by James, E L
“Hey, hotshot. Having second thoughts?”
“Fuck off, Elliot.”
“She’s having second thoughts?” He snickers.
“Could you silence your inner asshole for two minutes?”
“That long? Dubious.”
“I’m buying a house.”
“Whoa. For you and the future Mrs. Grey? That was quick. You knocked her up?”
“No!” For fuck’s sake.
He cackles on his end of the phone. “Don’t tell me. It’s in Denny-Blaine or Laurelhurst?”
Ah, the tech millionaires’ suburbs of choice.
“No.”
“Medina?”
I laugh. “That’s far too near Mom and Dad. It’s on the water just north of Broadview.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I want to watch the sun sink into the Sound, not rise above a lake.”
Elliot laughs. “Man. Who knew you were such a romantic?”
I scoff. I certainly didn’t. “It needs gutting.”
“It does?” That has Elliot’s interest. “You want me to recommend someone?”
“No, dude. I want you to do it. I want something sustainable and environmentally friendly. You know, all the shit you champion at family meals.”
“Oh. Wow.” He sounds surprised. “Can I see the place?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve not gone to contract yet, but we’re going ahead with surveys over the next week or so.”
“Sure. This is rad. But you’ll need an architect. I can only do so much.”
“What was the name of the woman who oversaw the renovations in Aspen?”
“Um…Gia Matteo. She’s cool. She’s now at some fancy downtown firm.”
“She did a great job at the house in Aspen. And I seem to remember she had an impressive and imaginative portfolio. Do you recommend her?”
“Yeah. Um… Sure.”
“You sound hesitant.”
“Well, you know. She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s…ambitious. Hungry. Driven to get what she wants.”
“I’ve got no problem with that.”
“Neither have I,” says Elliot. “In fact, I rather like a predatory female.”
“You do?” Well, Kavanagh fits that bill.
“She and I…” Elliot trails off.
I can’t help my eye roll. My brother suffers from sexual incontinence. “Will that be awkward?”
“No. Of course not. She knows her shit.”
“I’ll call her. And take a look at her updated portfolio.” I scribble down her name.
“Cool. Let me know when we can scout the place.”
“Will do. Laters.”
“Dude.”
I hang up, wondering how many women he’s fucked. I shake my head. Does he know that Katherine Kavanagh has designs on him? Could he not see that over the weekend? I hope he doesn’t end up with her. She is possibly the most annoying woman I know.
Sam has e-mailed the statement for the press conference, which is in half an hour. I review it and make some changes; as usual, his prose is overwrought and pretentious. Sometimes I don’t know why I hired him.
Twenty minutes later he’s knocking on my door.
“Christian. Are you ready?”
“So, Mr. Grey, are you suggesting that this could be sabotage?” the journalist from The Seattle Times asks.
“I’m not saying that at all. We are keeping an open mind and waiting for the accident report.”
“Congratulations on your engagement, Mr. Grey. How did you meet Anastasia Steele?” I think this woman is from Seattle Metropolitan.
“I’m not answering any specific questions about my private life. I’ll just reiterate, I’m thrilled she’s consented to be my wife.”
“That’s the last question, thank you, ladies and gentlemen.” Sam comes to my rescue and ushers me out of the GEH conference room.
Thank God that’s over.
“You did well,” Sam says, as if I need his approval. “I’m sure the press are going to want a picture of you and Anastasia together. I don’t think they’ll stop hounding you until they have one.”
“I’ll think about it. Right now I just want to go back to my office.”
Sam smirks. “Of course, Christian. I’ll send you a compilation of the conference press coverage when we get it.”
“Thanks.” Why is he smirking?
I step into the elevator and I’m delighted to find that I have it to myself. I check my phone. There are missed calls from Elena.
For heaven’s sake, Mrs. Lincoln. We’re done.
There’s also an e-mail from Ana.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: The News!
Date: June 20 2011 16:55
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey
You give good press conference.
Why does that not surprise me?
You looked hot.
Loved your tie.
Ax
PS: Sabotage?
My hand strays to my tie. That Brioni tie. My favorite.
I looked hot. These words give me more pleasure than they should. I like to look hot for Ana, and her e-mail gives me an idea.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: I’ll Show You Hot
Date: June 20 2011 17:08
To: Anastasia Steele
My darling wife-to-be
Maybe I can use the tie this evening, when I test your stamina.
Christian Grey
Impatient CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
PS: The sabotage is just conjecture. Don’t worry about it. This is not a request.
The elevator doors open.
“Happy birthday, Mr. Grey!” There’s a cacophony of voices. Andrea is standing by the doors, holding a large frosted cake with Happy Birthday and Congratulations, Mr. Grey written in blue icing across the top. There’s a solitary gold candle burning on top.
What the fuck.
This has never happened.
Ever.
The throng—which includes Ros, Barney, Fred, Marco, Vanessa, and all the VPs of their departments—breaks into a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday.” I fix a smile on my face to hide my surprise and, when they finish, blow out the candle. They all cheer and start applauding, as if I’ve done something worthy of celebration.
Sarah offers me a champagne flute.
There are shouts of “Speech. Speech.”
“Well, this is a surprise.” I turn to Andrea, who gives me a slight shrug. “But thank you.”
Ros pipes up, “We’re all grateful you’re still here, Christian, especially me, because it means I’m still here, too.” There’s a smattering of polite laughter and applause. “So we wanted to express our gratitude in some way. All of us.” She extends an arm to our colleagues. “We also want to wish you a happy birthday and congratulations on your good news. Let’s raise a glass.” She does. “To Christian Grey.”
My name echoes through the office.
I raise my glass to salute her and take a large swig.
There’s more applause.
I really don’t understand what has gotten into my staff. Why now? What gives?
“Was this your idea?” I ask Andrea when she hands me a slice of cake.
“No, sir. It was Ros’s.”
“But you got all this together.”
“Sarah and I did, sir.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Grey.”
Ros gives me a warm smile and tips her glass toward me, and I remember I owe her a pair of navy Manolos.
It takes me th
irty-five minutes to extricate myself from the little gathering in my office. I’m touched, and I’m surprised that I’m touched. I must be going soft in my old age. But as ever, I’m anxious to return home…anxious to see Ana.
She comes dashing out of the rear entrance to SIP and my heart flips to see her. Sawyer is by her side; he opens the Audi door and she slides in beside me while Sawyer climbs in front with Taylor.
“Hi.” Her smile is dazzling.
“Hi.” Taking her hand, I kiss her knuckles. “How was your day?”
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Elena’s eyes are like flint. Cold. Hard. She’s in my face. Angry. I was the best thing that ever happened to you. Look at you now. One of the richest, most successful entrepreneurs in the United States. Controlled, driven, you need nothing. You are master of your universe. Now she’s on her knees. In front of me. Bowed. Naked. Her forehead pressed to the basement floor. Her hair a shining coronet of lightning against the dark wooden boards. Her hand is stretched out. Splayed. Tipped with scarlet nails. She’s begging. Keep your head on the floor. My voice echoes off the concrete walls. She wants me to stop. She’s had enough. My grip tightens on the crop. Enough, Grey. I wrap my fingers around my cock, hard from her mouth, covered in crimson smears from her lipstick. My palm moves up and down. Faster. Faster. Faster. Yes. I come and come. With a loud guttural cry. Painting her back with my cum. I stand over her. Panting. Heady. Sated. There’s a crash. The door flies open. His frame fills the doorway. He roars, and the blood-curdling sound fills the room. No. Elena screams. Fuck. No. No. No. He’s here. He knows. Elena stands between me and him. No, she cries, and he hits her so hard she falls to the floor. She screams. And screams. Leave him. Leave him. I’m in shock. And he hits me. A right hook to my chin. I fall. And fall. My head spins. I’m faint. No. Stop the screaming. Stop. It goes on. And on. I’m under the kitchen table. My hands on my ears. But they don’t shut out the noise. He’s here. I hear his boots. Big boots. With buckles. She’s screaming. And screaming. What did he do? Where is she? I smell his stench before I see him and he peers under the table, a lit cigarette in his hand. There you are, you little shit.
I wake instantly, gasping for air and doused in a sheen of sweat with fear streaking through my veins.
Where am I?
My eyes adjust to the light. I’m at home. Escala. The coming dawn casts a faint rosy glow over Ana’s sleeping form, and relief rushes through me like a cool autumn breeze.
Thank fuck.
She’s here. With me.
I blow out a long, steadying breath as I try to clear my head.
What the hell was that about?
I rarely dream about Elena, much less about that horrific moment in our shared history. I shudder as I lie staring at the ceiling, and I know I’m too wired to get back to sleep. I contemplate waking Ana—wanting to lose myself in her once more—but I know that’s not fair. Last night she more than proved her stamina; she has to work later today and she needs her sleep. Besides, I’m ill at ease, my skin’s crawling, and the nightmare has left a sour taste in my mouth. It must be the severing of my friendship and business relationship with Elena that’s haunting my psyche. After all, Mrs. Lincoln has been my lodestar for over a decade.
Shit.
It had to be done.
It’s over. All of that is over.
Sitting up I run my hand through my hair, careful not to disturb Ana. It’s early—5:05—and right now, I need a glass of water.
I swivel out of bed and find I’m standing on my tie, discarded after last night’s diverting shenanigans. A delicious memory of Ana invades my senses, her hands bound above her head, her body rigid, her head tipped back in ecstasy as she clutches the pale gray slats of the headboard, while I lavish my attention on her clitoris with my tongue. It’s a much more pleasing recollection than the remnants of my nightmare. I pick up my tie, fold it, and place it on the nightstand.
It’s unusual for me to have nightmares when Ana is sleeping beside me. I hope it’s a one-off. I’m grateful that I have an appointment with Flynn later today so I can dissect this new development with him.
Pulling on my PJ pants, I grab my phone and exit the bedroom. Perhaps some Chopin or Bach will soothe me.
As I sit down at the piano, I check my messages, and there’s one from Welch, left at midnight, that catches my eye.
Welch
Sabotage suspected.
Initial report first thing this morning.
Fuck. My scalp tingles as the blood drains from my head.
My fears have been confirmed. Someone wants me dead.
Who?
My mind rolls through the few business associates I’ve outplayed over the years.
Woods? Stevens? Carver? Who else? Waring?
Would they stoop to this?
They all made money; lots of money. They just lost their companies. I can’t believe this could be connected to my commercial activities.
Perhaps it’s personal?
There’s only one person who looms large in that regard and it’s Linc. But Elena’s ex-husband already took his revenge on her, and that was years ago. Why would he act now?
Perhaps it’s someone else. A disgruntled employee? An ex? I can’t think of anyone who would do this. Apart from Leila, they’re all doing well.
I need to process this.
Ana! Shit!
If they’re coming after me, they could hurt her. Fear steals through me like a ghost, leaving goose bumps in its wake. I have to protect Ana at all costs. I text Welch.
Meet this morning.
8 am Grey House
Welch
Copy
I text Andrea so she can clear any meetings I may have, then e-mail Taylor.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sabotage
Date: June 21 2011 05:18
To: J B Taylor
Welch has informed me that Charlie Tango may have been sabotaged. The initial report will be with us later this morning. We’re meeting at Grey House at 8 am.
Reinstate Reynolds and Ryan if they’re still available. I want Ana accompanied at all times. Sawyer can stay with her today.
Thanks.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I need to release all my pent-up nervous energy and decide on a workout. Sneaking into my closet, I change quickly and quietly, not wanting to wake Ana.
While I run on the treadmill, I watch the markets on TV, listen to the Foo Fighters, and wonder who the hell wants to kill me.
Ana smells of sleep and sex and a fragrant orchard in the fall. For a moment I’m transported to a happier time, when I’m hassle free, and it’s just me and my girl. “Hey, baby, wake up.” I nuzzle her ear.
She opens her eyes, and her face, already soft from sleep, glows like a golden dawn. “Good morning,” she says, and runs her thumb across my lips, then gives me a chaste kiss.
“Sleep well?” I ask.
“Hmm…you smell so good. You look so good.”
I grin. It’s just a well-tailored suit. “I have to go into the office early.”
She sits up. “Already?” She glances at the radio alarm. It’s 7:08.
“Something’s come up. Sawyer will stick close today and keep the press at bay. You okay with that?”
She nods.
Good. I don’t want to frighten her with the news about Charlie Tango.
“I’ll see you later.” I kiss her forehead and leave before I’m tempted to stay.
The report is brief.
FAA Accident and Incident Reporting System (AIRS)
GENERAL INFORMATION
Data Source: ACCIDENT AND INCIDENT DATABASE
Report Number: 20110453923
Local Date: 17-JUN-11
City: CASTL
E ROCK
State: WA
Airport Name: PORTLAND HELIPORT
Event Type: INCIDENT
Mid Air Collision: NOT A MIDAIR
AIRCRAFT INFORMATION
Aircraft Damage: SUBSTANTIAL
Aircraft Make: EURCPT
Aircraft Model: EC-135
Aircraft Series: EC-135-P2
Airframe Hrs: 1470
Operator: GEH INC
Type of Operation: AIR TAXI/COMMUTER
Registration Nbr: N124CT
Total Aboard: 2
Fatalities: 0
Injuries: 0
Aircraft Weight Class: UNDER 12501 LBS
Number of Engines: 2
Engine Make: TURBOM
Engine Model: ARRIUS 2B2
ENVIRONMENTAL/OPERATIONS INFO
Primary Fight Conditions: VISUAL FLIGHT RULES
Secondary Flight Conditions: WEATHER NOT A FACTOR
Flight Plan Filed: YES
PILOT IN COMMAND
Pilot Certificate: COMMERCIAL PILOT
Pilot Rating: ROTORCRAFT/HELICOPTER
Pilot Qualification: QUALIFIED
Flight Time Total Hours: 1180
Total in Make/Model: 860
Total in Last 90 Days: 28
EVENT REMARKS
ON JUNE 17, 2011, AT APPROXIMATELY 14:20 PT, AN EC-135, N124CT, OWNED AND OPERATED BY GREY ENTERPRISES HOLDINGS INC, HAD A MAJOR INCIDENT. THE AIRCRAFT WAS STABLE WHEN THE AIRCRAFT SUDDENLY PITCHED AND THE #1 ENGINE FIRE-LIGHT ILLUMINATED. THE PILOT SECURED THE #1 ENGINE WITH THE FIRE BOTTLE AND ATTEMPTED TO RETURN TO SEA-TAC ON THE REMAINING ENGINE. #2 ENGINE FIRE-LIGHT ILLUMINATED. THE PILOT MADE AN EMERGENCY LANDING AT THE SOUTH-EAST CORNER OF SILVER LAKE. ON LANDING THE PILOT DEPLOYED THE SECOND FIRE BOTTLE AND SHUTDOWN AND EVACUATED THE AIRCRAFT. NO INJURIES WERE REPORTED. THE PILOT DEPLOYED THE ONBOARD PORTABLE FIRE EXTINGUISHER. THE AIRCRAFT MANUFACTURER IS EXAMINING THE AIRCRAFT ENGINES AND THE INITIAL ASSESSMENT IS THAT THE DAMAGE IS SUSPICIOUS AND MAY BE A RESULT OF MALICIOUS INTERFERENCE. THE NTSB WILL REQUIRE FURTHER REVIEW.
In my office, Welch, Taylor, and I pore over the report. Welch’s grizzled face is craggier than ever in the harsh morning light, his expression grim. “At the moment, the NTSB only suspects sabotage, but we should proceed as if there was malicious interference. To that end, we’ve checked through all the CCTV footage at the helipad in Portland and found no suspicious activity.” He shuffles in his chair and clears his throat. “However, there’s an issue in the GEH hangar at Boeing Field.”