Chapter 9


    “Will you test my staminater?” Her voice is low and sultry.


    Oh, Ana. Desire streaks through my body like lightning.


    “Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”


    “I’m so d to hear that, Christian Grey.”


    She’s far too good at this game. “I’m so happy you called me,” I say. “Made my day.”


    “I aim to please.” She giggles. “I must call your personal trainer, so I can keep up with you!”


    Iugh. “Bastille will be delighted.”


    She’s silent for a moment. “Thank you for making me feel better.”


    “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”


    “It is. And you do it well.”


    I bask in her loving words. Ana, you make me feel whole.


    There’s a knock on my door, and I know it’s either Andrea or Sarah with my lunch.


    “I’ve got to go.”


    “Thank you, Christian,” she says.


    “For what?”


    “Being you. Oh, one more thing. The news of you buying SIP is still embargoed, isn’t it?”


    “Yes, for another three weeks.”


    “Okay. I’ll try and remember that.”


    “Do. Laters, baby.”


    “Okay. Laters, Christian.”


    Andrea and Sarah have gone all out today. I have my favorite sandwich—turkey club with a pickle on


    the side—a sprinkling of sd, and some potato chips, all served on a tray with GEH linen, a cut


    crystal highball ss with sparkling water, and a matching vase sporting a perky pink rose.


    “Thanks,” I mutter, bemused, as they both fuss setting up the tray.


    Text ? by N0ve/lDrama.Org.


    “Pleasure, Mr. Grey,” Andrea says with a smile that is bing less rare. They both seem strangely


    distracted and a little skittish today. What are they up to?


    While I tuck into lunch I check my messages. There’s another one from Elena.


    Shit.


    Elena


    Call me. Please.


    Elena


    Call me. I’m going crazy.


    Elena


    I don’t know what to say.


    I’ve been thinking about what happened all weekend.


    And I don’t know why things got so out of control.


    I’m sorry. Call me.


    Elena


    Please answer my calls.


    I have to deal with her. My parents want me to cut ties with Mrs. Lincoln, and frankly I don’t know how


    wee back from all that we spewed at each other on Saturday evening.


    I said some pretty awful things.


    So did she.


    It’s time to end it.


    I told Ana I would gift Elena thepany.


    I scroll through my contacts and find the number of my personalwyer. Ironically, it was Elena who first


    put us in touch. Debra Kingston is amercialwyer who also happens to enjoy the same lifestyle


    that I do. She’s drafted all my D/s contracts and NDAs, and handled my dealings with Mrs. Lincoln and


    our joint business.


    I press call.


    “Christian, good afternoon. Long time no speak. I understand congrattions are in order.”


    “Thanks, Debra.”


    Jesus! She knows, too.


    “What can I do for you?”


    “I want to gift the salon business to Elena Lincoln.”


    “Excuse me?” Her voice rings with disbelief.


    “You heard me right. I want to gift the business to Elena. I’d like you to draw up a contract. Everything.


    Loans. Property. Assets. All of it. It’s all hers.”


    “Are you sure?”


    “Yes.”


    “You’re cutting ties?”


    “I am. I want nothing to do with it. No liabilities.”


    “Christian, as yourwyer I have to ask, are you sure you want to do this? This is an incredibly


    generous gift. You stand to lose hundreds of thousands of dors.”


    “Debra, I’m well aware of that.”


    She huffs into the phone. “Okay, if you insist. I’ll send over a draft in the next couple of days.”


    “Thank you. And I want to conduct all correspondence with her through you.”


    “You two have really fallen out.”


    I am not going to discuss my private life with Debra. Well, not this aspect of my private life.


    “I get it,” she adds. “Keeping the ball and chain happy?”


    What. The. Hell?


    “Debra, just do the fucking contract.”


    Her response is tight-lipped. “Very well, Christian. And I’ll let Mrs. Lincoln know.”


    “Good. Thank you.”


    That should get Elena off my back.


    I hang up.


    Whoa. I’ve done it.


    And it feels good. A relief. I’ve just kissed good-bye to a small fortune by GEH standards, but I owe her


    that much. Without her there would be no GEH.


    “I’ve been thinking about our recent conversation, Christian.”


    “Yes, Ma’am?”


    “You, leaving Harvard. I’ll lend you $100,000 to start your business.”


    “You’d do that?”


    “Christian, I have every faith in you. You are destined to be a master of the universe. It will be a loan


    and you can pay me back.”


    “Elena… I…”


    “You can thank me by showing me what you learned earlier today. You top. I’ll bottom. Don’t mark me.”


    I shake my head; so began my training as a Dominant. My sess as a businessman is tied to my


    lifestyle choice. I smirk at the pun and then frown. I can’t believe I’ve never consciously made the


    connection before.


    Shit. I can’t cower behind my desk. I owe her a call.


    Showtime, Grey.


    Reluctantly, I press her contact on my phone.


    She answers on the first ring. “Christian, why haven’t you called me?”


    “I’m calling you now.”


    “What the hell is wrong with your mother and your…fiancée?” she sneers over that final word.


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