Chapter 20


    “About what?” I ask, cautiously.


    “I would guess that she wants to thank you.”


    “Should I?”


    John leans back in his chair. “Talk to her? I don’t think it’s a good idea.”


    “What harm could it do?”


    “Christian, she has strong feelings for you. She’s disced all that she felt for her deceased lover onto


    you. She thinks she’s in love with you.”


    My scalp tingles and anxiety grips my heart.


    No! How can she love me?


    The thought is intolerable.


    It will only ever be Ana. The sun, the moon, the stars—they rise and set with her.


    “I think for Le’s sake you’ll need to establish clear boundaries if you’re going to engage with her,”


    Flynn says.


    Probably for my sake, too. “Can we keep allmunication between Le and me through you? She


    has my e-mail address, but she hasn’t been in touch.”


    “I suspect that’s because she’s afraid you won’t answer.”


    “She’s right. I’ll never forgive her for holding Ana at gunpoint.”


    “If it’s any constion, she’s full of remorse.”


    I blow out a breath in exasperation; I’m not interested in her remorse. I want her healed and gone. “But


    doing well?” I ask.


    “Yes. Very much so. The art therapy is working wonders; I think she wants to return to her hometown


    and pursue a fine-arts program.”


    “Has she found a school?”


    “She has.”


    “If she stays away from Ana—and me, for that matter—I’ll fund her studies.”


    “That’s very generous of you.” Flynn frowns, and I suspect he might be about to object.


    “I can afford to be generous. I’m just d she’s recovering,” I add quickly.


    “She’ll be discharged this week. She’s going back to her folks.”


    “In Connecticut?”


    He nods.


    “Good.” She’ll be on the other side of the country.


    “I’ve rmended a psychiatrist for her in New Haven, so she doesn’t have to travel too far. She’ll be


    well looked after.” He pauses, then changes the subject. “Have the nightmares ceased?”


    “For now.”


    “And Elena?”


    “I’ve avoided all contact, but I signed the contracts yesterday. It’s done. The Esva group is hers


    now.” The name Elena chose for her salons and the group has always made me smile. Even now.


    “How does that make you feel?”


    “I haven’t really thought about it.” My mind is cluttered with other concerns. “I’m just relieved it’s over.”


    Flynn eyes me for a moment, and I think he’s going to continue this line of inquiry, but he shifts. “And


    how are you feeling in general?”


    I pause to consider his question, and the truth is, apart from the sabotage of my beloved Charlie Tango,


    and that someone wants me dead, I feel…good. I’m anxious, of course, and I’m pissed Ana won’t move


    in to Esc yet, but I understand that she wants another night with me in her apartment, and that could


    happen this weekend. The panic rooms are going into the penthouse and we need to be out of there.


    It’s a hotel, The Grace, or Ana’s.


    “I’m good.”


    “I can see that. I’m surprised.” Flynn looks thoughtful.


    “Why? What is it?” I ask.


    “It’s good to see you externalizing your anxiety, rather than turning it in on yourself.”


    I frown. “I think the threat to my life is external.”


    He nods. “Yes. It is. But it distracts you from giving yourself a hard time.”


    “I’ve not thought of it that way.”


    “Have you spoken to your father?”


    “No.”


    Flynn remains impassive, his lips tightening slightly.


    I sigh. “I’ll get around to it.”


    He nces at the clock. “Time’s up.”


    Friday, July 1, 2011


    There’s a knock on my office door, and as Andrea enters, I look up from the selection of wedding


    stationery that Ana has sent me. “Yes?” I ask, surprised by her intrusion.


    “Your father is here.”


    What? “In the office?”


    “He’s on his way up.”


    Shit!


    “I’m sorry, Mr. Grey,” Andrea continues. “I didn’t want to leave him in the lobby.” She shrugs


    apologetically. “He’s your father.”


    For heaven’s sake. I check the time. It’s 5:15 and I’m due to leave at 5:30 for the long weekend.


    “Ask him to wait.”


    Copyright by N?v/elDrama.Org.


    “Yes, sir.” She leaves and closes the door behind her.


    What the hell.


    I do not want another conversation with good old Dad. Thest one went so well. But thanks to my PA,


    I have no choice.


    Damn.


    He never turns up unannounced…unlike my mother. Taking a deep breath, I stand and stretch. I roll


    down my shirt sleeves and don the cuff links that have been lying on my desk. Grabbing my jacket from


    the back of the chair, I slip it on and fasten one button. I tug at my shirt cuffs, then straighten my tie and


    run my hands through my hair.


    Showtime, Grey.


    Carrick is standing outside my door, holding his battered briefcase. “Dad.” I keep my voice neutral.


    His lips curl into a warm open smile that reveals twenty-four years of love and paternal pride.


    Whoa. It floors me.


    “Son,” he says.


    “Come in. Can I get you anything?” I ask, trying to keep a handle on my suddenly warring emotions.


    Does he want a fight? Make peace? What?


    “Andrea’s already offered me something. I’m fine,” he says. “I won’t be long.” He enters my office and


    takes a quick look around as I close the door. “It’s a while since I’ve been here.”


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