Chapter 117


    Baby. Don’t sweat this. “Rx. You’ve more than risen to the challenge. You’ve done very well.”


    You’re very good at what you do, Anastasia Steele.


    “Oh,” she says, and she looks lost.


    And it all bes crystal clear.


    This is what she wants.


    This is her dream, and I can make ite true.


    I vowed I would uphold her dreams during our wedding.


    I don’t want to stifle her; I want to help her reach her full potential. I want her to fly…but just not too far


    away from me.


    “I don’t want to suffocate you, Ana. I don’t want to put you in a gilded cage. Well… Well, the rational


    part of me doesn’t.”


    It’s a gamble, but I y my most ambitious hand yet, voicing the idea that I’ve had on the spur of this


    moment. “So, one of the reasons I’m here—apart from dealing with my errant wife—is to discuss what I


    am going to do with thispany.”


    Ana scowls. “So, what are your ns?” Her sarcasm is threaded through each word and she cocks her


    head to one side, like I do…copying me,ughing at me, I suspect.


    God, I love her; she’s recovered her backbone.


    “I’m changing the name of thepany—to Grey Publishing.”


    Ana blinks.


    “And in a year’s time, it will be yours.”


    Her mouth drops open.


    “This is my wedding present to you.”


    She shuts her mouth, opens it again, then shuts it again, looking shell-shocked.


    “So, do I need to change the name to Steele Publishing?”


    “Christian, you gave me a watch. I can’t run a business.”


    “I ran my own business from the age of twenty-one.”


    “But you’re, you. Control freak and whiz-kid extraordinaire. Jeez, Christian, you majored in economics


    at Harvard before you dropped out. At least you have some idea. I sold paint and cable ties for three


    years on a part-time basis, for heaven’s sake. I’ve seen so little of the world, and I know next to


    nothing!”


    Well, that’s not true.


    “You’re also the most well-read person I know.” I have to pitch this to her. “You love a good book. You


    couldn’t leave your job while we were on our honeymoon. You read how many manuscripts? Four?”


    “Five,” she whispers.


    “And you wrote full reports on all of them. You’re a very bright woman, Anastasia. I’m sure you’ll


    manage.”


    “Are you crazy?”


    “Crazy for you.” Always.


    She snorts, trying not tough. “You’ll be aughingstock. Buying apany for the little woman, who


    has only had a full-time job for a few months of her adult life.”


    I dismiss her concerns with a wave of my hand. “Do you think I give a fuck what people think? Besides,


    you won’t be on your own.”


    “Christian, I—” She stalls, lost for words, and I cherish the moment—it doesn’t happen often. Sheys


    her head in her hands again. When she looks up, she’s trying not tough.


    “Something amusing you, Ms. Steele?”


    “Yes. You.”


    Her amusement is contagious, and I find myself smiling. This is what she does. Disarms me.


    Every time.


    “Laughing at your husband? That will never do.” Her teeth sink into her lovely lower lip. “And you’re


    biting your lip,” I mutter darkly; it’s a stirring sight.


    She sits back. “Don’t even think about it,” she warns.


    “Think about what, Anastasia?”


    Fucking you in your office? Lust streaks through my bloodstream like lightning.


    “I know that look. We’re at work,” she whispers.


    Can’t you feel this, Ana? The sorcery between us is potent. Raw. I lean forward to get closer to her, to


    catch her scent, to touch her. “We’re in a small, reasonably soundproofed office with a lockable door,” I


    whisper.


    I want to seduce my wife.


    Belongs to (N)?vel/Drama.Org.


    “Gross. Moral. Turpitude.” Each word is a bullet forming a shield around her.


    “Not with your husband.”


    “With my boss’s boss’s boss,” she hisses.


    “You’re my wife.”


    “Christian, no. I mean it. You can fuck me seven shades of Sunday this evening. But not now. Not


    here!”


    Hell. I take a deep breath as Ie to my senses and the temperature in the room drops back to


    normal. Iugh, releasing my tension. “Seven shades of Sunday?” I arch a brow, intrigued. “I may hold


    you to that, Ms. Steele.”


    “Oh, stop with the Ms. Steele!” she snaps and hammers her hand on her desk, making us both jump.


    “For heaven’s sake, Christian. If it means so much to you, I’ll change my name!”


    What?


    She’s agreeing?


    I feel a sudden rush of relief.


    My face erupts in a huge grin. I’ve seeded in a negotiation with my wife. I think this might be a first.


    Thank you, Ana.


    “Good.” I p my hands and stand. “Mission aplished. Now, I have work to do. If you’ll excuse


    me, Mrs. Grey.”


    She gawks at me. “But—”


    “But what, Mrs. Grey?”


    She shakes her head and closes her eyes, looking thoroughly exasperated. “Just go.”


    “I intend to. I’ll see you this evening. I’m looking forward to seven shades of Sunday.” I ignore her


    scowl. “Oh, and I have a stack of business-rted social engagementsing up, and I’d like you to


    apany me.”


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