"What if you leave me?" The thought is horrifc.

"I'm not going anywhere. I don't think I could ever have my fll of you, Anastasia."

I turn and gaze at him. His expression is serious, sincere. I lean over and kiss him gen- tly. He smiles and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear.

"I've never felt the way I felt when you left, Anastasia. I would move heaven and earth to avoid feeling like that again." He sounds so sad, dazed even.

I kiss him again. I want to lighten our mood somehow, but Christian does it for me.

"Will you come with me to my father's summer party tomorrow? It's an annual charity thing. I said I'd go."

I smile, feeling suddenly shy.

"Of course I'll come." Oh s.h.i.t. I have nothing to wear.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me," he insists.

"I have nothing to wear."

Christian looks momentarily uncomfortable.

"Don't be mad, but I still have all those clothes for you at home. I am sure there are a couple of dresses in there."

I purse my lips. "Do you, now?" I mutter, my voice sardonic. I don't want to fght with him tonight. I need a shower.The girl who looks like me is standing outside SIP. Hang on-she is me. I am pale and un- washed, and all my clothes are too big; I'm staring at her, and she's wearing my clothes- happy, healthy.

"What do you have that I don't?" I ask her.

"Who are you?"

"I'm n.o.body ... Who are you? Are you n.o.body, too ... ?"

"Then there's a pair of us-don't tell, they'd banish us, you know ..."1 She smiles, a slow, evil grimace that spreads across her face, and it's so chilling that I start to scream.

"Jesus, Ana!" Christian is shaking me awake.

I am so disorientated. I'm at home ... in the dark ... in bed with Christian. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind.

"Baby, are you okay? You were having a bad dream."

"Oh."

He switches on the lamp so we're bathed in its dim light. He gazes down at me, his face etched with concern.

"The girl," I whisper.

"What is it? What girl?" he asks soothingly.

"There was a girl outside SIP when I left this evening. She looked like me ... but not really."

Christian stills, and as the light from the bedside lamp warms up, I see his face is ashen.

"When was this?" he whispers, dismayed. He sits up, staring down at me.

"When I left this afternoon. Do you know who she is?"

"Yes." He runs a hand through his hair.

"Who?"

His mouth presses into a hard line, but he says nothing.

"Who?" I press.

"It's Leila."

I swallow. The ex-sub! I remember Christian talking about her before we went gliding.

Suddenly, he's radiating tension. Something is going on.

"The girl who put 'Toxic' on your iPod?"

He glances at me anxiously.

"Yes," he says. "Did she say anything?"

"She said, 'what do you have that I don't have?' and when I asked who she was, she said, 'n.o.body.' "

Christian closes his eyes as if in pain. Oh no. What's happened? What does she mean to him?

My scalp p.r.i.c.kles as adrenaline spikes through my body. What if she means a lot to him? Perhaps he misses her? I know so little about his past ... um, relationships. She must have had a contract, and she would have done what he wanted, given him what he needed gladly.

1 Emily d.i.c.kinson, "I'm n.o.body! Who are you?" frst stanza .Oh no-when I can't. The thought makes me nauseous.

Climbing out of bed, Christian drags on his jeans and heads into the main room. A glance at my alarm clock shows it's fve in the morning. I roll out of bed, putting his white shirt on, and follow him.

Holy s.h.i.t, he's on the phone.

"Yes, outside SIP, yesterday . . . early evening," he says quietly. He turns to me as I move toward the kitchen and asks me directly, "What time exactly?"

"About ten to six?" I mumble. Who on earth is he calling at this hour? What's Leila done? He relays the information to whoever's on the line, not taking his eyes off me, his expression dark and earnest.

"Find out how ... Yes ... I wouldn't have said so, but then I wouldn't have thought she could do this." He closes his eyes as if he's in pain. "I don't know how that will go down ... Yes, I'll talk to her ... Yes ... I know ... Follow it up and let me know. Just fnd her, Welch-she's in trouble. Find her." He hangs up.

"Do you want some tea?" I ask. Tea, Ray's answer to every crisis and the only thing he does well in the kitchen. I fll the kettle with water.

"Actually, I'd like to go back to bed." His look tells me that it's not to sleep.

"Well, I need some tea. Would you like to join me for a cup?" I want to know what's going on. I will not be sidetracked by s.e.x.

He runs his hand through his hair in exasperation. "Yes, please," he says, but I can tell he's irritated.

I put the kettle on the stove and busy myself with teacups and the teapot. My anxiety level has shot to defcon one. Is he going to tell me the problem? Or am I going to have to dig?

I sense his eyes on me-sense his uncertainty, and his anger is palpable. I glance up, and his eyes glitter with apprehension.

"What is it?" I ask softly.

He shakes his head.

"You're not going to tell me?"

He sighs and closes his eyes. "No."

"Why?"

"Because it shouldn't concern you. I don't want you tangled up in this."

"It shouldn't concern me, but it does. She found me and accosted me outside my offce.

How does she know about me? How does she know where I work? I think I have a right to know what's going on."

He runs a hand through his hair again, radiating frustration as if waging some internal battle.

"Please?" I ask softly.

His mouth sets into a hard line, and he rolls his eyes at me.

"Okay," he says, resigned. "I have no idea how she found you. Maybe the photograph of us in Portland, I don't know." He sighs again, and I sense his frustration is directed at himself.

I wait patiently, pouring boiling water into the teapot as he paces back and forth. After a beat he continues."While I was with you in Georgia, Leila turned up at my apartment unannounced and made a scene in front of Gail."

"Gail?"

"Mrs. Jones."

"What do you mean, 'made a scene'?"

He glares at me, appraising.

"Tell me. You're keeping something back." My tone is more forceful than I feel.

He blinks at me, surprised. "Ana, I-" he stops.

"Please?"

He sighs in defeat. "She made a haphazard attempt to open a vein."

"Oh no!" That explains the bandage on her wrist.

"Gail got her to hospital. But Leila discharged herself before I could get there."

c.r.a.p. What does this mean? Suicidal? Why?

"The shrink who saw her called it a typical cry for help. He didn't believe her to be truly at risk-one step from suicidal ideation, he called it. But I'm not convinced. I've been trying to track her down since then to get her some help."

"Did she say anything to Mrs. Jones?"

He gazes at me. He looks really uncomfortable.

"Not much," he says eventually, but I know he's not telling me everything.

I distract myself with pouring tea into teacups. So Leila wants back into Christian's life and chooses a suicide attempt to attract his attention? Whoa ... scary. But effective.

Christian left Georgia to be at her side, but she disappears before he gets there? How odd.

"You can't fnd her? What about her family?"

"They don't know where she is. Neither does her husband."

"Husband?"

"Yes," he says distractedly, "she's been married for about two years."

What? "So she was with you while she was married?" Holy f.u.c.k. He really has no boundaries.

"No! Good G.o.d, no. She was with me nearly three years ago. Then she left and married this guy shortly afterward."

Oh. "So why is she trying to get your attention now?"

He shakes his head sadly. "I don't know. All we've managed to fnd out is that she ran out on her husband about four months ago."

"Let me get this straight. She hasn't been your submissive for three years?"

"About two and a half years."

"And she wanted more."

"Yes."

"But you didn't?"

"You know this."

"So she left you."