“Hey—it was just a bad dream.” Reaching up, I clasp his head in my hands. His eyes burn into mine and the anguish in them is sobering. “I’m here and I’m cold without you in bed. Come back to bed, please.” I take his hand and stand, waiting to see if he’ll follow me. Finally he stands, too. He’s wearing his pajama bottoms, and they hang in that way he has, and I want to run my fingers along the inside of his waistband, but I resist and lead him back to the bedroom.
WHEN I WAKE HE’S curled around me, sleeping peacefully. I relax and enjoy his enveloping heat, his skin on my skin. I lie very still, not wanting to disturb him.
Boy, what an evening. I feel like I’ve been run over by a train—the freight train that is my husband. Hard to believe that the man lying beside me, looking so serene and young in his sleep, was so tortured last night … and so tortured me last night. I gaze up at the ceiling, and it occurs to me that I always think of Christian as strong and dominating—yet the reality is he’s so fragile, my lost boy. And the irony is that he looks upon me as fragile—and I don’t think I am. Compared to him I’m strong.
But am I strong enough for both of us? Strong enough to do what I’m told and give him some peace of mind? I sigh. He’s not asking that much of me. I flit through our conversation of last night. Did we decide anything other than to both try harder? The bottom line is that I love this man, and I need to chart a course for both of us. One that lets me keep my integrity and independence but still be more for him. I am his more, and he is mine. I resolve to make a special effort this weekend not to give him cause for concern.
Christian stirs and lifts his head off my chest, looking sleepily at me.
“Good morning, Mr. Grey.” I smile.
“Good morning, Mrs. Grey. Did you sleep well?” He stretches out beside me.
“Once my husband stopped making that terrible racket on the piano, yes, I did.”
He smiles his shy smile, and I melt. “Terrible racket? I’ll be sure to e-mail Miss Kathie and let her know.”
“Miss Kathie?”
“My piano teacher.”
I giggle.
“That’s a lovely sound,” he says. “Shall we have a better day today?”
“Okay,” I agree. “What do you want to do?”
“After I have made love to my wife, and she’s cooked me breakfast, I’d like to take her to Aspen.”
I gape at him. “Aspen?”
“Yes.”
“Aspen, Colorado?”
“The very same. Unless they’ve moved it. After all, you did pay twenty-four thousand dollars for the experience.”
I grin at him. “That was your money.”
“Our money.”
“It was your money when I made the bid.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, Mrs. Grey, you and your eye rolling,” he whispers as he runs his hand up my thigh.
“Won’t it take hours to get to Colorado?” I ask to distract him.
“Not by jet,” he says silkily as his hand reaches my behind.
Of course, my husband has a jet. How could I forget? His hand continues to skim up my body, lifting my nightdress as it goes, and soon I’ve forgotten everything.
TAYLOR DRIVES US ONTO the tarmac at Sea-Tac and around to where the GEH jet is waiting. It’s a gray day in Seattle, but I refuse to let the weather dampen my soaring spirits. Christian is in a much better mood. He’s excited about something—lit up like Christmas and twitching like a small boy with a big secret. I wonder what scheme he’s concocted. He looks dreamy, all tousled hair, white T-shirt, and black jeans. Not CEO-like at all today. He takes my hand as Taylor glides to a stop at the foot of the jet steps.
“I have a surprise for you,” he murmurs and kisses my knuckles.
I grin at him. “Good surprise?”
“I hope so.” He smiles warmly.
Hmm … what can it be?
Sawyer leaps out from the front and opens my door. Taylor opens Christian’s, then retrieves our cases from the trunk. Stephan is waiting at the top of the stairs when we enter the aircraft. I glance into the cockpit and see First Officer Beighley flipping switches on the imposing instrument panel.
Christian and Stephan shake hands. “Good morning, sir.” Stephan smiles.
“Thanks for doing this on such short notice.” Christian grins back at him. “Our guests here?”
“Yes, sir.”
Guests? I turn and gasp. Kate, Elliot, Mia, and Ethan are all smiling and sitting in the cream-colored leather seats. Wow! I spin around to Christian.
“Surprise!” he says.
“How? When? Who?” I mumble inarticulately, trying to contain my delight and elation.
“You said you didn’t see enough of your friends.” He shrugs and gives me a lopsided, apologetic smile.
“Oh, Christian, thank you.” I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him hard in front of everyone. He puts his hands on my hips, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of my jeans, and deepens the kiss.
Oh my.
“Keep this up and I’ll drag you into the bedroom,” he murmurs.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I whisper against his lips.
“Oh, Anastasia.” He grins, shaking his head. He releases me and without further preamble, stoops down, grabs my thighs, and lifts me over his shoulder.
“Christian, put me down!” I smack his behind.
I briefly catch Stephan’s smile as he turns and heads into the cockpit. Taylor is standing at the doorway, trying to stifle his grin. Ignoring my pleas and my futile struggles, Christian strides through the narrow cabin past Mia and Ethan, who are facing each other in the single seats, and past Kate and Elliot, who is whooping like a demented gibbon.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he says to our four guests. “I need to have a word with my wife in private.”
“Christian!” I shout. “Put me down!”
“All in good time, baby.”
I have a brief view of Mia, Kate, and Elliot laughing. Damn it! This is not funny, it’s embarrassing. Ethan gawks at us, mouth open and utterly shocked, as we disappear into the cabin.
Christian closes the cabin door behind him and releases me, letting me slide down his body slowly, so that I feel every hard sinew and muscle. He gives me his boyish grin, thoroughly pleased with himself.
“That was quite a show, Mr. Grey.” I cross my arms and regard him with faux indignation.
“That was fun, Mrs. Grey.” And his grin widens. Oh boy. He looks so young.
“Are you going to follow through?” I arch a brow, unsure how I feel about this. I mean, the others will hear us, for heaven’s sake. Suddenly, I feel shy. Glancing anxiously at the bed, I feel a blush steal across my cheeks as I recall our wedding night. We talked so much yesterday, did so much yesterday. I feel as if we leaped some unknown hurdle—but that’s the problem. It’s unknown. My eyes find Christian’s intense but amused gaze, and I’m unable to keep a straight face. His grin is too infectious.
“I think it might be rude to keep our guests waiting,” he says silkily as he steps toward me. When did he start to care what people think? I step back against the cabin wall and he imprisons me, the heat from his body holding me in place. He leans down and runs his nose along mine.
“Good surprise?” he whispers, and there’s a hint of anxiety in his voice.
“Oh, Christian, fantastic surprise.” I run my hands up his chest, curl them around his neck, and kiss him.
“When did you organize this?” I ask when I pull away from him, stroking his hair.
“Last night, when I couldn’t sleep. I e-mailed Elliot and Mia, and here they are.”
“It’s very thoughtful. Thank you. I’m sure we’ll have a great time.”
“I hope so. I thought it would be easier to avoid the press in Aspen than at home.”
The paparazzi! He’s right. If we’d stayed in Escala, we’d have been imprisoned. A shiver runs down my spine as I recollect the snapping cameras and dazzling flashes of the few photographers Taylor sped through this morning.
“Come. We’d better take our seats—Stephan will be taking off shortly.” He offers me his hand and together we walk back into the cabin.
Elliot cheers as we enter. “That sure was speedy in-flight service!” he calls mockingly.
Christian ignores him.
“Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen, as we’ll shortly begin taxiing for takeoff.” Stephan’s voice echoes calmly and authoritatively around the cabin. The brunette woman—um … Natalie?—who was on the flight for our wedding night appears from the galley and gathers up the discarded coffee cups. Natalia … Her name’s Natalia.
“Good morning Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey,” she says with a purr. Why does she make me uncomfortable? Maybe it’s that she’s a brunette. By his own admission, Christian doesn’t usually employ brunettes because he finds them attractive. He gives Natalia a polite smile as he slides in behind the table and sits down facing Elliot and Kate. I swiftly hug Kate and Mia and give Ethan and Elliot a wave before sitting down and buckling up beside Christian. He puts his hand on my knee and gives it an affectionate squeeze. He seems relaxed and happy, even though we’re with company. Idly, I wonder why he can’t always be like this—not controlling at all.
“Hope you packed your hiking boots,” he says, his voice warm.
“We’re not going skiing?”
“That would be a challenge, in August,” he says, amused.
Oh, of course.
“Do you ski, Ana?” Elliot interrupts us.
“No.”
Christian moves his hand from my knee to clasp my hand.
“I’m sure my little brother can teach you.” Elliot winks at me. “He’s pretty fast on the slopes, too.”
And I can’t help my blush. When I glance up at Christian, he’s gazing impassively at Elliot, but I think he’s trying to suppress his mirth. The plane surges forward and starts taxiing toward the runway.
Natalia runs through the plane’s safety procedures in a clear, ringing voice. She’s dressed in a neat navy short-sleeved shirt and matching pencil skirt. Her makeup is immaculate—she really is quite pretty. My subconscious raises a plucked-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life eyebrow at me.
“You okay?” Kate asks me pointedly. “I mean, following the Hyde business?”
I nod. I don’t want to think or talk about Hyde, but Kate seems to have other plans.
“So why did he go postal?” she asks, cutting to the heart of the matter in her inimitable style. She tosses her hair behind her as she prepares to investigate further.
Eyeing her coolly, Christian shrugs. “I fired his ass,” he says bluntly.
“Oh? Why?” Kate tilts her head to one side, and I know she’s in full Nancy Drew mode.
“He made a pass at me,” I mutter. I try to kick Kate’s ankle beneath the table and miss. Shit!
“When?” Kate glares at me.
“Ages ago.”
“You never told me he made a pass at you!” she splutters.
I shrug apologetically.
“It can’t just be a grudge about that, surely. I mean his reaction is way too extreme,” Kate continues, but now she directs her questions at Christian. “Is he mentally unstable? What about all the information he has on you Greys?” Her grilling Christian this way makes my hackles rise, but she’s already established that I know nothing, so she can’t ask me. The thought is annoying.
“We think there’s a connection with Detroit,” Christian says mildly. Too mildly. Oh no, Kate, please give it up for now.
“Hyde is from Detroit, too?”
Christian nods.
The plane accelerates, and I tighten my grip on Christian’s hand. He glances at me reassuringly. He knows I hate takeoffs and landings. He squeezes my hand and his thumb strokes my knuckles, calming me.
“What do you know about him?” Elliot asks, oblivious to the fact that we are hurtling down the runway in a small jet about to launch itself into the sky, and equally oblivious to Christian’s growing exasperation with Kate. Kate leans forward, listening attentively.
“This is off the record,” Christian says directly to her. Kate’s mouth sets in a subtle but thin line. I swallow. Oh shit.
“We know a little about him,” Christian continues. “His dad died in a brawl in a bar. His mother drank herself into oblivion. He was in and out of foster homes as a kid … in and out of trouble, too. Mainly boosting cars. Spent time in juvie. His mom got back on track through some outreach program, and Hyde turned himself around. Won a scholarship to Princeton.”
“Princeton?” Kate’s curiosity is piqued.
“Yep. He’s a bright boy.” Christian shrugs.
“Not that bright. He got caught,” Elliot mutters.
“But surely he can’t have pulled this stunt alone?” Kate asks.
Christian stiffens beside me. “We don’t know yet.” His voice is very quiet. Holy crap. There could be someone working with him? I turn and gape in horror at Christian. He squeezes my hand once more but doesn’t look me in the eye. The plane lifts smoothly into the air, and I get that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach.
“How old is he?” I ask Christian, leaning close so only he can hear. Much as I’d like to know what’s going on, I don’t want to encourage Kate’s questions. I know they’re irritating Christian, and I’m sure she’s on his shit list since Cocktailgate.
“Thirty-two. Why?”
“Curious, that’s all.”
Christian’s jaw tightens. “Don’t be curious about Hyde. I’m just glad the fucker’s locked up.” It’s almost a reprimand, but I choose to ignore his tone.
“Do you think he’s working with someone?” The thought that someone else might be involved makes me sick. It would mean this isn’t over.
“I don’t know,” Christian answers, and his jaw tightens once more.
“Maybe someone who has a grudge against you?” I suggest. Holy shit. I hope it’s not the bitch troll. “Like Elena?” I whisper. I realize I’ve muttered her name out loud, but only he can hear. I glance anxiously at Kate, but she’s deep in conversation with Elliot, who looks pissed at her. Hmm.
“You do like to demonize her, don’t you?” Christian rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disgust. “She may hold a grudge, but she wouldn’t do this kind of thing.” He pins me with a steady gray gaze. “Let’s not discuss her. I know she’s not your favorite topic of conversation.”
“Have you confronted her?” I whisper, not sure if I really want to know.
“Ana, I haven’t spoken to her since my birthday party. Please, drop it. I don’t want to talk about her.” He raises my hand and brushes my knuckles with his lips. His eyes burn into mine, and I know I shouldn’t pursue this line of questioning right now.
“Get a room,” Elliot teases. “Oh right—you already have, but you didn’t need it for long.”
Christian glances up and pins Elliot with a cool glare. “Fuck off, Elliot,” he says without malice.
“Dude, just telling you how it is.” Elliot’s eyes light up with mirth.
“Like you’d know,” Christian murmurs sardonically, raising an eyebrow.
Elliot grins, enjoying the banter. “You married your first girlfriend.” Elliot gestures at me.
Oh shit. Where is this going? I flush.
“Can you blame me?” Christian kisses my hand again.
“No.” Elliot laughs and shakes his head.
I flush, and Kate slaps Elliot’s thigh.
“Stop being an ass,” she scolds him.
“Listen to your girlfriend,” Christian says to Elliot, grinning, and his earlier concern seems to have disappeared. My ears pop as we gain altitude, and the tension in the cabin dissipates as the plane levels out. Kate scowls at Elliot. Hmm … is something up between them? I’m not sure.
Elliot is right. I snort at the irony. I am—was—Christian’s first girlfriend, and now I’m his wife. The fifteen and the evil Mrs. Robinson—they don’t count. But then Elliot doesn’t know about them, and clearly Kate hasn’t told him. I smile at her, and she gives me a conspiratorial wink. My secrets are safe with Kate.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be cruising at an altitude of approximately thirty-two thousand feet, and our estimated flight time is one hour and fifty-six minutes,” Stephan announces. “You are now free to move around the cabin.”
Natalia appears abruptly from the galley.
“May I offer anyone coffee?” she asks.