“How was your weekend, Mrs. Grey?” Christian asks once we’re in the Audi heading back to Escala. Taylor and Ryan are up front.

“Good, thank you.” I smile, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“We can go anytime. Take anyone you wish to take.”

“We should take Ray. He’d like the fishing.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“How was it for you?” I ask.

“Good,” he says after a moment, surprised by my question, I think. “Real good.”

“You seemed to relax.”

He shrugs. “I knew you were safe.”

I frown. “Christian, I’m safe most of the time. I’ve told you before, you’ll keel over at forty if you keep up this level of anxiety. And I want to grow old and gray with you.” I grasp his hand. He looks at me as if he can’t comprehend what I’m saying. He gently kisses my knuckles and changes the subject.

“How’s your hand?”

“It’s better, thank you.”

He smiles. “Very good, Mrs. Grey. You ready to face Gia again?”

Oh crap. I’d forgotten we were seeing her this evening to go over the final plans. I roll my eyes. “I might want to keep you out of the way, keep you safe.” I smirk.

“Protecting me?” Christian is laughing at me.

“As ever, Mr. Grey. From all sexual predators,” I whisper.

Christian is brushing his teeth when I crawl into bed. Tomorrow we go back to reality—back to work, the paparazzi, and to Jack in custody but with the possibility that he has an accomplice. Hmm … Christian was vague about that. Does he know? And if he did know, would he tell me? I sigh. Getting information out of Christian is like pulling teeth, and we’ve had such a lovely weekend. Do I want to ruin the feel-good moment by trying to drag the information out of him?

It’s been a revelation to see him out of his normal environment, outside this apartment, relaxed and happy with his family. I wonder vaguely if it’s because we’re here in this apartment with all its memories and associations that he gets wound up. Maybe we should move.

I snort. We are moving—we’re having a huge house refurbished on the coast. Gia’s plans are complete and approved, and Elliot’s team starts building next week. I chuckle as I recall Gia’s shocked expression when I told her that I’d seen her in Aspen. Turns out it was nothing but coincidence. She’d camped out at her holiday place to work solely on our plans. For one awful moment I’d thought she’d had a hand in choosing the ring, but apparently not. But I still don’t trust Gia. I want to hear the same story from Elliot. At least she kept her distance from Christian this time.

I look out at the night sky. I will miss this view. This panoramic vista … Seattle at our feet, so full of possibilities, yet so far removed. Maybe that’s Christian’s problem—he’s been too isolated from real life for too long, thanks to his self-imposed exile. Yet with his family around him, he is less controlling, less anxious—freer, happier. I wonder what Flynn would make of all that. Holy crap! Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe he needs his own family. I shake my head in denial—we’re too young, too new to all this. Christian strides into the room, looking his usual gorgeous but pensive self.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He nods distractedly as he climbs into bed.

“I’m not looking forward to going back to reality,” I murmur.

“No?”

I shake my head and caress his lovely face. “I had a wonderful weekend. Thank you.”

He smiles softly. “You’re my reality, Ana,” he murmurs and kisses me.

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?” he asks, perplexed.

“You know. The caning … and stuff,” I whisper, embarrassed.

He stares at me, his gaze impassive. Then doubt crosses his face, his where-is-she-going-with-this look.

“No Anastasia, I don’t.” His voice is steady and quiet. He caresses my cheek. “Dr. Flynn said something to me when you left, something that’s stayed with me. He said I couldn’t be that way if you weren’t so inclined. It was a revelation.” He stops and frowns. “I didn’t know any other way, Ana. Now I do. It’s been educational.”

“Me, educate you?” I scoff.

His eyes soften. “Do you miss it?” he asks.

Oh! “I don’t want you to hurt me, but I like to play, Christian. You know that. If you wanted to do something …” I shrug, gazing at him.

“Something?”

“You know, with a flogger or your crop—” I stop, blushing.

He raises his brow, surprised. “Well … we’ll see. Right now, I’d like some good old-fashioned vanilla.” His thumb skirts my bottom lip, and he kisses me once more.

Oh yes. The American Shipbuilding Association dinner. I roll my eyes … More stuffed shirts. Christian really does take me to the most fascinating functions.

All the muscles in my belly clench. Hmm … I wonder what he’ll dream up. Hannah knocks on the door, interrupting my reverie.

“Ready to go through your schedule for this week, Ana?”

“Sure. Sit.” I smile, recovering my equilibrium, and minimize my e-mail program. “I’ve had to move a couple of appointments. Mr. Fox next week and Dr.—”

My phone rings, interrupting her. It’s Roach. He asks me up to his office.

“Can we pick this up in twenty minutes?”

“Of course.”

Hannah taps on my door, interrupting my erotic thoughts of the previous evening. Christian’s hands … his mouth.

“Come in.”

“Ana, Mr. Roach’s PA just called. He’d like you to attend a meeting this morning. It means I have to move some of your appointments again. Is that okay?”

His tongue.

“Sure. Yes,” I mutter, trying to halt my wayward thoughts. She grins and ducks out of my office … leaving me with my delicious memory of last night.

I scowl at his high-handed e-mail. Prescott isn’t that bad.

Oh my. Could he be any more romantic?

The following day, I gaze at the calendar on my desk. Only five days until September 10—my birthday. I know we are driving out to the house to see how Elliot and his crew are progressing. Hmm … I wonder if Christian has any other plans? I smile at the thought. Hannah taps on my door.

“Come in.”

Prescott is hovering outside. Odd …

“Hi, Ana,” says Hannah. “There’s a Leila Williams here to see you? She says it’s personal.”

“Leila Williams? I don’t know a …” My mouth goes dry, and Hannah’s eyes widen at my expression.

Leila? Fuck. What does she want?