Darker

by E. L. James

  "Oh, I haven't paid for my bid," she says.

  "You can send a check. I have the address."

  "You were really mad."

  "Yes, I was."

  "I blame you and your toys."

  "You were quite overcome, Miss Steele. A most satisfactory outcome, if I recall. Incidentally, where are they?"

  "The silver balls? In my bag."

  "I'd like them back. They are far too potent a device to be left in your innocent hands."

  "Worried I might be quite overcome again, maybe with somebody else?" she says, with a wicked gleam in her eye.

  Ana, don't tease me about these things.

  "I hope that's not going to happen. But no, Ana, I want all your pleasure."

  Always.

  "Don't you trust me?" she asks.

  "Implicitly. Now, can I have them back?"

  "I'll think about it."

  Miss Steele is playing hardball.

  In the distance, the DJ has started his set.

  "Do you want to dance?" I ask.

  "I'm really tired, Christian. I'd like to go, if that's okay."

  I motion to Taylor. He nods and talks into his sleeve microphone to the other security personnel, and we make our way across the lawn. Mia gallops toward us with her shoes in hand. "You're not going, are you? The real music's just beginning. Come on, Ana." She grabs Ana's free hand.

  "Mia, Anastasia's tired. We're going home. Besides, we have a big day tomorrow."

  Ana looks at me in surprise.

  Mia pouts because she's not getting her way, but she doesn't push it. "You must come by sometime next week. Maybe we can hit the mall?"

  "Sure, Mia," Ana replies, and I hear the fatigue in her voice. I must get her home. Mia kisses Ana good-bye, then grabs me and hugs me, hard. Her face shines as she stares up at me.

  "I like seeing you this happy," she says, and she kisses me on the cheek. "Bye. You guys have fun." She runs off to her waiting friends, who start making their way to the dance floor.

  My parents are nearby, and I'm now feeling guilty about the outburst with my mother. "We'll say good night to my parents before we leave. Come." We stroll toward them. Grace's face lights up when she sees us. Reaching up, she touches my face, and I try not to scowl at her. She smiles. "Thank you for coming and bringing Anastasia. It was wonderful watching the two of you together."

  "Thanks for a great evening, Mom," I manage. I don't want to bring up our earlier conversation in front of Ana.

  "Good night, son. Ana," says Carrick.

  "Please do come again, Anastasia, it's been lovely having you here," Grace enthuses. She seems sincere, and the sting of her gold-digger comment begins to fade. Perhaps she is just looking out for me. But they don't know Ana at all. She's the least acquisitive woman I've ever met.

  We walk around to the front of the house. Ana runs her hands up and down her arms. "Are you warm enough?" I ask.

  "Yes, thank you."

  "I really enjoyed this evening, Anastasia. Thank you."

  "Me, too...Some parts more than others." And clearly she's thinking about our tryst in my childhood bedroom.

  "Don't bite your lip," I warn.

  "What did you mean about a big day tomorrow?" she asks. I tell her that Dr. Greene will make a house call and that I have a surprise for her.

  "Dr. Greene?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Because I hate condoms."

  "It's my body," she grumbles.

  "It's mine, too," I whisper.

  Ana. Please. I. Hate. Them.

  Her eyes shine in the soft glow of paper lanterns that are strung up over the front yard, and I wonder if she's going to continue this argument. She raises her hand, and I still. She tugs the corner of my bow tie, and it unravels. With gentle fingers, she undoes the top button of my shirt. Fascinated, I watch her, and stay rooted to the ground.

  "You look hot like this," she says quietly, surprising me.

  I think she's moved on from Dr. Greene. "I need to get you home. Come."

  The Q7 pulls up, and the valet gets out and gives the keys to Taylor. One of our security guys, Sawyer, hands me an envelope. It's addressed to Ana.

  "Where did this come from?" I ask him.

  "One of the servers gave it to me, sir."

  Is it from an admirer? The handwriting seems familiar. Taylor ushers Ana into the car and I slide in beside her, handing her the note. "It's addressed to you. One of the staff gave it to Sawyer. No doubt from yet another ensnared heart."

  Taylor follows the line of cars out of my parents' driveway. Ana rips the envelope open and casts her eyes over the note inside.

  "You told her?" she exclaims.

  "Told who what?"

  "That I call her Mrs. Robinson."

  "It's from Elena? This is ridiculous." I told Elena to leave Ana alone. Why is she ignoring me? And what has she said to Ana? What the hell is her problem? "I'll deal with her tomorrow. Or Monday." I want to read the note, but Ana doesn't give me the opportunity. She stuffs it in her purse but fishes out the kegel balls.

  "Until next time," she says, handing them back to me.

  Next time?

  Now, that is good news. I squeeze her hand and she returns the gesture as she stares out of the window into the darkness.

  Midway across the 520 bridge, she's asleep. I take a moment to relax. So much has happened today. I'm tired, so I put my head back and close my eyes.

  Yeah. It's been quite a day.

  Ana and the check. Her bad temper. Her willfulness. The lipstick. The sex.

  Yes. The sex.

  And of course I will have to deal with my mother's anxiety and her offensive concern that Ana is an opportunist who's after my fortune.

  And then there's Elena, interfering, behaving badly. What the hell am I going to do about her?

  I look at my image reflected in the car window. The sallow, ghoulish figure stares back at me and disappears only when we exit I-5 onto a well-lit Stewart Street. We are close to home.

  Ana is still asleep when we pull up outside. Sawyer jumps out of the car and opens my door.

  "Do I need to carry you in?" I ask Ana, squeezing her hand. She wakes and sleepily shakes her head. With Sawyer in front of us, keeping vigil, we walk into the building together as Taylor takes the car into the garage.

  Ana leans on me in the elevator and closes her eyes.

  "It's been a long day, eh, Anastasia?"

  She nods.

  "Tired?"

  She nods.

  "You're not very talkative," I observe.

  She nods once more, making me smile.

  "Come. I'll put you to bed." My fingers curl around hers, and we follow Sawyer out of the elevator and into the foyer. Sawyer halts in front of us and holds up his hand. I tighten my grip on Ana's fingers.

  What the hell?

  "Will do, T," Sawyer says, and turns to face us. "Mr. Grey, the tires on Ms. Steele's Audi have been slashed and paint thrown all over it."

  Ana gasps.

  What?

  My immediate thought is that some mindless vandal has broken into the garage...then I remember Leila.

  What the hell has she done?

  Sawyer continues. "Taylor is concerned that the perp may have entered the apartment and may still be there. He wants to make sure."

  How can anyone be in the apartment?

  "I see. What's Taylor's plan?"

  "He's coming up in the service elevator with Ryan and Reynolds. They'll do a sweep, then give us the all-clear. I'm to wait with you, sir."

  "Thank you, Sawyer." I tighten my hold on Ana. "This day just gets better and better." There's no way Leila could be in the apartment. Is there?

  And I recall those moments when I thought I saw something move at the periphery of my vision...and when I woke because I thought someone had ruffled my hair, only to find Ana fast asleep beside me. A shiver of doubt runs down my spine.

  Shit.

  If Leila's here, I need to
know. I don't think she'll hurt me. I kiss Ana's hair. "Listen, I can't stand here and wait. Sawyer, take care of Miss Steele. Don't let her in until you have the all-clear. I'm sure Taylor is overreacting. She can't get into the apartment."

  "No, Christian." Ana tries to stop me, her fingers clasping my lapels. "You have to stay with me."

  "Do as you're told, Anastasia. Wait here." I sound sterner than I mean to, and she releases me. "Sawyer?" He's standing in my way, uncertain. I raise a brow, and after a moment's hesitation he opens the double doors into the apartment and lets me go through. He closes them behind me.

  In the hallway outside the living room it's dark and quiet. I stand and listen, straining my ears for anything unusual. All I hear is the sigh of the wind as it wraps itself around the building, and the hum of the electrical appliances from the kitchen. Far below in the street there's a police siren, but apart from that, Escala is still and quiet, as it should be.

  If Leila were here, where would she go?

  My first thought is the playroom, and I'm about to dash upstairs when there's a rumble and a ping from the service elevator, and Taylor and the two other security guys spill out into the corridor wielding guns, as if they're in some macho action movie.

  "Are those strictly necessary?" I ask Taylor, who's leading the charge.

  "We're taking the necessary precautions, sir."

  "I don't think she's here."

  "We'll do a quick sweep."

  "Okay," I reply, resigned. "I'll check upstairs."

  "I'll come with you, Mr. Grey." I suspect that Taylor is being unduly concerned for my safety.

  He issues swift instructions to the other two and they scatter to search the apartment. I switch on all the lights so that the living room and corridor are well lit and bright, and I head upstairs with Taylor.

  He's thorough. He checks under the four-poster bed, the table, and even the couch in the playroom. He does the same in the sub's room and in each of the spare rooms. No sign of any intruder. He proceeds into his and Mrs. Jones's quarters, and I head downstairs. My bathroom and walk-in closet are clear, as is my bedroom. Standing in the middle of the room, I feel like a fool, but I squat down and check under the bed.

  Nothing.

  Not even dust. Mrs. Jones is doing a stellar job.

  The balcony door is locked, but I open it. Outside, the breeze is cool and the city is laid out, dark and somber, at my feet. There's the hum of distant traffic and the faint moan of the wind, but that's it. Inside again, I lock the door.

  Taylor comes back downstairs. "She's not here," he says.

  "You think it's Leila?"

  "Yes, sir." His mouth forms a hard, flat line. "Do you mind if I search your room?"

  Though I've already done this, I'm too tired to argue. "Sure."

  "I want to check all the closets and cupboards, sir," he says.

  "Fine." I shake my head at the preposterous situation we're in, and I open the foyer doors to find Ana. Sawyer brandishes his gun but lowers it when he sees it's me.

  "All clear," I tell him. He holsters his pistol and stands aside. "Taylor is overreacting," I say to Ana. She looks exhausted, and she doesn't move--she just stares at me pale-faced, and I realize she's scared. "It's all right, baby." I fold her in my arms and kiss her hair. "Come on, you're tired. Bed."

  "I was so worried," she says.

  "I know. We're all jumpy."

  Sawyer has disappeared, presumably into the apartment.

  "Honestly, your exes are proving to be very challenging, Mr. Grey," she asserts.

  "Yes. They are." They really are. I lead her into the living room. "Taylor and his crew are checking all the closets and cupboards. I don't think she's here."

  "Why would she be here?" Ana sounds bewildered, and I reassure her that Taylor is thorough and that we've searched everywhere, including the playroom. To calm her, I offer her a drink, but she declines. She's tired. "Come. Let me put you to bed. You look exhausted."

  In my bedroom, she empties the contents of her evening bag on top of the chest of drawers. "Here." She passes Elena's note to me. "I don't know if you want to read this. I want to ignore it."

  I scan the note.

  Anastasia,

  I may have misjudged you. And you have definitely misjudged me. Call me if you need to fill in any of the blanks--we could have lunch. Christian doesn't want me talking to you, but I would be more than happy to help. Don't get me wrong, I approve, believe me--but so help me, if you hurt him...He's been hurt enough. Call me: (206) 279-6261.

  Mrs. Robinson

  It provokes my temper.

  Is this one of Elena's games?

  "I'm not sure what blanks she can fill in." I put the note in my pants pocket. "I need to talk to Taylor. Let me unzip your dress."

  "Are you going to call the police about the car?" she asks, as she turns around. I move her hair out of the way and pull down the zipper.

  "No. I don't want the police involved. Leila needs help, not police intervention, and I don't want them here. We just have to double our efforts to find her." I kiss her shoulder. "Go to bed."

  IN THE KITCHEN, I pour myself a glass of water.

  What the hell is going on? My world seems to be imploding. Just when I'm beginning to get back on track with Ana, my past is coming back to haunt me: Leila and Elena. I wonder for a moment if they might be colluding with each other, but then I realize that I'm being paranoid. What an absurd notion. Elena is not that crazy.

  I rub my face.

  Why would Leila be targeting me?

  Is it jealousy?

  She wanted more. I didn't.

  But I would have been happy to continue our relationship as it was...She was the one who ended it.

  "Master. May I speak freely?" Leila says. She's sitting at my right at the dinner table, wearing a fetching lacy La Perla one-piece.

  "Of course."

  "I have developed feelings for you. I had hoped you would collar me and that I would stay by your side forevermore."

  Collar? Forevermore? I think to myself. What's this once-upon-a-time bullshit?

  "But I think that is beyond my dreams," she continues.

  "Leila. You know that's not for me. We've discussed this."

  "But you're lonely. I can see it."

  "Lonely? Me? I don't feel that way. I have my work. My family. I have you."

  "But I want more, Master."

  "I can't give you more. You know this."

  "I see." She raises her face to look at me, her amber eyes scrutinizing me. She's broken the fourth wall--she has never looked at me without permission. But I don't scold her.

  "I can't. It's not within me." I've always been honest with her. This is nothing that she doesn't know.

  "It is within you, Sir. But maybe I'm not the person to make you realize it." She sounds sad. She looks back down at her clean plate. "I'd like to terminate our relationship."

  She's caught me by surprise. "Are you sure? Leila, this is a big step. I'd like to continue our arrangement."

  "I can't do this anymore, Master." Her voice cracks on the last word, and I don't know what to say. "I can't," she whispers, clearing her throat.

  "Leila--" I stop, bewildered by the emotion I hear in her voice. She's been an impeccable sub. I thought we were compatible. "I'll be sorry to see you go," I say, because it's true. "I've really enjoyed our time together. I hope you have, too."

  "I'll be sorry, too, Sir. I've more than enjoyed everything. I had hoped..." Her voice trails off and she gives me a sad smile.

  "I wish I felt differently." But I don't. I have no need of a permanent relationship.

  "You've never given me any indication that you would." Her voice is quiet.

  "I'm sorry. You're right. Let's end this as you wish. It's for the best, especially if you've developed feelings for me."

  TAYLOR AND THE SECURITY team arrive back in the kitchen. "There's no sign of Leila in the apartment, sir," Taylor says.

  "I didn't think
there would be, but I appreciate you checking. Thanks."

  "We're going to monitor the cameras in turn. Ryan first. Sawyer and Reynolds are going to sleep."

  "Good. As you should."

  "Yes, Mr. Grey. Gentlemen." Taylor dismisses the three men.

  "Good night."

  Once they've left, Taylor turns to me. "The car's a mess, sir."

  "Write-off?"

  "I think so. She's done a real number on it."

  "That's if it's Leila."

  "I'll speak to the building security in the morning and check their CCTV. Do you want to involve the police?"

  "Not yet."

  "Okay." Taylor nods.

  "I'll need to get Ana another car. Can you talk to Audi tomorrow?"

  "Yes, sir. I'll have the wreck collected in the morning."

  "Thanks."

  "Is there anything else, Mr. Grey?"

  "No. Thanks. Get some rest."

  "Good night, sir."

  "Good night."

  Taylor leaves and I head into my study. I'm wired. I can't possibly sleep. I contemplate calling Welch just to keep him up-to-date, but it is too late. Slipping off my jacket, I hang it on my chair, then sit down at my computer and write him an e-mail.

  As I press send my phone buzzes. Elena Lincoln's name flashes up on the screen.

  What now?

  I answer. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "Christian!" She's surprised.

  "I don't know why you're calling at this hour. I have nothing to say to you."

  She sighs. "I just wanted to tell you--" She stops and changes tack. "I was hoping to leave a message."

  "Well, you can tell me now. You don't have to leave a message." I'm finding it impossible to keep my composure.

  "You're angry. I can tell. If it's about the note, listen--"

  "No, you listen. I asked you, and now I am telling you. Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with you. Do you understand?"

  "Christian, I only have your best interests at heart."

  "I know you do. But I mean it, Elena. Leave her the fuck alone. Do I need to put it in triplicate for you? Are you hearing me?"

  "Yes. Yes. I'm sorry." I've never heard her so contrite. It goes some way to cooling my anger.

  "Good. Good night." I slam my phone down on the desk. Interfering woman. I put my head in my hands.

  I'm so fucking tired.

  There's a knock on my door.

  "What?" I shout. I look up. It's Ana. She's dressed in my T-shirt, and she's all legs and big fearful eyes. She's bearding the lion in his den.

  Oh, Ana.

  "You should be in satin or silk, Anastasia. But even in my T-shirt you look beautiful."

  "I missed you. Come to bed." Her voice is sexy and cajoling.