Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

melt over the phone?
    “Christian, Jack has asked me to get his lunch.”
    “Lazy bastard,” Christian gripes.
    I ignore him and continue. “So I’m going to get it. It might be handy if you gave me Sawyer’s number, so I don’t have to bother you.”
    “It’s no bother, baby.”
    “Are you on your own?”
    “No. There are six people staring at me at the moment wondering who the hell I’m talking to.”
    Shit .  . . “Really?” I gasp, panicked.
    “Yes. Really. My girlfriend,” he announces away from the phone.
    Holy cow ! “They probably all thought you were gay, you know.”
    He laughs. “Yeah, probably.” I hear his grin.
    “Er—I’d better go.” I am sure he can tell how embarrassed I am to be interrupting him.
    “I’ll let Sawyer know.” He laughs again. “Have you heard from your friend?”
    “Not yet. You’ll be the first to know, Mr. Grey.”
    “Good. Laters, baby.”
    “Bye, Christian.” I grin. Every time he says that, it makes me smile . . . so un-Fifty, but somehow so him, too.

    When I exit moments later, Sawyer is waiting on the doorstep of the building.
    “Miss Steele,” he greets me formally.
    “Sawyer.” I nod in response and together we head down to the deli.
    I don’t feel as comfortable with Sawyer as I do with Taylor. He continually scans the street as we make our way along the block. It actually makes me more nervous, and I find myself mirroring his actions.  
    Is Leila out there? Or are we all infected by Christian’s paranoia? Is this part of his fifty shades? What I’d give for half an hour of candid discussion with Dr. Flynn, to find out.
    There’s nothing amiss, just lunchtime Seattle—people rushing for lunch, shopping, meeting friends. I watch two young women hug as they meet up.  
    I miss Kate. It’s only been two weeks since she left for her vacation, but it feels like the longest two weeks of my life. So much has happened—she’ll never believe me when I tell her. Well, tell her the edited NDA-compliant version. I frown. I’ll have to talk to Christian about that. What would Kate make of it? I blanch at the thought. Perhaps she’ll be back with Ethan. I feel a rush of excitement at the thought, but I think it’s unlikely. She’d stay on with Elliot surely.
    “Where do you stand when you’re waiting and watching outside?” I ask Sawyer as we get in line for lunch. Sawyer is in front of me, facing the door, continually monitoring the street and anyone who comes in. It’s unnerving.
    “I sit in the coffee shop directly across the street, Miss Steele.”
    “Doesn’t it get very boring?”
    “Not to me, ma’am. It’s what I do,” he says stiffly.
    I flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply . . .” My voice trails off at his kind, understanding expression.
    “Please, Miss Steele. My job is to protect you. And that’s what I’ll do.”
    “So, no sign of Leila?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    I frown. “How do you know what she looks like?”
    “I’ve seen her photograph.”
    “Oh, do you have it on you?”
    “No, ma’am.” He taps his skull. “Committed to memory.”
    Of course. I’d really like to examine a photograph of Leila to see what she looked like before she became Ghost Girl. I wonder if Christian would let me have a copy? Yes, he probably would—for my safety. I hatch a plan, and my subconscious gloats and nods approvingly.

    The brochures arrive back at the office, and I have to say, they look great. I take one into Jack’s office. His eyes light up, and I don’t know if it’s at me or the brochure. I choose to believe it’s the latter.
    “These look great, Ana.” Idly, he flicks through it. “Yeah, good job. Are you seeing your boyfriend this evening?” His lip curls as he says boyfriend .
    “Yes. We live together.” It’s sort of the truth. Well, we do at the moment. And I have officially agreed to move in, so it’s not much of a white lie. I hope that it’s enough to throw him off the scent.
    “Would he object to you coming out for a quick drink tonight? To celebrate all your hard work?”
    “I have a friend coming in from out of town tonight, and we’re all going out for dinner.” And I’ll be busy every night, Jack.
    “I see.” He sighs, exasperated. “Maybe when I’m back from New York, huh?” He raises his eyebrows in expectation, and his gaze darkens suggestively.
    Oh no . I smile, noncommittal, stifling a shudder.
    “Would you like some coffee or tea?” I