fifty shades darker (50 page)

“Where is that fucker?”

From inside the building we hear muffled shouting. Christian sets me on my feet.

“Can you stand?”

I nod.

“Don’t go in. Don’t, Christian.” Suddenly my fear is back, fear of what Christian will do to Jack.

“Get in the car,” he barks at me.

“Christian, no.” I grab his arm.

“Get in the goddamned car, Ana.” He shakes me off.

“No! Please!” I plead with him. “Stay. Don’t leave me on my own.” I deploy my ultimate weapon.

Seething, Christian runs his hand through his hair and glares down at me, clearly wracked with indecision. The shouting inside the building escalates, and then stops suddenly.

Oh, no. What has Taylor done?

Christian fishes out his Blackberry.

“Christian, he has my e-mails.”

“What?”

“My e-mails to you. He wanted to know where your e-mails to me were. He was trying to blackmail me.”

Christian’s look is murderous.
Oh shit.
“Fuck!” he splutters and narrows his eyes at me. He punches a number into his Blackberry.

Oh no. I’m in trouble. Who’s he calling?

“Barney. Grey. I need you to access the SIP main server and wipe all Anastasia Steele’s e-mails to me. Then access the personal data files of Jack Hyde and check they aren’t stored there. If they are, wipe them . . . Yes, all of them. Now. Let me know when it’s done.”

He stabs the off button then dials another number.

“Roach. Grey. Hyde—I want him out. Now. This minute. Call security. Get him to clear his desk immediately, or I will liquidate this company first thing in the morning. You already have all the justification you need to give him his pink slip. Do you understand?”

He listens for a moment and hangs up seemingly satisfied.

“Blackberry,” he hisses at me through clenched teeth.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” I blink up at him.

“I am so mad at you right now,” he snarls and once more sweeps his hand through his hair. “Get in the car.”

“Christian, please—”

“Get in the fucking car, Anastasia, or so help me I’ll put you in there myself,” he threatens, his eyes blazing with fury.

Oh shit.
“Don’t do anything stupid, please,” I beg.

“
STUPID!
” he explodes. “I told you to use your fucking Blackberry. Don’t talk to me about stupid. Get in the motherfucking car, Anastasia—
NOW!
” he snarls and a frisson of fear runs through me. This is Very Angry Christian. I’ve not seen him this mad before. He’s barely holding on to his self-control.

“Okay,” I mutter, placating him. “But please, be careful.”

Pressing his lips together in a hard line, he points angrily to the car, glaring at me.

Jeez, okay, I get the message.

“Please be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you. It would kill me,” I murmur.

He blinks rapidly and stills, lowering his arm while he takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be careful,” he says, his eyes softening. Oh, thank the Lord. His eyes burn into me as I head to the car, open the front passenger door, and climb in. Once I’m safely in the comfort of the Audi, he disappears into the building, and my heart leaps again into my throat. What’s he planning to do?

I sit and wait. And wait. And wait. Five eternal minutes. Jack’s cab pulls up in front of the Audi. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Jeez, what are they doing in there, and how is Taylor? The wait is agonizing.

Twenty-five minutes later, Jack emerges from the building, clutching a cardboard stor-age box. Behind him is the security guard. Where was he earlier? And after them, Christian and Taylor. Jack looks sick. He heads straight for the cab, and I’m grateful for the Audi’s heavily tinted windows so he cannot see me. The cab drives off—presumably not to Sea-Tac—as Christian and Taylor reach the car.

Opening the driver’s door, Christian slides smoothly into the seat, presumably because I am in the front, and Taylor gets in behind me. Neither of them says a word as Christian starts the car and pulls out into the traffic. I risk a quick glance at Fifty. His mouth is set in a firm line, but he seems distracted. The in-car phone rings.

“Grey,” Christian snaps.

“Mr. Grey, Barney here.”

“Barney, I’m on speaker phone, and there are others in the car,” Christian warns.

“Sir, it’s all done. But I need to talk to you about what else I found on Mr. Hyde’s computer.”

“I’ll call you when I reach my destination. And thanks, Barney.”

“No problem, Mr. Grey.”

Barney hangs up. He sounds much younger than I expected.

What else is on Jack’s computer?

“Are you talking to me?” I ask quietly.

Christian glances at me, before fixing his eyes back on the road ahead, and I can tell he’s still mad.

“No,” he mutters sullenly.

Oh, there we go . . . how childish. I wrap my arms around myself and stare unseeing out the window. Perhaps I should just ask him to drop me off at my apartment, then he can

“not talk” to me from the safety of Escala and save us both the inevitable quarrel. But even as I think it, I know I don’t want to leave him to brood, not after yesterday.

Eventually, we pull up in front of his apartment building, and Christian climbs out of the car. Moving with easy grace around to my side, he opens my door.

“Come,” he orders as Taylor clambers into the driver’s seat. I take his proffered hand and follow him through the grand foyer to the elevator. He doesn’t let go of me.

“Christian, why are you so mad at me?” I whisper as we wait.

“You know why,” he mutters as we step into the elevator, and he punches in the code to his floor. “God, if something had happened to you, he’d be dead by now.” Christian’s tone chills me to the bone. The doors close.

“As it is, I’m going to ruin his career so he can’t take advantage of young women anymore, miserable excuse for a man that he is.” He shakes his head. “Jesus, Ana!” He grabs me suddenly, imprisoning me in the corner of the elevator.

His hands fist in my hair as he pulls my face up to his, and his mouth is on mine, a passionate desperation in his kiss. I don’t know why this takes me by surprise, but it does.

I taste his relief, his longing, and his residual anger while his tongue possesses my mouth.

He stops, gazing down at me, resting his weight against me so I can’t move. He leaves me breathless, clinging to him for support, staring up into that beautiful face etched with determination and without any trace of humor.

“If anything had happened to you . . . If he’d harmed you . . .” I feel the shudder that runs through him. “Blackberry,” he commands quietly. “From now on. Understand?”

I nod, swallowing, unable to break eye contact from his grim, mesmerizing look.

He straightens, releasing me as the elevator comes to a stop. “He said you kicked him in the balls.” Christian’s tone is lighter with a trace of admiration, and I think I’m forgiven.

“Yes,” I whisper, still reeling from the intensity of his kiss and his impassioned command.

“Good.”

“Ray is ex-army. He taught me well.”

“I’m very glad he did,” he breathes and adds, arching a brow, “I’ll need to remember that.” Taking my hand, he leads me out of the elevator and I follow, relieved. I think that’s as bad as his mood is going to get.

“I need to call Barney. I won’t be long.” He disappears into his study, leaving me stranded in the vast living room. Mrs. Jones is adding the finishing touches to our meal. I realize I am famished, but I need something to do.

“Can I help?” I ask.

She laughs. “No, Ana. Can I fix you a drink or something? You look beat.”

“I’d love a glass of wine.”

“White?”

“Yes, please.”

I perch on one of the bar stools, and she hands me a glass of chilled wine. I don’t know what it is, but it’s delicious and slides down easily, soothing my shattered nerves. What was I thinking about earlier today? How alive I have felt since I met Christian. How exciting my life has become. Jeez, could I just have a few boring days?

What if I’d never met Christian? I’d be holed up in my apartment, talking it through with Ethan, completely freaked by my encounter with Jack, knowing I would have to face the sleazeball again on Friday. As it is, there’s every chance I’ll never set eyes on him again.

But who will I work for now? I frown. I hadn’t thought of that. Shit, do I even have a job?

“Evening, Gail,” Christian says as he comes back into the great room, dragging me from my thoughts. Heading straight to the fridge, he pours himself a glass of wine.

“Good evening, Mr. Grey. Dinner in ten, sir?”

“Sounds good.”

Christian raises his glass.

“To ex-military men who train their daughters well,” he says and his eyes soften.

“Cheers,” I mutter, raising my glass.

“What’s wrong?” Christian asks.

“I don’t know if I still have a job.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Do you still want one?”

“Of course.”

“Then you still have one.”

Simple. See? He is master of my universe. I roll my eyes at him and he smiles.

Mrs. Jones makes a mean chicken potpie. She has left us to enjoy the fruits of her labors, and I feel much better now I’ve had something to eat. We are sitting at the breakfast bar, and despite my best cajoling, Christian won’t tell me what Barney has found on Jack’s computer. I drop the subject, and decide to tackle instead the thorny issue of José’s impend-ing visit.

“José called,” I say nonchalantly.

“Oh?” Christian turns to face me.

“He wants to deliver your photos on Friday.”

“A personal delivery. How accommodating of him,” Christian mutters.

“He wants to go out. For a drink. With me.”

“I see.”

“And Kate and Elliot should be back,” I add quickly.

Christian puts his fork down, frowning at me.

“What exactly are you asking?”

I bristle. “I’m not asking anything. I’m informing you of my plans for Friday. Look, I want to see José, and he wants to stay over. Either he stays here or he can stay at my place, but if he does I should be there, too.”

Christian’s eyes widen. He looks dumbfounded.

“He made a pass at you.”

“Christian, that was weeks ago. He was drunk, I was drunk, you saved the day—it won’t happen again. He’s no Jack, for heaven’s sake.”

“Ethan’s there. He can keep him company.”

“He wants to see me, not Ethan.”

Christian scowls at me.

“He’s just a friend.” My voice is emphatic.

“I don’t like it.”

So what?
Jeez, he’s irritating sometimes. I take a deep breath. “He’s my friend, Christian. I haven’t seen him since his show. And that was too brief. I know you don’t have any friends, apart from that god-awful woman, but I don’t moan about you seeing her,” I snap.

Christian blinks, shocked. “I want to see him. I’ve been a poor friend to him.” My subconscious is alarmed.
Are you stamping your little foot? Steady now!

Gray eyes blaze at me. “Is that what you think?” he breathes.

“Think about what?”

“Elena. You’d rather I didn’t see her?”

Holy cow.
“Exactly. I’d rather you didn’t see her.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“Because it’s not my place to say. You think she’s your only friend.” I shrug in exasperation. He really doesn’t get it. How did this turn into a conversation about her? I don’t even want to think about her. I try to steer us back to José. “Just as it’s not your place to say if I can or can’t see José. Don’t you see that?”

Christian gazes at me, perplexed, I think.
Oh, what is he thinking?

“He can stay here, I suppose,” he mutters. “I can keep an eye on him.” He sounds petulant.

Hallelujah!

“Thank you! You know, if I am going to live here, too . . .” I trail off. Christian nods.

He knows what I’m trying to say. “It’s not like you haven’t got the space.” I smirk.

His lips quirk up slowly. “Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?”

“Most definitely, Mr. Grey.” I get up just in case his palms start twitching, clear our plates, and then load them into the dishwasher.

“Gail will do that.”

“I’ve done it now.” I stand up and gaze at him. He’s watching me intently.

“I have to work for a while,” he says apologetically.

“Cool. I’ll find something to do.”

“Come here,” he orders, but his voice is soft and seductive, his eyes heated. I don’t hesitate to walk into his arms, clasping him around his neck as he perches on his bar stool.

He wraps his arms around me, crushes me to him, and just holds me.

“Are you okay?” he whispers into my hair.

“Okay?”

“After what happened with that fucker? After what happened yesterday?” he adds, his voice quiet and earnest.

I gaze into dark, serious, gray eyes.
Am I okay?
“Yes,” I whisper.

His arms tighten around me, and I feel safe, cherished, and loved all at once. It’s blissful. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the feel of being in his arms. I love this man. I love his intoxicating scent, his strength, his mercurial ways—my Fifty.

“Let’s not fight,” he murmurs. He kisses my hair and inhales deeply. “You smell heavenly as usual, Ana.”

“So do you,” I whisper and kiss his neck.

All too soon he releases me. “I should only be a couple of hours.”

I wander listlessly through the apartment. Christian is still working. I have showered and dressed in some sweats and a T-shirt of my own, and I’m bored. I don’t want to read. If I sit still, I’ll recall Jack and his fingers on me.

I check out my old bedroom, the subs’ room. José can sleep here—he’ll like the view.

It’s about eight fifteen, and the sun is beginning to sink into the west. The lights of the city twinkle below me. It’s glorious. Yes, José will like it here. I wonder idly where Christian will hang José’s pictures of me. I’d rather he didn’t. I am not keen on looking at myself.

Back down the hallway I find myself outside the playroom, and without thinking, I try the door handle. Christian normally keeps it locked, but to my surprise, the door opens.