Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

friend’s show, and I’m sure you’ve not had time to purchase a car, and it’s a long drive. I would be more than happy to take you—should you wish.
    Let me know.

    Christian Grey
    CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    Tears swim in my eyes. I hastily leave my desk and bolt to the restroom to escape into one of the stalls. José’s show. Crap. I’d forgotten all about it, and I promised him I’d go. Shit, Christian is right; how am I going to get there?  
    I clutch my forehead. Why hasn’t José phoned? Come to think of it—why hasn’t anyone phoned? I’ve been so absentminded, I haven’t noticed that my cell phone has been silent.  
    Shit! I am such an idiot! I still have it on divert to the Blackberry. Holy hell. Christian’s been getting my calls—unless he’s just thrown the Blackberry away. How did he get my e-mail address?
    He knows my shoe size, an e-mail address is hardly going to present him with many problems.
    Can I see him again? Could I bear it? Do I want to see him? I close my eyes and tilt my head back as grief and longing lance through me. Of course I do.  
    Perhaps, perhaps I can tell him I’ve changed my mind . . . No, no, no. I cannot be with someone who takes pleasure in inflicting pain on me, someone who can’t love me.  
    Torturous memories flash through my mind—the gliding, holding hands, kissing, the bathtub, his gentleness, his humor, and his dark, brooding, sexy stare. I miss him. It’s been five days, five days of agony that has felt like an eternity.  
    I wrap my arms around my body, hugging myself tightly, holding myself together. I miss him. I really miss him . . . I love him. Simple.  
    I cry myself to sleep at night, wishing I hadn’t walked out, wishing that he could be different, wishing that we were together. How long will this hideous overwhelming feeling last? I am in purgatory.
    Anastasia Steele, you are at work ! I must be strong, but I want to go to José’s show, and deep down, the masochist in me wants to see Christian. Taking a deep breath, I head back to my desk.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Tomorrow
    Date: June 8, 2011 14:25
    To: Christian Grey

    Hi Christian
    Thank you for the flowers; they are lovely.
    Yes, I would appreciate a lift.
    Thank you.

    Anastasia Steele
    Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

    Checking my phone, I find that it is still switched to divert. Jack is in a meeting, so I quickly call José.
    “Hi, José. It’s Ana.”
    “Hello, stranger.” His tone is so warm and welcoming it’s almost enough to push me over the edge again.
    “I can’t talk long. What time should I be there tomorrow for your show?”
    “You’re still coming?” He sounds excited.
    “Yes, of course.” I smile my first genuine smile in five days as I picture his broad grin.
    “Seven thirty.”
    “See you then. Good-bye, José.”
    “Bye, Ana.”

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Tomorrow
    Date: June 8, 2011 14:27
    To: Anastasia Steele

    Dear Anastasia
    What time shall I collect you?

    Christian Grey
    CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Tomorrow
    Date: June 8, 2011 14:32
    To: Christian Grey

    José’s show starts at 7:30. What time would you suggest?

    Anastasia Steele
    Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

    From: Christian Grey
    Subject: Tomorrow
    Date: June 8, 2011 14:34
    To: Anastasia Steele

    Dear Anastasia
    Portland is some distance away. I shall collect you at 5:45.
    I look forward to seeing you.

    Christian Grey
    CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

    From: Anastasia Steele
    Subject: Tomorrow
    Date: June 8, 2011 14:38
    To: Christian Grey

    See you then.

    Anastasia Steele
    Assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor, SIP

    Oh my. I’m going to see Christian, and for the first time in five days, my spirits lift a fraction and I allow myself to wonder how he’s been.  
    Has he missed me? Probably not like I’ve missed him. Has he found a new submissive from wherever they come from? The thought is so painful that I dismiss it immediately. I look at the pile of correspondence I need to sort for Jack and tackle it as I try to push Christian out of my mind once more.
    That night in bed, I toss and turn, trying to sleep. It is the first time in a while I haven’t cried myself to sleep.  
    In my mind’s eye, I visualize Christian’s face the last time I saw him as I left his apartment. His tortured expression haunts me. I remember he didn’t want me to go, which