A sharp rap on the office door pulled Christian's focus away from the glowing screen of his computer. "Come in," he called, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of anticipation.

Taylor stepped inside, iPad in hand, his brow slightly furrowed. "Sir, we've got more information on Miss Steele," he said.

Christian raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Go on."

"She's currently staying at the Conrad downtown. We tracked her movements, and precisely two hours after she checked in, she came down and encountered a man she referred to as Professor Hyde."

Christian sat up straight, the mention of Professor Hyde piquing his interest. "What do we know about this Hyde?"

"Jack Hyde," Taylor replied, his tone clipped, "was an English literature professor at NYU, but he was terminated nineteen months ago. The reason for his dismissal was never disclosed, but his academic pedigree is solid. After that, he struggled for months to find work before landing a position with a small independent textbook publisher. It's puzzling for someone of his caliber to face such difficulties. Financially, things seem dire for him; reportedly, he's on the brink of running out of money, just a month or two left at most. He isn't staying at the hotel. Our surveillance team reported that he arrived and appeared to be scanning the area for someone."

"Her?" Christian interjected, his mind racing.

"No," Taylor replied, shaking his head. "He looked genuinely surprised to see her." There was a brief moment of hesitation in Taylor's posture as if he were bracing for the inevitable fallout.

"Spit it out, Taylor." Christian's voice dropped, a low growl that made it clear he meant business.

"It's just… she seemed far from surprised," Taylor continued reluctantly. "In fact, our operative noted that she looked entirely too pleased to see him."

The revelation struck Christian like a punch, a fire of possessiveness igniting within him. The very notion of her being drawn to another man twisted something profound in his chest. He clenched his jaw, a wave of anger crashing over him. He knew too well that when his temper flared, his reactions could be volatile, and Taylor was likely feeling the tension in the air.

"Carry on," he instructed tersely, ordering the flood of emotions back into submission.

"Hyde returned to the Conrad at precisely twenty-one hundred hours, and just seconds later, Miss Steele exited the elevator. They shared a taxi and were dropped off at an unremarkable building on the Upper West Side. No signage, nothing to indicate what it was... except, fortunately, one of our men had the insight to know it was an exclusive BDSM club catering to the wealthy."

Christian's heart raced, the implication sending his mind into a frenzy. Taylor was silent as he let the gravity of his words settle in the room. "As of the last report, she's still there with Hyde."

With a flick of his hand, Christian dismissed Taylor, the urgency boiling just beneath the surface. As soon as the door closed behind Taylor, a thrown object echoed through the office—a wall display shattered, glass raining down as Christian's frustration vented. His temper simmered, yet a glimmer of clarity began to emerge, quelling his rage.

He realized he had just found a route to Miss Steele. It was clear Elliot had no idea his dear friend was into BDSM. All of a sudden, it all looked so easy. If she was visiting a club in New York, it meant she visited or was a member of a club in Seattle; he now had to find the club. A feat not beyond someone like Elena, who kept her pulse on the beat of the BDSM scene in Seattle. He tapped his phone, calling Elena, and she picked up after one ring. "You're not going to believe this," he said, his voice tinged with exhilaration. "She's in the lifestyle."

"Seriously?" Elena's voice was filled with delight. "If that's true, she must be a Dominant. I can't say it surprises me; she had that essence about her. Was it in her background check?"

"No," Christian found he wasn't willing to reveal how he came by that information, at least not the truth of it. "We were doing a background check on some holdings on a company I'm looking to acquire when it came up. One of their holdings is an exclusive BDSM club in New York; she is a member." He lied. "I wouldn't have known that if we hadn't seen her account information, it matched one of the client lists. Taylor made the correlation." Christian felt the subtle pride in his voice as he absorbed this new knowledge, his delight evident. "It's curious how it all lined up, isn't it?" he remarked.

"Absolutely," Elena encouraged. If that isn't the universe telling you to go for it, I don't know what is." Elena said with a laugh. If anyone can have a Domme subbing for them, it's you, darling." She cackled. Christian wished she'd stop doing that. She sounded like a demented witch when she laughed like that.

"Sure," Christian replied, his voice a bit flat. His thoughts swirled back to Ana with Hyde. She must be involved with something in Seattle as well, so I need you to dig into that."

"Leave it to me. It shouldn't be too hard to find out if she is in the lifestyle. Shoot me a pic; it'll help narrow things down. What's her name again?"

"Anastasia Rose Steele," he replied, the weight of her name hanging in the air.

A beat of silence lingered before Elena spoke again, "I take it you won't need the sub I found for you then?"

"No, bring the file over on Saturday. She is not a long term plan. I'm simply proving a point. I intend to have a sub as usual." All the better if he was screwing a proper sub on the side."

"Of course you do." There was the cackling again. He cringed at the sound.

"Sounds like you have a plan," she said, the note of amusement evident in her tone.

"Let me know what you find," Christian said curtly before hanging up, a pang of exhilaration lacing through him.

He felt a distinct rush as he scanned through Ana's background information. He'd gotten her name from the maître d at the Mile High. Apparently, Miss Steele was a regular. Her ties to a prominent family, The Wilks Corporation, only deepened the intrigue. Her mother, a significant figure in business circles, had been present at numerous charity events, a face Christian recognized but didn't know well. He couldn't remember the father if his life depended on it. Ray Steele, ex-army, with an average career at best, left a year after he married Carla.

She was twenty-nine, a year younger than him. She studied art at NYU and earned a dual MS/MA degree at the Conservation Center of the Institute of Fine Arts. She then interned at The Met and worked there for another year before moving back home. She now had her own studio, which she opened thirteen months ago.

God, what he would give to call Elliot and rub his newfound knowledge in his face. His dear friend, too good for the likes of him, was just like him. He wondered if Elliot would still be friends with her if he knew; he doubted it. His history with Elena had soured their views on BDSM; he doubted anyone or anything would change their views. No, Elliot will end his friendship, seeing her as no different from the likes of him and Elena. He would tell him after he had had his fill of her and tossed her aside, and then he would gleefully reveal his knowledge. "Your friend is no different to me. She likes to tie up and beat up men before she fucks them." The thoughts turned unrelenting, tying him back to the visceral reaction of imagining her with Hyde. The idea stoked something primal within him, and for a moment, he imagined himself bridging the rift, pulling her away from the man's grasp.

The thrill of what lay ahead surged through him, blurring the lines between desire, control, and the intuition to claim what he now deemed his.