Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

round the great room. The Bach Marcello piece— oh no, that’s way too sad for my mood right now. Hmm. Jeff Buckley— yeah, I’ve heard of him . Snow Patrol—my favorite band—and a song called “Principles of Lust” by Enigma. How Christian . I smirk. Another called “Possession” . . . oh yes, very Fifty Shades . And a few more I have never heard.
    Selecting a song that catches my eye, I press play. It’s called “Try” by Nellie Furtado. She starts to sing, and her voice is a silken scarf wrapping around me, enveloping me. I lie down on my bed.  
    Does this mean Christian’s going to try? Try this new relationship? I drink in the lyrics, staring at the ceiling, trying to understand his turnaround. He missed me. I missed him. He must have some feelings for me. He must. This iPad, these songs, these apps—he cares. He really cares. My heart swells with hope.
    The song ends and tears spring to my eyes. I quickly scroll to another—“The Scientist” by Coldplay—one of Kate’s favorite bands. I know the track, but I’ve never really listened to the lyrics before. I close my eyes and let the words wash over and through me.
    My tears start to flow. I can’t stem them. If this isn’t an apology, what is it? Oh, Christian .  
    Or is this an invitation? Will he answer my questions? Am I reading too much into this? I am probably reading too much into this. My subconscious nods at me, trying to hide her pity.
    I dash my tears away. I have to e-mail him to thank him. I leap off my bed to fetch the mean machine.
    Coldplay continues as I sit cross-legged on my bed. The Mac powers up and I log in.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: IPAD
    Date: June 9, 2011 23:56
    To: Christian Grey

    You’ve made me cry again.
    I love the iPad.
    I love the songs.
    I love the British Library App.
    I love you.
    Thank you.
    Goodnight.

    Ana xx

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: iPad
    Date: June 10, 2011 00:03
    To: Anastasia Steele

    I’m glad you like it. I bought one for myself.
    Now, if I were there, I would kiss away your tears.
    But I’m not—so go to sleep.

    Christian Grey
    CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    His response makes me smile, still so bossy, still so Christian. Will that change, too? And I realize in that moment that I hope not. I like him like this—commanding—as long as I can stand up to him without fear of punishment.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Mr. Grumpy
    Date: June 10, 2011 00:07
    To: Christian Grey

    You sound your usual bossy and possibly tense, possibly grumpy self, Mr. Grey.
    I know something that could ease that. But then, you’re not here—you wouldn’t let me stay, and you expect me to beg . . .
    Dream on, Sir.

    Ana xx

    PS: I also note that you included the Stalker’s Anthem, “Every Breath You Take.” I do enjoy your sense of humor, but does Dr. Flynn know?

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Zen-Like Calm
    Date: June 10, 2011 00.10
    To: Anastasia Steele

    My Dearest Miss Steele
    Spanking occurs in vanilla relationships, too, you know. Usually consensually and in a sexual context . . . but I am more than happy to make an exception.
    You’ll be relieved to know that Dr. Flynn also enjoys my sense of humor.
    Now, please go to sleep as you won’t get much tomorrow.
    Incidentally—you will beg, trust me. And I look forward to it.

    Christian Grey
    Tense CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Goodnight, Sweet Dreams
    Date: June 10, 2011 00:12
    To: Christian Grey

    Well, since you ask so nicely, and I like your delicious threat, I shall curl up with the iPad that you have so kindly given me and fall asleep browsing in the British Library, listening to the music that says it for you.
    A xxx

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: One more request
    Date: June 10, 2011 00:15
    To: Anastasia Steele

    Dream of me.
    x

    Christian Grey
    CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    Dream of you, Christian Grey? Always.
    I change quickly into my pajamas, brush my teeth, and slip into bed. Putting my ear buds in, I pull the flattened Charlie Tango balloon from underneath my pillow and hug it to me.  
    I am brimming with joy, a stupid, widemouthed grin on my face. What a difference a day can make. How am I ever going to sleep?  
    José Gonzalez starts to sing a soothing melody with a hypnotic guitar riff, and I drift slowly into sleep, marveling how the world has righted itself in one evening and wondering idly if I should make a playlist for Christian.

The