Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

pocket. He gazes once more at Leila as she kneels compliantly beside the kitchen island.
    “Anastasia, go with Taylor,” he commands. Taylor crosses the threshold and stares at me.
    “Ethan,” I whisper.
    “Downstairs.” He responds matter-of-factly, his eyes never leaving Leila.
    Downstairs. Not here. Ethan’s okay. Relief floods hard and fast through my blood, and for a moment I think I’m going to faint.
    “Anastasia,” Christian’s tone is clipped in warning.  
    I blink at him, and I’m suddenly unable to move. I don’t want to leave him—leave him with her. He moves to stand beside Leila as she kneels at his feet. He’s hovering over her, protectively. She’s so still, it’s unnatural. I can’t take my eyes off the two of them—together . . .
    “For the love of God, Anastasia, will you do as you’re told for once in your life and go!” Christian’s eyes lock with mine as he glowers at me, his voice a blistering cold shard of ice. The anger beneath the quiet, deliberate delivery of his words is palpable.
    Angry at me? Surely not. Please—No! I feel like he’s slapped me hard. Why does he want to stay with her?
    “Taylor. Take Miss Steele downstairs. Now.”
    Taylor nods at him as I stare at Christian.
    “Why?” I whisper.
    “Go. Back to the apartment.” His eyes blaze frostily at me. “I need to be alone with Leila.” He says it urgently.
    I think he’s trying to convey some kind of message, but I’m so thrown by all that’s happened that I’m not sure. I glance down at Leila and notice a very small smile cross her lips, but otherwise she remains truly impassive. A complete submissive. Fuck ! My heart chills.
    This is what he needs. This is what he likes. No ! I want to wail.
    “Miss Steele. Ana.” Taylor holds his hand out to me, imploring me to come. I am immobilized by the horrific spectacle before me. It confirms my worst fears and plays on all my insecurities: Christian and Leila together—the Dom and his sub.
    “Taylor,” Christian urges, and Taylor leans down and scoops me into his arms. The last thing I see as we leave is Christian gently stroking Leila’s head as he murmurs something softly to her.
    No!
    As Taylor carries me down the stairs, I lie limply in his arms trying to grasp what’s happened in the last ten minutes—was it longer? Or shorter? The concept of time has deserted me.
    Christian and Leila, Leila and Christian . . . together? What is he doing with her now?
    “Jesus, Ana! What the fuck is going on?”  
    I am relieved to see Ethan as he paces the small lobby, still carrying his large shoulder bag. Oh, thank heavens he’s okay ! When Taylor sets me down, I practically throw myself at Ethan, wrapping my arms around his neck.  
    “Ethan. Oh, thank God!” I hug him, holding him close. I was so worried, and for a brief moment, I enjoy some respite from my rising panic at what is unfolding upstairs in my apartment.
    “What the fuck is going on, Ana? Who’s this guy?”
    “Oh, sorry, Ethan, this is Taylor. He works with Christian. Taylor, this is Ethan, my roommate’s brother.”
    They nod at each other.
    “Ana, upstairs, what’s going on? I was fishing for the apartment keys when these guys jumped out of nowhere and grabbed them. One of them was Christian . . .” Ethan’s voice trails off.
    “You were late . . . Thank God.”
    “Yeah. I met a friend from Pullman—we had a quick drink. Upstairs, what’s going on?”
    “There’s a girl, an ex of Christian’s. In our apartment. She’s gone postal, and Christian is . . .” My voice cracks, and tears pool in my eyes.
    “Hey,” Ethan whispers and pulls me close once more. “Has anyone called the cops?”
    “No, it’s not like that.” I sob into his chest and now I’ve started, I can’t stop crying, the tension of this latest episode releasing through my tears. Ethan tightens his arms around me, but I sense his bemusement.
    “Hey, Ana, let’s go get a drink.” He pats my back awkwardly. Abruptly, I feel awkward, too, and embarrassed, and in all honesty, I want to be on my own. But I nod, accepting his offer. I want to be away from here, away from whatever’s going on upstairs.
    I turn to Taylor.
    “Was the apartment checked?” I ask him tearfully, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.
    “This afternoon.” Taylor shrugs apologetically as he hands me a handkerchief. He looks devastated. “I’m sorry, Ana,” he murmurs.
    I frown. Jeez, he looks