Chapter 19


    "Jose I''m okay. I''ve got this." I try and push him away rather feebly.


    "Ana, please," he whispers, and now he''s holding me in his arms, pulling me close.


    "Jose, what you doing?"


    "You know I like you Ana, please." He has one hand at the small of my back holding me against him,


    the other at my chin tipping back my head. Holy f**k... he''s going to kiss me. "No Jose, stop - no." I


    push him, but he''s a wall of hard muscle, and I cannot shift him.


    His hand has slipped into my hair, and he''s holding my head in ce.


    "Please, Ana, cari?a," he whispers against my lips. His breath is soft and smells too sweet - of


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    margarita and beer. He gently trails kisses along my jaw up to the side of my mouth. I feel panicky,


    drunk, and out of control. The feeling is suffocating.


    "Jose, no," I plead. I don''t want this. You are my friend, and I think I''m going to throw up. "I think the


    me.


    "Grey," he says tersely. I nce anxiously up at Christian. He''s glowering at Jose, and he''s furious.


    Crap. My stomach heaves, and I double over, my body no longer able to tolerate the alcohol, and I


    vomit spectacrly on to the ground.


    "Ugh - Dios mio, Ana!" Jose jumps back in disgust. Grey grabs my hair and pulls it out of the firing line


    and gently leads me over to a raised flowerbed on the edge of the parking lot. I note, with deep


    gratitude, that it''s in rtive darkness.


    "If you''re going to throw up again, do it here. I''ll hold you." He has one arm around my shoulders - the


    other is holding my hair in a makeshift ponytail down my back so it''s off my face. I try awkwardly to


    push him away, but I vomit again... and again. Oh shit...


    how long is this going tost Even when my stomach''s empty and nothing ising up, horrible dry


    heaves wrack my body. I vow silently that I''ll never ever drink again. This is just too appalling for words.


    Finally, it stops.


    My hands are resting on the brick wall of the flowerbed, barely holding me up - vomiting profusely is


    exhausting. Grey takes his hands off me and passes me a handkerchief.


    Only he would have a monogrammed, freshlyundered, linen handkerchief. CTG. I didn''t know you


    could still buy these. Vaguely I wonder what the T stands for as I wipe my mouth. I cannot bring myself


    to look at him. I''m swamped with shame, disgusted with myself. I want to be swallowed up by the


    azaleas in the flowerbed and be anywhere but here.Jose is still hovering by the entrance to the bar,


    watching us. I groan and put my head in my hands. This has to be the single worst moment of my life.


    My head is still swimming as I try to remember a worse one - and I can onlye up with Christian''s


    rejection - and this is so, so many shades darker in terms of humiliation. I risk a peek at him. He''s


    staring down at me, his faceposed, giving nothing away. Turning, I nce at Jose who looks pretty


    shamefaced himself and, like me, intimidated by Grey. I re at him. I have a few choice words for my


    so-called friend, none of which I can repeat in front of Christian Grey CEO. Ana who are you kidding,


    he''s just seen you hurl all over the ground and into the local flora. There''s no disguising yourck of


    "I''ll err... see you inside," Jose mutters, but we both ignore him, and he slinks off back into the building.


    I''m on my own with Grey. Double crap. What should I say to him?


    Apologize for the phone call.


    "I''m sorry," I mutter, staring at the handkerchief which I am furiously worrying with my fingers. It''s so


    soft.


    "What are you sorry for Anastasia?"


    Oh crap, he wants his damned pound of flesh.


    "The phone call mainly, being sick. Oh, the list is endless," I murmur, feeling my skin coloring up.


    Please, please can I die now?


    "We''ve all been here, perhaps not quite as dramatically as you," he says dryly. "It''s about knowing your


    limits, Anastasia. I mean, I''m all for pushing limits, but really this is beyond the pale. Do you make a


    habit of this kind of behavior?"


    My head buzzes with excess alcohol and irritation. What the hell has it got to do with himI didn''t invite


    him here. He sounds like a middle-aged man scolding me like an errant child. Part of me wants to say,


    if I want to get drunk every night like this, then it''s my decision and nothing to do with him - but I''m not


    brave enough. Not now that I''ve thrown up in front of him. Why is he still standing there?


    "No," I say contritely. "I''ve never been drunk before and right now I have no desire to ever be again."


    I just don''t understand why he''s here. I begin to feel faint. He notices my dizziness and grabs me


    before I fall and hoists me into his arms, holding me close to his chest like a child.


    "Come on, I''ll take you home," he murmurs.


    "I need to tell Kate." Holy Moses, I''m in his arms again.


    "My brother can tell her."


    "What?"


    "My brother Elliot is talking to Miss Kavanagh."


    "Oh?" I don''t understand.


    "He was with me when you phoned."


    "In Seattle?" I''m confused.


    "No, I''m staying at the Heathman."


    StillWhy?


    "How did you find me?"


    "I tracked your cell phone Anastasia."


    Oh, of course he did. How is that possibleIs it legalStalker, my subconscious whispers at me through


    the cloud of tequ that''s still floating in my brain, but somehow, because it''s him, I don''t mind.


    "Do you have a jacket or a purse?"


    "Err... yes, I came with both. Christian, please, I need to tell Kate. She''ll worry." His mouth presses into


    a hard line, and he sighs heavily.


    "If you must."


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