had read enough about Arabic culture to be surprised that both of our hosts drank alcoholic beverages. Apparently, they weren't strict followers of Islam. That was also evident in the fact that Mrs. Shariq removed her head covering as soon as we were in our private living area. Her hair and make-up were immaculate, as was her designer dress. Yes, this woman enjoyed her wealth; that was obvious. She also wasn't shy about checking out my husband, but, to be fair, he was looking yummy, as usual. We were both dressed casually in jeans and short-sleeved shirts. I couldn't help but notice that Mr. Shariq was checking me out just as much as his wife was Christian. No matter how often it happened, I never got used to men like him looking at me like that. Both of them were old enough to be our parents, but they both obviously tried to look younger than they were. I suspected they both had botox treatments, the way their eyes looked.

In spite of their obvious interest in us, our hosts spoke very politely, without any innuendo. We enjoyed fireworks from the window of our hotel, the real kind that lit up the sky, not the kind Christian and I had enjoyed on the airplane. Although… we were about as high up as we'd been on the airplane. We were in a presidential suite higher up than I'd ever been in my life, on the seventieth floor of the JW Marriott Marquis Dubai, which was currently the tallest hotel in Dubai, at least for a few more weeks, until the Gevora Hotel, the tallest hotel in the world, would open next month. It was only slightly taller than the hotel we were currently staying in, though. And the presidential suite where we were currently sipping our cocktails with our hosts, was immaculate. The floors were marble, and the rugs looked antique. And the glasses we were currently drinking out of were real crystal. I found out a little later that there was even a bidet in the bathroom. I'd never seen one in person before, only in pictures. I had no idea how to use it, but I was determined to figure it out before we left here.

The fireworks were at eye level, and the colors were magnificent. I had been surprised that there were still fireworks, since it was a few days into the new year. Apparently, we had arrived just in time for the annual shopping festival, and the fireworks were a weekly occurrence during the shopping festival. Just the idea of a shopping festival made me tired, but I knew I would need to suck it up and play nice because our hosts would expect me to enjoy shopping, and we wanted to impress them enough for the merger to go through.

So, that's what I did. The next afternoon, while Christian played golf with Mr. Shariq, I went with his wife to a shopping mall not far from our hotel. And I spent a ridiculous amount of money on post-wedding gifts for the people who had helped us pull off our Christmas surprise wedding. I found a Gucci handbag for Mia that I knew she would love, just her style. I got Kate's mom some emerald earrings that I thought would look fantastic on her. For Kate herself, I got some of her favorite perfume, which I found at a great deal. I also splurged on a few gifts for my dad and Patrice that I knew they'd like. They were going to be getting married soon, and I thought they would like the place settings I found for them. I also found a couple of dresses for myself. Work clothes. Mrs. Shariq had wanted to shop for cocktail dresses, but I was getting a headache, so I begged her to postpone more shopping until the next day.

Two days later, I was so fed up with the Dubai Shopping Festival that I would have been OK if we never returned. Have I mentioned that shopping is not my thing? And it seemed that it was all I was expected to do while we were here. I'd barely even seen my husband because he was off doing "men things" while I shopped. And I was done.

Well, there was another reason why I was done, something that happened at lunch that day. Mrs. Shariq and I had eaten lunch out for the past couple of days, at a crowded restaurant in another crowded shopping mall. Over lunch that day, Mrs. Shariq, who insisted that I call her Zeynab, made a suggestion that confirmed my suspicions from the first night we'd met them, that they were interested in doing more than just business with us.

"Your husband is a very handsome man," she began, kind of out of the blue, as we ate our chicken and veggie kebabs.

I had to think fast. Was this a common compliment in her culture? Better to just play along, just in case. I had been working hard for the past few days making sure that we didn't have awkwardness in our conversations.

"Thank you. I agree, he is," I responded politely.

Zeynab leaned forward and smiled mischievously as she continued, "My husband also thinks you're very beautiful, and I agree with him, of course. May I ask you a very personal question?"

I had no idea what she was about to ask, but I assumed it would have something to do with skin care or other beauty secrets. I wouldn't have a good answer. I simply washed my face and moisturized daily, but not with any expensive products. I didn't have any beauty secrets to divulge.

"Of course," I replied, still doing my best to be polite.

She asked, "Do you and your husband ever… what's the word? Share? What I mean is… Are you open to the idea of your husband going to bed with another woman while you go to bed with that woman's husband?"

Oh God, she was asking me if Christian and I were swingers? There was only one reason why she'd want to know that. No. Just… no.

I'm sure she saw the shock on my face, and I wasn't able to keep up my usual politeness when I responded emphatically, that no, we didn't "share."

But she didn't let it go easily. "You're so young, so new in your marriage. You will do well to learn this early on. Marriage is what you make it. If you make it more interesting from the beginning, it's more likely to last longer. You Americans divorce every five minutes. I've never wanted to divorce my husband. He gives me everything I need, and I give him everything he needs."

"Christian and I will never divorce," I told her confidently. "And we will also never share. We don't need to do that. I would never want to do that."

She smiled and shrugged. "Ah, well, that's a pity. My husband is a very satisfying lover."

If that were true, why would she want to sleep with my husband? And if she satisfied her own husband, why would he want to sleep with me. I didn't ask her these questions because I really wanted to end the conversation now.

I racked my brain for a change of topic and found one. I told Zeynab, "The lotion I purchased yesterday smells really nice. I think my dad's fiancee would love it. I think I'd like to go back to that shop and buy some more of it."

She politely followed my lead at dropping the subject of swinging, and it didn't come up again. I was also able to cut our shopping trip shorter than usual by complaining with a headache again, which was true. I was exhausted from all the shopping.

And thankfully, because of my headache, Christian and I were able to enjoy a quiet dinner alone in our suite instead of going out to another expensive fancy restaurant with our hosts.

"How are you getting on without your assistant?" I asked Christian casually as we had dinner together. He seemed agitated for some reason.

He replied, "We haven't really gotten to the business talks yet. All this… golfing and shit… it was necessary for building the kind of relationship we wanted to have with them. We needed to build trust."

"You're using past tense, and you sound... not impressed," I noticed. "Do you not feel like you've done that?"

"Not at all," he admitted. "I sure as hell don't trust him after the shit he pulled today. I'm considering just packing up and going home tomorrow, and just telling him to go fuck himself."

"What did he do?" I asked curiously. I had thought things were going well between them.

"He wants to fuck you while I fuck his wife," Christian told me bluntly. "He just came out and told me, just like that, on the golf course today."

I took a moment to process that, and then I burst into a fit of giggles. When I was able to speak, I told Christian, "His wife asked me at lunch today if we ever shared. Basically, she was asking if you and I are swingers, but she didn't have the vocabulary. I told her no, that we weren't interested, and she told me that it was a good way to keep things interesting, so you'd never want to divorce. I let her know that you and I will never divorce or share. I made it clear that neither of us would ever want to do either of those things. No, thank you. This is funny. They planned it. Wow."

Christian didn't find it as funny as I did. Not at all. "I'm not impressed. Let's go home, Ana. We can find another company in this part of the world. I don't trust this son of a bitch as far as I can throw him. And I feel like I've just wasted the past two days playing fucking golf. I hate golf. Who comes to Dubai to golf, anyway? It's boring as hell. And a damn waste of land in a country that doesn't have a whole lot of land suitable for that kind of thing. Who the hell builds a golf course in the middle of the fucking desert?"

"I hate shopping," I told him. "Lots of people come here to shop. That's why the malls are all so crowded. It's crazy. Our temporary security have earned their money this week, with all the crowds I've been in. I think I'd rather golf than shop, and I'm a terrible golfer. At least… I've only ever gone putt-putt golfing, but I'm really bad at it."

Christian finally cracked a smile. "I'd enjoy putt-putt golfing with you, especially if you wear those jeans you were wearing our first night here. No wonder that old bastard couldn't keep his sorry eyes off you. Let's go home, Ana. Well, actually, we still have Paris. We can spend a couple of extra days there now. Mia's teachers won't be ready to leave for Seattle until Monday, after my meeting with their dean."

So that's what we did. We didn't even need to say goodbye to our hosts. Christian ended the business relationship in a phone call. I had a feeling it wasn't the culturally appropriate way to do things, but I didn't care at this point. I can't say that I didn't like Dubai. It was a very beautiful and interesting city. I loved the architecture and all the different sights. If Christian and I had had more time together to enjoy ourselves, I think we would have liked it a lot more.

But before I knew it, we were in Paris. Our flight was a lot shorter than the one coming had been, and we got there in time to do some sightseeing. This wasn't our first time in Paris, but we were together now, so it was a lot more romantic than it had been before, when we'd both been keeping our feelings a secret from each other.

Christian owned two apartments in the same complex. The first, he'd bought for Mia, and the second was for extra security. Our last trip, we'd stayed in a hotel because Mia had been here at the time. But this time, we stayed in Mia's apartment. It was probably the smallest apartment that Christian Grey would have ever purchased, but it was plenty big enough for Mia and for us on this trip. Upstairs, there were two bedrooms that shared a bathroom. There was another half bathroom on the ground floor near the entrance and the sitting room. Christian complained that the kitchen was too small, but it was larger than the one in my efficiency apartment, and probably larger than most Parisian kitchens. It even had a full-sized refrigerator, although it was still probably half the size of the one back in our Escala penthouse. I actually liked this apartment a lot.

We spent a couple of days just sightseeing. We even got to spend a few hours at the Palace of Versailles, and I was happy to see that the gardens still looked nice, even at this time of year. It was a sunny day, although quite cold, but we were dressed warm, so we enjoyed the walk in the gardens. The palace itself was spectacular. So much history here. I really enjoyed it.

We also went to the Louvre. I wasn't as impressed as I had been with the palace, but Christian and I were together, not working, so it was nice. My favorite thing that we did in Paris this time was finding that little cafe where we'd enjoyed the duck confit last time we were here and reenacting that "date" as an actual date this time. We even shared desserts, just like last time. But unlike last time, we kissed all the way back to our apartment, and then spent a few hours creating "fireworks" in the bedroom.

We didn't actually meet Mia's professors until the morning of our departure, after we met with the dean of the school and officially gave them the grant that Christian had promised. There were photos and fanfare, and it was all a bit much, but it didn't last long, and then we could be on our way home. Although we hadn't met in person until that day, I felt that I already knew the two professors because of our earlier communications planning this trip. I had spoken with both of them more than once by phone as we arranged the details. They would both fly with us to Seattle, spend a day getting acclimated to the new time zone, and then begin Mia's exams on Wednesday. She would have two afternoons of exams, and they would let her know by Thursday night whether she had passed or not. They would have the weekend in Seattle for sightseeing before leaving to return to France on Sunday afternoon, putting them in France by Monday morning.

I liked Professor Louis Dior a lot. He was probably around Elliot's age, very handsome, and very jovial. It was clear from the beginning, even in our telephone conversations, that the man liked to laugh a lot and make others laugh. He was very laid back and casual, which, not surprisingly, Christian didn't like. Half the time that we were planning this trip, it had seemed that Christian thought Professor Dior was flirting with me, when he really wasn't. He was just being friendly. But Christian didn't think his jokes were funny. I was afraid that Christian was going to be rude to him for no legitimate reason.

No, Christian was friendlier with the other professor, Matilda Tremblay. I should have known better than to have given my vagina that horrible nickname when I was trying to make Christian relax that day in his office. Now, "Matilda" as my vagina was with us to stay, which made things very awkward when we met someone with that actual name. I tried to tell myself that it was no different than a man named Dick. But it was no good. Leading up to actually meeting her in person, I giggled to myself whenever Christian or I mentioned her name. Christian didn't even seem to get the reference, but that was probably because he was doing his usual formal thing and just referring to her as Professor Tremblay. I, on the other hand, was already on a first name basis with Louis and Matilda.

Finally, the night before we were to meet them, I brought up their names to Christian.

"Are you looking forward to meeting Louis Dior and Matilda Tremblay in person tomorrow?" I asked him. I couldn't hide my smirk as I mentioned her name.

But Christian seemed to have only noticed the first name I mentioned. "As long as the 'golden' boy behaves himself and doesn't flirt with my wife, we'll be OK," he said threateningly. Yeah, leave it to Christian to make the reference to Dior meaning "golden" in French.

I sighed. "Christian, Louis wasn't flirting with me. He was just being friendly. He's a friendly guy. I like him, but you don't have anything to be afraid of. I'm more concerned about her."

Christian looked confused. "Professor Tremblay? Why? She's a fifty-year-old lesbian who by all appearances is happily married to her wife, a law professor in the same university. What's there to be afraid of?"

Yeah, I knew all of that information from her background report, but it was irrelevant.

"I can't even say her name without cracking up," I admitted to Christian. "So far, it hasn't mattered, because she couldn't see my face when we were talking on the phone. But in person… it'll be more difficult. I've got to get ahold of myself."

"What's wrong with her name?" Christian asked confusedly. "It might not suit her as well as the golden boy's name suits him, but there's nothing wrong with it."

I sighed again. "Christian, do you ever learn anybody's first names that you do business with?" I asked him.

He cracked a smile. "What's her first name?" he asked.

"Matilda," I answered, which made him crack up. And once he started laughing, it took him a few moments to stop.

"Matilda Tremblay…" Christian said through his giggles. "Like… Matilda was really trembly the first time she met Little Grey, because, in your own words, he wasn't little at all. God, Ana! You're hilarious! Where do you come up with this shit?"

"I know, right?" I agreed. "I keep telling myself that it's no different than a man named Dick. Lots of men are named Dick. Dick Cheney. Dick Clark. Dick Durban."

"Dick Van Dyke," Christian contributed.

I nodded and told him, "Dad had a good friend when I was growing up named Dick Harden, and somehow I'd managed to talk to him and about him without cracking up. It would have been embarrassing to tell Dad what I found funny about his name, so I just decided it wasn't funny. But Matilda Tremblay is another story. Her name is hilarious because of my own silliness. Why do I do these things to myself? It was the most ridiculous thing in the world for me to give my pussy that nickname."

Christian smiled at me adoringly. "I love that you did that. You did it to make me laugh, and it worked. It still makes me laugh. You're so quirky, and I love you so much. I wouldn't change a thing about you, Ana. You're fucking perfect."

I smiled back at him, but I told him, "Thanks, but it's not helpful. How the hell am I going to be able to talk to Matilda Tremblay with a straight face?"

"Maybe just avoid using her name?" Christian suggested with a smirk. "Besides, once we get back to Seattle, we probably won't see a whole lot of either of them. Mia will take over. We'll be back to work and busier than ever."

That was little consolation.

As it turned out, however, I was worried for nothing. Matilda Tremblay slept most of the way to Seattle. What little conversation we had was pleasant, and I managed not to laugh in her face. I also managed not to use her name at all while talking with her, which wasn't noticeable. It all worked out OK, and I doubted I would see much of her this week. Like Christian said, we would be too busy.

We talked a lot more with Louis Dior on the plane, and I felt that Christian might possibly be warming up to him. At least, Christian seemed to recognize the difference between Louis's friendly banter and flirting. The old guy in Dubai had wanted to fuck me; Louis Dior did not. Or, at least, if he did, he didn't make it obvious.

"I was really happy when you asked us to come help Mia with her exams," Louis told Christian. I liked his accent. "She's so talented, and I'm glad she's going to be able to finish the program. Besides, I love the United States. I visit every chance I get. It's my first time to go to Seattle. The closest I've been is San Francisco. But usually, I'm on the East Coast, either Florida or New York."

Christian replied conversationally, "Yeah, you spend a lot less time in the air visiting New York than you do Seattle. But Washington is a pretty state. I hope you get to see a little of it during your trip. The weather's a lot more temperate than the Northeastern part of the country, at least in Seattle. We don't get a whole lot of snow. Not like New York. You wouldn't be able to avoid snow in New York this time of year. In Seattle, there's a little more of a possibility."

"Seattle sounds like my kind of place," Louis commented. "I don't mind a little snow, but I'd prefer not to have to drive in it. Besides that, Seattle is famous for its music. I'm a big fan of grunge."

"If you're a grunge fan, I'm surprised you haven't made it to Seattle before now," I told him.

"I know, right?" he agreed. "The stars just haven't aligned until now. I'm glad they finally have."

The rest of our trip was pleasant chit chat like this. We napped somewhere over the Atlantic, and then chatted more as we had a meal together before arriving in Seattle.

At the airport, Mia was waiting with about half a dozen security people. After hugs and greetings, she loaded her professors up in one SUV while Christian and I took another one home to Escala. Home sweet home. I had actually missed this place.

We'd arrived around midday Seattle time, and even though we hadn't gotten much sleep, we decided to push ourselves and stay awake until tonight so we could try to get our body clocks back to normal. We didn't go in to GEH, but Christian video conferenced with Ros, and I took notes. There were no catastrophes while we were away, thankfully. Ros and Sebastian were holding down the fort. It was OK for Christian and me to wait to come in until the next day. Ros encouraged us to spend some time together, just the two of us, and get back to work tomorrow. I liked the sound of that.

"How about we soak in the bathtub for a while," Christian suggested. I loved the sound of that even more. I loved it when Christian rubbed my shoulders and back in the tub. And when he moved his hands to my breasts and kissed my neck. Oh, this was heaven.

"Are you happy to be home?" Christian asked me.

"Mmm hmm," I replied. I was really relaxed and didn't really want to talk at the moment.

"I'm glad Gail took care of all the Christmas decorations," Christian commented.

"I was a little disappointed that she already cleared them away," I responded. I liked all our Christmas decorations, but it was already mid-January now, so it made sense that Gail had packed them away. "Where did she put it all, anyway? Your basement storage unit is full of my furniture."

"Probably in one of the spare rooms upstairs," Christian answered.

That reminded me of his old playroom. His Zen room. "You never did show me your Zen room," I reminded him. "Will you let me see it now that I'm your wife?"

Christian didn't respond right away. His hands, which had been kneading my shoulders, stilled. After hesitating too long, he asked, "Today? Umm… can you wait… a day or two?"

I turned and looked at him confusedly. Why was he acting weird? "What is it, Christian? It's not like you to be so… secretive."

He sighed and moved to get out of the tub. "You're right. I don't keep secrets from you. And I've been keeping this one from you long enough. You're absolutely right. You have a right to know."

Now he'd really peaked my curiosity. We dried off and put on our bathrobes. I followed him upstairs. Outside the door of his old playroom, he turned to me and said, "Please promise me not to freak out."

That statement scared the shit out of me, and my mind went all sorts of places. "Christian Grey, you better not have built a new playroom in there," I warned him.

"No, Ana, it's my Zen room. I told you the truth about that. I truly am not interested in anything that my old playroom represented. I don't want that life or anything that went with it. I only want this new life, with you. This is my Zen room. That's true. I just didn't tell you about… my artwork."

He opened the door without waiting for me to respond, and I followed him into the room. And there, staring back at me, was… me. Four extra large photographs of me, in living color. And I looked sexy as hell in all four of them.

"Where did you get these?" I asked Christian confusedly.

He looked ashamed of himself as he answered me. He was very forthcoming. "That photographer you used to date had them displayed for the entire world to see. I bought them and had them removed from his show as soon as I found out about them."

Shit! Jose fucking Rodrigues had taken these photographs without my knowledge, and he'd been displaying them at an art show that Kate had found out about. When I'd called him and asked him to remove them, he'd agreed immediately with a halfhearted apology. That had been months ago.

"When did you buy these?" I asked Christian calmly. I wasn't going to yell at him. I wasn't going to yell at him. I wasn't going to yell at him. But, God, I wanted to yell at him. How could he have kept this from me?

"Umm… last Spring," he replied, still shamefully. "I forget the exact date. I can look it up. I didn't want anybody else to see you like this."

"No, just you," I commented, still very calmly.

Christian looked at me worriedly. "Yes, just me," he admitted. "I know I should have told you, but… Well, it was long before we were… you know, together. I knew you wouldn't understand. You wouldn't want me to have them."

"You knew I wouldn't want you to have them, but you bought them anyway and hung them up in here?" I asked him. I think I still sounded fairly calm.

"I didn't hang them in here when I bought them," he explained. "They were in my office, but not hanging up. They were in a closet there. I only hung them in here after I returned from England."

That didn't make me feel any better.

"Christian, explain this to me. You told me that if I saw your Zen room, that I would take up too much attention, and that your focus needed to be on your own mental health. But all that time, I was already hanging on the damn wall, nearly naked in two of the photos, and looking too damn sexy in the other two. How the hell have you been able to focus on your own mental health instead of your obsession with me?"

He explained, "I sit in the chair under the photographs, so I'm not facing them. I don't look at them while I'm meditating. I know they're there, and… I feel comforted by their presence, especially now that you're my wife. When I hung them there, it was because they gave me hope. By then, I knew that you were going to be mine. I knew I was determined to wait for you. You were already my best friend, and I believed you would be more."

Finally, I told him exactly what I thought of his photographs of me. "I'm not happy at all that you purchased these from my former friend without my knowledge. I'm not happy at all that neither you nor he thought I had a right to know about that transaction. These images are of me, and he sold them to you without telling me or getting my permission. I could sue him for that. And you… God, Christian, you're just so entitled! You sit here, in your mansion in the sky, and you just take whatever you want because you can afford it! You didn't stop to consider how I would feel. You didn't think to tell me about them because I might have asked you to remove them, and you didn't want that. You know, I would have given you photographs if you'd asked. I could have given you better ones than these."

I pointed to the photo of me lying in bed, with my breast partially exposed. "See that one? He took it without my knowledge. He invaded my privacy and betrayed me by taking it, and then he betrayed me again by exhibiting it, and then he betrayed me a third time by selling it to you. It makes me sick that you have any of them, but especially that one."

"You feel like I betrayed you, too" Christian noted correctly. "But, Ana, I never meant you any harm. It was never my intention…"

"Of course it wasn't," I interrupted. "But you didn't think about my feelings. You only thought about yourself. You wanted them, so you bought them."

"I didn't want that asshole showing them to the world," Christian insisted.

"Well, I appreciate that," I told him sincerely. "But the right thing to do would have been to purchase them and then give them to me. Not keep them without my knowledge. It's… creepy."

"I'm sorry, babe. I didn't think…" he began.

"No, you didn't think," I agreed. "You know what, Christian? I think now's a good time for me to go catch up with Kate. I need some space."

Christian looked horrified, as if I had just told him I was leaving for good. No, that wasn't anything remotely close to what was happening right now.

"Ana, you can't leave me," Christian begged me fearfully. "I'm sorry, and I'll remove them. I'll destroy them. Whatever you want. Just please… don't leave me."

"I'm not leaving you, Christian," I told him calmly. I still felt angry, but I'd expressed it to him, and now I was going to wait and see what he did about it. I just needed to walk away at the moment, before I said anything hurtful. "I'm going to get dressed and go downstairs to visit my best friend. And then I'll come back upstairs to my home, where I live with my husband. But this… you need to do something about this, Christian. I don't want these things hanging anywhere in our home. You need to get rid of them. You can replace them with our wedding photos."

"Really? So… you forgive me?" he asked hopefully.

I sighed. "I haven't forgiven you yet, no. I'm pissed that you did this. Really and truly pissed. It might be a good idea for one of us to sleep in a guest room tonight."

Christian looked panicked again. I knew it was because he didn't sleep well when I wasn't in bed with him. But he should have thought about my feelings about these damn photographs. It was creepy as hell that he'd bought them and kept them hidden in a closet in his home office for several months. I wasn't really sure what to make of that.

Without another word to Christian, I went to our bedroom and got dressed. He wisely didn't follow me. I didn't see him again as I went and found Pam so she could accompany me downstairs to Kate's apartment. I'd already been texting Kate, so I knew she was home.