Chapter 45
My sigh is as exaggerated as I can make it.
Elliotughs. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“I don’t know, Elliot. It depends what you have nned.”
“It will take your mind off your woes.”
Woes? “What fucking woes?”
“I dunno. Someone trying to kill you?”
Oh, yes. That. “You’re so crass. Hard to believe we’ve been raised by the same people.”
Heughs. “Laters, dude.” And he hangs up.
Asshole.
But he has a point. Welch has made no further progress in uncovering Charlie Tango’s saboteur. I’ve
fired the entire team responsible for her care and maintenance, and I’m still waiting for the report from
the NTSB. I’m beginning to wonder if the original FAA assessment was hasty in suspecting malicious
interference, or if the damage was a random act of vandalism. Both these oues are possible, and
give me a modicum of hope, but I don’t want to drop my guard yet. Ana’s safety is all that I care about.
I’ve had security ramped up around the GEH Gulfstream and she’s been on two test flights since
Charlie Tango’s demise. She’ll be taking us to Europe for our honeymoon.
I’m still waiting to hear from Burgess about the yacht, but I have my fingers crossed that I’ll get the one
I want. I imagine Ana stretched out on deck in a bikini.
Wait. Does she own a bikini?
I don’t remember including swimwear in the clothes the personal shopper at Neiman Marcus sourced
for Ana. That was a lifetime ago. As my wife, Ana is going to need more clothes—for her vacation,
functions, her work… I scroll through my contacts, and when Caroline Acton’s name appears, I press
call.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Dedicated Follower of Fashion
Date: July 18 2011 15:22
To: Anastasia Steele
My darling Anastasia
I have made an appointment for us to meet Caroline Acton at 10:30 on Saturday morning to furnish you
with a new wardrobe for our honeymoon.
No arguments.
Please.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Threads?
Date: July 18 2011 15:27
To: Christian Grey
Me? Argue?
Do I need a new wardrobe?
I don’t think so. I have plenty of clothes.
See you at 5 p.m.
Ax
I frown. This is not going to be easy.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: New Threads
Date: July 18 2011 15:29
To: Anastasia Steele
Yes. You do.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Men with more money than sense…
Date: July 18 2011 15:32
To: Christian Grey
Is brevity the soul of wit?
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: That’s Me.
Date: July 18 2011 15:33
To: Anastasia Steele
Copyright by N?v/elDrama.Org.
Yes. ;)
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Grrr…
Date: July 18 2011 15:34
To: Christian Grey
I amte for my meeting.
Stop being so funny.
Laters. Baby.
Axx
My phone buzzes. “Yes, Sam.”
“Christian, Star magazine has gotten hold of some shots of Anastasia and want to run a story on her; a
rags-to-riches kinda thing.”
“What the fuck?”
“I know.”
“What kind of shots?”
“Nothing scious.”
Thank fuck.
Wait. There shouldn’t be any scious shots of Ana. Should there?
“Tell them to fuck off. Rope Ros in. Threaten them with legal action.”
Sam takes a deep breath. “They’ll be published while you’re away on your honeymoon. The photos are
okay. If you want my advice, let them run and ignore them. It will be more of a story if you don’t.”
I can almost hear his I told you so vibe over the phone. He wanted us to do a photoshoot; maybe I
should have conceded.
Hell.
“Send me what you have,” I snap.
Fucking paparazzi!
A momentter his e-mail pops up in my inbox, and I read the attachment quickly. Grudgingly, I admit
he might be right. It’s not that bad, and the photographs of Ana are okay, if grainy. But they also have
her yearbook photo. She looks cute. And young. I call him. “Let me think about this.”
At the new house, we follow Gia Matteo through each room. “I love the staircase,” she enthuses. “I’m
not surprised you want to retain it.” She beams at me as if it were my idea.
Sweetheart. I wanted to knock this house down and build something new. It’s Ana who has fallen in
love with the old ce.
“I love the period features,” Ana asserts.
Gia shes her a smile. “Of course,” she says. We follow her into the main living area. Elliot hangs
back; he’s uncharacteristically quiet, and I wonder if it’s because he has a sexual history with Ms.
Matteo—I don’t know. She’s vocal, with some out-of-the-box ideas, and I remember meeting her briefly
when she did the renovation to my house in Aspen. She did a fantastic job on that.
“I love this room,” Gia says when we enter the main living room. “It has an airy quality that I think we
should embrace.” She reaches over and pats my arm.
Damn.
I’ve spent my life subtly maneuvering myself out of anyone’s reach. It’s a self-defense mechanism that
I’ve cultivated over the years to keep people out of my space and make them back the hell off. A step
here, a slide to the side there, angling my shoulders left or right to avoid physical contact, I have it
down to a fine art. I hate to be touched. No. I fear it. Except by Ana, of course. Kickboxing has helped. I
can tolerate the rough and tumble of a match and a firm handshake…or the bite of a cane orsh.
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