"You were really mad."

"Yes, I was."

I grin. "I blame you and your toys."

"You were quite overcome, Miss Steele. A most satisfactory outcome if I recall." He smiles salaciously. "Incidentally, where are they?"

"The silver b.a.l.l.s? In my bag."

"I'd like them back." He smirks down at me. "They are far too potent a device to be left in your innocent hands."

"Worried I might be quite overcome again, maybe with somebody else?"His eyes glitter dangerously. "I hope that's not going to happen," he says, a cool edge to his voice. "But no, Ana. I want all your pleasure."

Whoa. "Don't you trust me?"

"Implicitly. Now, can I have them back?"

"I'll think about it."

He narrows his eyes at me.

There's music once more from the dance foor but it's a DJ playing a thumping dance number, the ba.s.s pounding out a relentless beat.

"Do you want to dance?"

"I'm really tired, Christian. I'd like to go, if that's okay."

Christian glances at Taylor, who nods, and we set off toward the house, following a couple of drunken guests. I'm grateful when Christian takes my hand-my feet are aching from the dizzying height and tight confnement of my shoes.

Mia comes bounding up to us. "You're not going, are you? The real music's just begin- ning. Come on, Ana." She grabs my hand.

"Mia," Christian admonishes her. "Anastasia's tired. We're going home. Besides, we have a big day tomorrow."

We do?

Mia pouts but surprisingly doesn't push Christian.

"You must come by sometime next week. Maybe we can hit the mall?"

"Sure, Mia." I grin, though in the back of my mind I'm wondering how since I have to work for a living.

She gives me a quick kiss then hugs Christian fercely, taking us both by surprise. More astoundingly still, she places her hands directly on the lapels of his jacket, and he just gazes down at her, indulgently.

"I like seeing you this happy," she says sweetly and kisses him on the cheek. "Bye. You guys have fun." She skips off toward her waiting friends-among them Lily, who looks even more sour-faced without her mask.

I wonder idly where Sean is.

"We'll say goodnight to my parents before we leave. Come." Christian leads me through a gaggle of guests to Grace and Carrick, who wish us fond and warm farewells.

"Please do come again, Anastasia, it's been lovely having you here," says Grace kindly.

I am a little overwhelmed by both her and Carrick's reaction. Fortunately, Grace's par- ents have retired for the evening, so at least I am spared their enthusiasm.

Quietly, Christian and I walk hand in hand to the front of the house where countless cars are lined up and waiting to collect guests. I glance up at Fifty. He looks happy and relaxed. It's a real pleasure to see him this way, though I suspect it's unusual after such an extraordinary day.

"Are you warm enough?" he asks.

"Yes, thank you." I clasp my satin wrap.

"I really enjoyed this evening, Anastasia. Thank you."

"Me too, some parts more than others." I grin.

He grins and nods, then his brow creases. "Don't bite your lip," he warns in a way that makes my blood sing."What did you mean about a big day tomorrow?" I ask to distract myself.

"Dr. Greene is coming to sort you out. Plus, I have a surprise for you."

"Dr. Greene!" I halt.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I hate condoms," he says quietly. His eyes glint in the soft light from the paper lanterns, gauging my reaction.

"It's my body," I mutter, annoyed that he hasn't asked me.

"It's mine, too," he whispers.

I gaze up at him as various guests pa.s.s by, ignoring us. He looks so earnest. Yes, my body is his ... he knows it better than I do.

I reach up, and he finches ever so slightly but stays still. Grasping the corner of his bow tie, I pull so it unravels, revealing the top b.u.t.ton of his shirt. Gently I undo it.

"You look hot like this," I whisper. Actually he looks hot all the time, but really hot like this.

He smirks at me. "I need to get you home. Come."

At the car, Sawyer hands Christian an envelope. He frowns at it and glances at me as Taylor ushers me into the car. Taylor looks relieved for some reason. Christian climbs in and hands me the envelope, unopened, as Taylor and Sawyer take their seats in the front.

"It's addressed to you. One of the staff gave it to Sawyer. No doubt from yet another ensnared heart." Christian's mouth twists. It's obvious this is an unpleasant concept to him.

I stare at the note. Who is this from? Ripping it open, I read it quickly in the dim light.

Holy s.h.i.t, it's from her! Why won't she leave me alone?

f.u.c.k, she's signed it Mrs. Robinson! He told her. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"You told her?"

"Told who, what?"

"That I call her Mrs. Robinson," I snap.

"It's from Elena?" Christian is shocked. "This is ridiculous," he grumbles, running a hand through his hair, and I can tell he's irritated. "I'll deal with her tomorrow. Or Mon- day," he mutters bitterly. And though I'm ashamed to admit it, a very small part of me is pleased. My subcon- scious nods sagely. Elena is p.i.s.sing him off, and this can only be good-surely. I decide to say nothing for now but stash her note in my bag, and in a gesture guaranteed to lighten his mood, I hand him back the b.a.l.l.s.

"Until next time," I murmur.

He glances at me, and it's hard to see his face in the dark, but I think he's smirking. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it.

I gaze out of the window into the darkness, refecting on this long day. I've learned so much about him, gleaned so many missing details-the salons, the road map, his child- hood-but there's still so much more to discover. And what about Mrs. R? Yes, she cares for him, and deeply, it would appear. I can see that, and he cares for her-but not in the same way. I don't know what to think anymore. All this information is making my head hurt.

Christian wakes me just as we pull up outside Escala. "Do I need to carry you in?" he asks gently.

I shake my head sleepily. No way.

As we stand in the elevator, I lean against him, putting my head against his shoulder.

Sawyer stands in front of us, shifting uncomfortably.

"It's been a long day, eh, Anastasia?"

I nod.

"Tired?"

I nod.

"You're not very talkative."

I nod and he grins.

"Come. I'll put you to bed." He takes my hand as we exit the elevator, but we stop in the foyer when Sawyer holds up his hand. In that split second, I am instantly wide awake.

Sawyer talks into his sleeve. I had no idea that he was wearing a radio.

"Will do, T," he says and turns to face us. "Mr. Grey, the tires on Ms. Steele's Audi have been slashed and paint thrown all over it."

Holy s.h.i.t. My car! Who would do that? And I know the answer as soon as the question materializes in my mind. Leila. I glance up at Christian, and he blanches.

"Taylor is concerned that the perp may have entered the apartment and may still be there. He wants to make sure."

"I see," Christian whispers. "What's Taylor's plan?"

"He's coming up in the service elevator with Ryan and Reynolds. They'll do a sweep then give us the all clear. I'm to wait with you, sir."

"Thank you, Sawyer." Christian tightens his arm around me. "This day just gets better and better," he sighs bitterly, nuzzling my hair. "Listen, I can't stand here and wait. Sawyer, take care of Miss Steele. Don't let her in until you have the all clear. I am sure Taylor is overreacting. She can't get into the apartment."What? "No, Christian-you have to stay with me," I plead.

Christian releases me. "Do as you're told, Anastasia. Wait here."

No!

"Sawyer?" Christian says.

Sawyer opens the foyer door to let Christian enter the apartment then shuts the door behind him and stands in front of it, staring impa.s.sively down at me.

Holy s.h.i.t. Christian! All manner of horrifc outcomes run through my mind, but all I can do is stand and wait.

CHAPTER 8

Sawyer talks into his sleeve again.

"Taylor, Mr. Grey has entered the apartment." He finches and grabs the earpiece, pull- ing it out of his ear, presumably receiving some powerful invective from Taylor.

Oh no-if Taylor is worried ...

"Please let me go in," I plead.

"Sorry, Miss Steele. This won't take long." Sawyer holds both hands up in a defensive gesture. "Taylor and the guys are just coming into the apartment now."

Oh. I feel so impotent. Standing stock-still, I listen avidly for the slightest sound, but all I hear is my aggravated breathing. It's loud and shallow, my scalp p.r.i.c.kles, my mouth is dry, and I feel faint. Please, let Christian be okay, I pray silently.

I have no idea how much time pa.s.ses, and still we hear nothing. Surely no sound is good-there are no gunshots. I begin pacing around the table in the foyer and examine the paintings on the walls to distract myself.

I've never really looked at them before: all fgurative paintings, all religious-the Ma- donna and child, all sixteen of them. How odd?

Christian isn't religious, is he? All of the paintings in the great room are abstracts- these are so different. They don't distract me for long-Where is Christian?I stare at Sawyer and he watches me impa.s.sively.

"What's happening?"

"No news, Miss Steele."

Abruptly, the doork.n.o.b moves. Sawyer spins like a top and draws a gun from his shoulder holster.

I freeze. Christian appears at the door.

"All clear," he says, frowning at Sawyer, who puts his gun away immediately and steps back to let me in.

"Taylor is overreacting," Christian grumbles as he holds out his hand to me. I stand gaping at him, unable to move, drinking in every little detail: his unruly hair, the tightness round his eyes, the tense jaw, the top two b.u.t.tons of his shirt undone. I think I must have aged ten years. Christian frowns at me in concern, his eyes dark.