Fifty Shades of Grey (Fifty Shades #1)(60)
Author: E.L. James

– I hadn’t really appreciated that before.

"You’ll still come to the opening of my show, won’t you?"

"Of course, Jose, when is it?"

"June 9."

"What day is that?" I suddenly panic.

"It’s a Thursday."

"Yeah I should make that… and you will visit us in Seattle?"

"Try and stop me." He grins.

It’s late when I arrive back from the bar. Kate and Elliot are nowhere to be seen but boy can they be heard. Holy shit. I hope I’m not that loud. I know Christian isn’t. I flush at the thought and escape to my room. After a brief not-at-all-awkward-thank-goodness hug, Jose has gone. I don’t know when I’ll see him again, probably his photographic show, and once again, I’m blown away that he finally has an exhibition. I shall miss him and his boy-ish charm. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the Beetle, I know he’ll freak when he finds out, and I can only deal with one man at a time freaking out at me. Once in my room, I check the mean machine, and of course, there’s an email from Christian.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Where Are You?

Date: May 27 2011 22:14

To: Anastasia Steele

‘I am at work. I will email you when I get home.’

Are you still at work or have you packed your phone, BlackBerry and MacBook?

Call me, or I may be forced to call Elliot.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Crap… Jose… shit.

I grab my phone. Five missed calls and one voice message. Tentatively, I listen to the message. It’s Christian.

‘I think you need to learn to manage my expectations. I am not a patient man. If you say you are going to contact me when you finish work, then you should have the decency to do so. Otherwise, I worry, and it’s not an emotion I’m familiar with, and I don’t tolerate it very well. Call me.’

Double crap. Will he ever give me a breakI scowl at the phone. He is suffocating me. With a deep dread uncurling in my stomach, I scroll down to his number and press dial. My heart is in my mouth as I wait for him to answer. He’d probably like to beat seven shades of shit out of me . The thought is depressing.

"Hi," he says softly, and his response knocks me off balance because I am expecting his anger, but if anything, he sounds relieved.

"Hi," I murmur.

"I was worried about you."

"I know. I’m sorry I didn’t reply, but I’m fine."

He pauses for a beat.

"Did you have a pleasant evening?" He is crisply polite.

"Yes. We finished packing and Kate and I shared a Chinese take-out with Jose." I close my eyes tightly as I say Jose’s name. Christian says nothing.

"How about you?" I ask to fill the sudden deafening chasm of silence. I will not let him guilt me out about Jose.

Eventually, he sighs.

"I went to a fundraising dinner. It was deathly dull. I left as soon as I could."

He sounds so sad and resigned. My heart clenches. I picture him all those nights ago sat at the piano in his huge living room and the unbearable bittersweet melancholy of the music he was playing.

"I wish you were here," I whisper, because I have an urge to hold him. Soothe him.

Even though he won’t let me. I want his proximity.

"Do you?" he murmurs blandly. Holy mackerel. This doesn’t sound like him, and my scalp prickles with dawning apprehension.

"Yes," I breathe. After an eternity, he sighs.

"I’ll see you Sunday?"

"Yes, Sunday," I murmur, and a thrill courses through my body.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sir."

My address catches him unawares, I can tell by his sharp intake of breath.

"Good luck with your move tomorrow, Anastasia." His voice is soft. And we’re both hanging on the phone like teenagers, neither wanting to hang up.

"You hang up," I whisper. Finally, I sense his smile.

"No, you hang up." And I know he’s grinning.

"I don’t want to."

"Neither do I."

"Were you very angry with me?"

"Yes."

"Are you still?"

"No."

"So you’re not going to punish me?"

"No. I’m an in-the-moment kind of guy."

"I’ve noticed."

"You can hang up now, Miss Steele."

"Do you really want me to, Sir?"

"Go to bed, Anastasia."

"Yes, Sir."

We both stay on the line.

"Do you ever think you’ll be able to do what you’re told?" He’s amused and exasperated at once.

"Maybe. We’ll see after Sunday." And I press ‘end’ on the phone.

Elliot stands and admires his handiwork. He has re-plugged our TV into the satellite system in our Pike Place Market apartment. Kate and I flop on to the couch giggling, impressed by his prowess with a power drill. The flat screen looks odd against the brickwork of the converted warehouse, but no doubt I will get used to it.

"See, baby, easy." He grins a wide white-toothed smile at Kate, and she almost literally dissolves into the couch.

I roll my eyes at the pair of them.

"I’d love to stay, baby, but my sister is back from Paris. It’s a compulsory family dinner tonight."

"Can you come by after?" Kate asks tentatively, all soft and un-Katelike.

I stand and make my way over to the kitchen area on the pretense of unpacking one of the crates. They are going to get icky.

"I’ll see if I can escape," he promises.

"I’ll come down with you." Kate smiles.

"Laters, Ana." Elliot grins.

"Bye, Elliot. Say hi to Christian from me."

"Just hi?" His eyebrows shoot up suggestively.

"Yes." I flush. He winks at me, and I go crimson as he follows Kate out of the apartment.Elliot is adorable and so different from Christian. He’s warm, open, physical, very physical, too physical, with Kate. They can barely keep their hands off each other – to be honest it’s embarrassing – and I am pea-green with envy.

Kate returns about twenty minutes later with pizza, and we sit, surrounded by crates, in our new open space, eating straight from the box. Kate’s dad has done us proud. The apartment is not large, but it’s big enough, three bedrooms and a large living space that looks out on to Pike Place Market itself. It’s all solid wood floors and red brick, and the kitchen tops are smooth concrete, very utilitarian, very now. We both love that we will be in the heart of the city.

At eight the entry-phone buzzes. Kate leaps up – and my heart leaps into my mouth.

"Delivery, Miss Steele, Miss Kavanagh." Disappointment flows freely and unexpectedly through my veins. It’s not Christian.

"Second floor, apartment two."

Kate buzzes the delivery boy in. His mouth falls open when he sees Kate, all tight jeans, t-shirt, hair piled high with escaping tendrils. She has that effect on men. He holds a bottle of champagne with a helicopter-shaped balloon attached. She gives him a dazzling smile to send him on his way and proceeds to read the card out to me.

Ladies, Good luck in your new home, Christian Grey.

Kate shakes her head in disapproval.

"Why can’t he just write ‘from Christian’And what’s with the weird helicopter balloon?"

"Charlie Tango."

"What?"

"Christian flew me to Seattle in his helicopter." I shrug.

Kate stares at me open mouthed. I have to say – I love these occasions – Katherine Kavanagh, silent and floored, they are so rare. I take a brief and luxurious moment to enjoy it.

"Yep, he has a helicopter, which he flew himself," I state proudly.

"Of course the obscenely rich bastard has a helicopter. Why didn’t you tell me?" Kate looks accusingly at me, but she’s smiling, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I’ve had a lot on my mind lately."

She frowns.

"Are you going to be okay while I’m away?"

"Of course." I answer reassuringly. New city, no job… nut-job boyfriend.

"Did you give him our address?

"No, but stalking is one of his specialties." I muse, matter-of-fact.

Kate’s brow knits further.

"Somehow I’m not surprised. He worries me, Ana. At least it’s a good champagne and it’s chilled."

Of course, only Christian would send chilled champagne or get his secretary to do it…

or maybe Taylor. We open it there and then and find our teacups – they were the last items to be packed.

"Bollinger Grande Annee Rose 1999, an excellent vintage." I grin at Kate, and we clink teacups.