Chapter 1
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WE LAND ON PORTLAND’S downtown helipad fifteen minutester. As I bring Charlie Tango’s
engines to idle and switch off the transponder, fuel, and radios, the uncertainty I’ve felt since I resolved
to win her back resurfaces. I need to tell her how I feel, and that’s going to be hard—because I don’t
understand my feelings toward her. I know that I’ve missed her, that I’ve been miserable without her,
and that I’m willing to try a rtionship her way. But will it be enough for her? Will it be enough for me?
Talk to her, Grey.
Once I’ve unbuckled my harness I lean across to undo hers and catch a trace of her sweet fragrance.
As ever, she smells good. Her eyes meet mine in a furtive nce—revealing an inappropriate thought?
What exactly is she thinking? As usual I’d love to know, but have no idea.
“Good trip, Miss Steele?”
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“Yes, thank you, Mr. Grey.”
“Well, let’s go see the boy’s photos.” I open the door, jump down, and hold my hand out for her.
Joe, the manager of the helipad, is waiting to greet us. He’s an antique: a veteran of the Korean War,
but still as spry and acute as a man in his fifties. Nothing escapes his notice. His eyes light up as he
gives me a craggy smile.
“Joe, keep her safe for Stephan. He’ll be along around eight or nine.”
“Will do, Mr. Grey. Ma’am. Your car’s waiting downstairs, sir. Oh, and the elevator’s out of order. You’ll
need to use the stairs.”
“Thank you, Joe.”
As we head for the emergency stairwell, I eye Anastasia’s high-heeled boots and remember her less-
than-dignified fall into my office.
“Good thing for you this is only three floors—in those heels.” I hide my smile.
“Don’t you like the boots?” she asks, looking down at her feet. A pleasing vision of them hooked over
my shoulders springs to mind.
“I like them very much, Anastasia.” I hope my expression doesn’t betray myscivious thoughts.
“Come. We’ll take it slow. I don’t want you falling and breaking your neck.” I’m thankful that the elevator
is out of order—it gives me a usible excuse to hold her. Putting my arm around her waist, I pull her
to my side and we descend the stairs.
In the car on the way to the gallery my anxiety doubles; we’re attending the opening of an exhibition by
her so-called friend. The man who,st time I saw him, was trying to push his tongue into her mouth.
Perhaps over thest few days they’ve talked. Perhaps this is a long-anticipated rendezvous between
them.
Hell, I hadn’t considered that before. I sure hope it’s not.
“José is just a friend,” Ana exins.
What? She knows what I’m thinking? Am I that obvious? Since when?
Since she stripped me of all my armor and I discovered that I needed her.
She stares at me and my stomach tightens. “Those beautiful eyes look toorge in your face,
Anastasia. Please tell me you’ll eat.”
“Yes, Christian, I’ll eat.” She sounds less than sincere.
“I mean it.”
“Do you, now?” Her voice isced with sarcasm, and I almost have to sit on my hands.
Fuck this.
It’s time to dere myself.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Anastasia. I want you back, and I want you healthy.” I’m honored with her
shocked, all-eyes look.
“But nothing’s changed.” Her expression shifts to a frown.
Oh, Ana, it has—there’s been a seismic shift in me.
We pull up at the gallery and I have no time to exin before the show. “Let’s talk on the way back.
We’re here.”
Before she can say she’s not interested, I exit the car, walk around to her side, and open the door. She
looks mad as she climbs out.
“Why do you do that?” she exims, exasperated.
“Do what?” Shit—what’s this?
“Say something like that and then just stop.”
That’s it—that’s why you’re mad?
“Anastasia, we’re here. Where you want to be. Let’s do this and then talk. I don’t particrly want a
scene in the street.”