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“From when I was in the apartment.” She adds cautiously.
Oh hell . . . how could I forget that?
“Were you there often?”
“No. But he was very different with you.”
Do I want to hear this? A shudder runs through me. My scalp prickles as I recall my fear when she was the unseen shadow in our apartment.
“You know it’s against the law. Trespassing.”
She nods, gazing down at the table. She runs a fingernail along the edge. “It was only a few times, and I was lucky not to get caught. Again, I need to thank Mr.
Grey for that. He could have had me thrown in jail.”
“I don’t think he’d do that,” I murmur.
Suddenly there is a flurry of activity outside the meeting room, and instinctively I know that Christian is in the building. A moment later he bursts through the
door, and before he closes it, I catch Taylor’s eye as he stands patiently outside. Taylor’s mouth is set in a grim line, and he doesn’t return my tight smile. Oh hell,
even he’s mad at me.
Christian’s burning gray gaze pins first me then Leila to our chairs. His demeanor is quietly determined, but I know better, and I suspect Leila does, too. The
menacing cool glint in his eyes reveals the truth—he’s emanating rage, though he hides it well. In his gray suit, with his dark tie loosened and the top button of his
white shirt undone, he looks at once businesslike and casual . . . and hot. His hair is in disarray—no doubt because he’s been ru
exasperation.
Leila looks nervously down at the edge of the table, ru
“You,” he says to Prescott in a soft tone. “You’re fired. Get out now.”
I blanch. Oh no—this isn’t fair.
“Christian—” I make to stand up.
He holds his index finger up at me in warning. “Don’t,” he says. His voice so ominously quiet that I’m immediately silenced and rooted to my seat. Bowing her
head, Prescott walks briskly out of the room to join Taylor. Christian shuts the door behind her and walks to the edge of the table. Crap! Crap! Crap! That was my
fault. Christian stands opposite Leila, and placing both hands on the wooden surface, he leans forward.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growls at her.
“Christian!” I gasp. He ignores me.
“Well?” he demands.
Leila peeks up at him through long lashes, her eyes wide, her face ashen, her rosy glow gone.
“I wanted to see you, and you wouldn’t let me,” she whispers.
“So you came here to harass my wife?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet.
Leila looks down at the table again.
He stands, glowering at her. “Leila, if you come anywhere near my wife again, I will cut off all support. Doctors, art school, medical insurance—all of it—gone.
He stands, glowering at her. “Leila, if you come anywhere near my wife again, I will cut off all support. Doctors, art school, medical insurance—all of it—gone.
Do you understand?”
“Christian—” I try again. But he silences me with a chilling look. Why is he being so unreasonable? My compassion for this sad woman blooms.
“Yes,” she says, her voice just audible.
“What’s Susa
“She came with me.”
He runs a hand through his hair, glaring at her.
“Christian, please,” I beg him. “Leila just wants to say thank you. That’s all.”
He ignores me, concentrating his wrath on Leila. “Did you stay with Susa
“Yes.”
“Did she know what you were doing while you were staying with her?”
“No. She was away on vacation.”
He strokes his index finger over his lower lip. “Why do you need to see me? You know you should send any requests through Fly
His tone has softened, maybe by a fraction.
Leila runs her finger along the edge of the table again.
Stop bullying her, Christian!
“I had to know.” And for the first time she looks up directly at him.
“Had to know what?” he snaps.
“That you’re okay.”
He gapes at her. “That I’m okay?” he scoffs, disbelieving.
“Yes.”
“I’m fine. There, question answered. Now Taylor will run you to Sea-Tac so you can go back to the East Coast. And if you take one step west of the Mississippi,
it’s all gone. Understand?”
Holy fuck . . . Christian! I gape at him. What the fuck is eating him? He ca
“Yes. I understand,” Leila says quietly.
“Good.” Christian’s tone is more conciliatory.
“It might not be convenient for Leila to go back now. She has plans,” I object, outraged on her behalf.
Christian glares at me. “Anastasia,” he warns, his voice icy, “this does not concern you.”
I scowl at him. Of course it concerns me. She’s in my office. There must be more to this than I know. He’s not being rational.
Fifty Shades, my subconscious hisses at me.
“Leila came to see me, not you,” I murmur petulantly.
Leila turns to me, her eyes impossibly wide.
“I had my instructions, Mrs. Grey. I disobeyed them.” She glances nervously at my husband, then back at me.
“This is the Christian Grey I know,” she says, her tone sad and wistful. Christian frowns at her, while all the breath evaporates from my lungs. I can’t breathe.
Was Christian like this with her all the time? Was he like this with me, at first? I find it hard to remember. Giving me a forlorn smile, Leila rises from the table.
“I’d like to stay until tomorrow. My flight is at noon,” she says quietly to Christian.
“I’ll have someone collect you at ten to take you to the airport.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re at Susa
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I glare at Christian. He can’t dictate to her like this . . . and how does he know where Susa
“Good-bye, Mrs. Grey. Thank you for seeing me.”
I stand and hold out my hand. She takes it gratefully and we shake.
“Um . . . good-bye. Good luck,” I mutter, because I’m not sure what the protocol is for saying farewell to my husband’s ex-submissive.
She nods and turns to him. “Good-bye, Christian.”
Christian’s eyes soften a little. “Good-bye, Leila.” His is voice low. “Dr. Fly
“Yes, Sir.”
He opens the door to usher her out, but she halts in front of him and looks up. He stills, watching her warily.
“I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve to be,” she says and leaves before he can reply. He frowns after her, then nods to Taylor, who follows Leila toward the
reception area. Closing the door, Christian gazes uncertainly at me.
“Don’t even think about being angry with me,” I hiss. “Call Claude Bastille and kick the shit out of him or go see Fly
His mouth drops open; he’s so surprised by my outburst, and his brow creases once more.
“You promised you wouldn’t do this.” Now his tone is accusatory.
“Do what?”
“Defy me.”
“No I didn’t. I said I’d be more considerate. I told you she was here. I had Prescott search her, and your other little friend, too. Prescott was with me the entire
time. Now you’ve fired the poor woman, when she was only doing what I asked. I told you not to worry, yet here you are. I don’t remember receiving your papal
bull decreeing that I couldn’t see Leila. I didn’t know that my visitors were subject to a proscribed list.” My voice rises with indignation as I warm to my cause.
Christian regards me, his expression unreadable. After a moment his mouth twists.
“Papal bull?” he says, amused, and he visibly relaxes. I wasn’t aiming to lighten our conversation, yet here he is smirking at me, and that makes me madder. The
exchange between him and his ex was painful to witness. How could he be so cold with her?
“What?” he asks, exasperated, as my face remains resolutely straight.