Fifty Shades Trilogy 02 - Fifty Shades Darker

where I’m going.” Christian says.
    Taylor reaches into his jacket, pulls out his wallet, and hands Christian a credit card.
    “You might want to use this when you get there.”
    Christian nods. “Good thinking.”
    Ryan joins us. “Sawyer and Reynolds found nothing,” he says to Taylor.
    “Accompany Mr. Grey and Miss Steele to the garage,” Taylor orders.
    The garage is deserted. Well, it is nearly three in the morning. Christian ushers me into the passenger seat of the R8 and puts my case and his bag in the trunk at the front of the car. The Audi beside us is a complete mess—every tire slashed, white paint splattered all over it. It’s chilling and makes me grateful that Christian is taking me somewhere else.
    “A replacement will arrive on Monday,” Christian says bleakly when he’s seated beside me.
    “How could she have known it was my car?”
    He glances anxiously at me and sighs. “She had an Audi A3. I buy one for all my submissives—it’s one of the safest cars in its class.”
    Oh. “So, not so much a graduation present, then.”
    “Anastasia, despite what I hoped, you have never been my submissive, so technically it is a graduation present.” He pulls out of the parking space and speeds to the exit.
    Despite what he hoped. Oh no . . . my subconscious shakes her head sadly. This is what we come back to all the time.
    “Are you still hoping?” I whisper.
    The in-car phone buzzes. “Grey,” Christian snaps.
    “Fairmont Olympic. In my name.”
    “Thank you, Taylor. And, Taylor, be careful.”
    Taylor pauses. “Yes, sir,” he says quietly, and Christian hangs up.
    The streets of Seattle are deserted, and Christian roars up Fifth Avenue toward the I-5. Once on the interstate, he floors the gas pedal, heading north. He accelerates so quickly I’m momentarily thrown back in my seat.  
    I peek at him. He’s deep in thought, radiating a deadly brooding silence. He hasn’t answered my question. He glances frequently at the rearview mirror, and I realize he’s checking that we’re not being followed. Perhaps that’s why we’re on the I-5. I thought the Fairmont was in Seattle.  
    I gaze out of the window, trying to rationalize my exhausted, overactive mind. If she’d wanted to hurt me, she had ample opportunity in the bedroom.
    “No. It’s not what I hope for, not anymore. I thought that was obvious.” Christian interrupts my introspection, his voice soft.
    I blink at him, pulling his denim jacket tighter around me, and I don’t know if the chill is emanating from within me or from outside.
    “I worry that, you know . . . that I’m not enough.”
    “You’re more than enough. For the love of God, Anastasia, what do I have to do?”
    Tell me about yourself. Tell me you love me.
    “Why did you think I’d leave when I told you Dr. Flynn had told me all there was to know about you?”
    He sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a moment, and for the longest time he doesn’t answer. “You cannot begin to understand the depths of my depravity, Anastasia. And it’s not something I want to share with you.”
    “And you really think I’d leave, if I knew?” My voice is high, incredulous. Doesn’t he understand that I love him? “Do you think so little of me?”
    “I know you’ll leave,” he says sadly.
    “Christian . . . I think that’s very unlikely. I can’t imagine being without you.” Ever . . .
    “You left me once—I don’t want to go there again.”
    “Elena said she saw you last Saturday,” I whisper quietly.
    “She didn’t.” He frowns.
    “You didn’t go to see her, when I left?”
    “No,” he snaps, irritated. “I just told you I didn’t—and I don’t like to be doubted,” he scolds. “I didn’t go anywhere last weekend. I sat and made the glider you gave me. Took me forever,” he adds quietly.
    My heart clenches again. Mrs. Robinson said she saw him.  
    Did she or didn’t she? She’s lying. Why?
    “Contrary to what Elena thinks, I don’t rush to her with all my problems, Anastasia. I don’t rush to anybody. You may have noticed—I’m not much of a talker.” He tightens his hold on the steering wheel.
    “Carrick told me you didn’t talk for two years.”
    “Did he now?” Christian’s mouth presses into a hard line.
    “I kind of pumped him for information.” Embarrassed, I stare at my fingers.
    “So what else did Daddy say?”
    “He said your mom was the doctor who examined you when you were brought into the