Chapter 85


    Her ankles!


    They’re probably marked, too.


    Shit.


    Reaching down, I grasp her ankle and gently ease her foot onto myp. She swivels in her seat and


    faces me. “I want the other one, too.” I need to see for myself. She looks toward Taylor and Ferreux.


    Còntens bel0ngs to N?(v)elDr/a/ma.Org


    She’s shy?


    What does she think I’m going to do?


    I press the privacy screen button and it slowly rises out of the panel in front of us until we’re partitioned


    off from them. “I want to look at your ankles.”


    She frowns and ces her other foot in myp. I skim my thumb up her instep and she squirms.


    She’s ticklish. I don’t know why I haven’t registered this before.


    I undo the strap on her sandal. And there it is. Another mark. Darker than those on her wrists. “Doesn’t


    hurt,” she says.


    I’m an inconsiderate asshole.


    I massage the line in the hope that it will disappear, and look back out of the window at the passing


    countryside. She wriggles her foot, and her sandal falls into the footwell. But I ignore it.


    “Hey. What did you expect?” she asks.


    She’s gazing at me as if I’ve beamed down from Mars.


    I shrug. “I didn’t expect to feel like I do looking at these marks.”


    “How do you feel?”


    Shitty.


    “Ufortable,” I mutter.


    And I don’t really know why.


    Suddenly she unbuckles her seat belt and scoots closer to me and grabs both of my hands. “It’s the


    hickeys I don’t like,” she hisses. “Everything else…what you did”—her voice drops lower—“with the


    handcuffs, I enjoyed that. Well, more than enjoyed. It was mind-blowing. You can do that to me again


    anytime.”


    Oh.


    “Mind-blowing?” Her words are a small boost to my mood and my libido.


    “Yes.” She grins and curls her toes around my more-than-interested dick.


    “You should really be wearing your seat belt, Mrs. Grey.”


    She teases me with her toes once more.


    I nce at the ss. Could we…? But myscivious thoughts are interrupted by my phone vibrating.


    Shit. I remove it from my shirt pocket.


    It’s work. I check my watch. It’s early in Seattle.


    “Barney,” I answer, while Ana tries to withdraw her feet from the close proximity of my dick. I tighten my


    hold on her feet.


    “Mr. Grey. There’s been a fire in the server room.”


    What? “In the server room?” How the hell did that happen?


    “Yes, sir.”


    The servers? Fuck! “Did it activate the fire-suppression system?”


    Ana removes her feet from myp, and this time I let her.


    “Yes, sir. It did.”


    I hit the button to lower the privacy ss so Taylor can hear me. “Anyone injured?”


    “No, sir,” Barney responds.


    “Damage?”


    “Very little, from what I’ve been told.”


    “I see.”


    “Security were quick to call.”


    “When?” I nce at my watch again.


    “Just now. The fire’s out, but they want to know if we should call the fire department.”


    “No, not the fire department or the police. Not yet anyway.”


    I need to think.


    “Welch has just called me on the other line,” Barney says.


    “Has he?”


    “He’s probably trying to get ahold of you. I’ll text him.”


    “Good.”


    “I’m heading to Grey House now.”


    “Okay. I want a detailed damage report. And aplete rundown of everyone who had ess over the


    “Yes, sir.”


    “Get ahold of Andrea and get her to call me.”


    “Will do. It was a good move to change from the outdated suppression system,” Barney says as he


    blows out a breath.


    “Yeah, sounds like the argon is just as effective, worth its weight in gold.”


    “Yes, sir.”


    “I realize it’s early.”


    “I was awake. There’ll be no traffic now,” Barney continues. “I’ll be there in no time. And I’ll see what’s


    up.”


    “E-mail me in two hours.”


    “I hope you don’t mind that I called.”


    “No, I need to know. Thank you for calling me.” I hang up and call Welch, who is heading to Grey


    House as we speak. During a brief exchange, we agree to increase security at the off-site data center


    as a precaution, and that we’ll talk in an hour. When I end my call with him, I direct Philippe to get us


    back on board as soon as possible.


    “Monsieur.” Ferreux speeds up.


    I wonder what could have gone wrong in the server room? An electrical fault? Something overheated?


    Arson?


    Ana looks wary. “Anyone hurt?” she asks.


    I shake my head. “Very little damage.” Though I haven’t had a damage report, I want to reassure her.


    Reaching over, I take her hand and give it aforting squeeze. “Don’t worry about this. My team is on


    it.”


    “Where was the fire?”


    “Server room.”


    “Grey House?”


    “Yes.”


    “Why so little damage?”


    “The server room is fitted with a state-of-the-art fire-suppression system. Ana, please, don’t worry.”


    “I’m not worried,” she whispers, but I’m not convinced.


    “We don’t know for sure that it was arson.” And that’s my biggest fear.


    I’m in the small study aboard Fair Lady. Welch and Barney are at GEH and Andrea is making her way


    into the office early. Now that Welch has inspected the damage, he’s advised that we get the fire


    department in so an expert can establish what started the fire. He doesn’t want a stream of people in


    the server room contaminating any evidence. We run through a list of protocols, and as I feared, he’s


    not ruling out arson. He’spiling lists of everyone who has had ess to the server room in


    advance of the fire department’s report.


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