Master is dark ... Master is a dark man, but I love him."

No, no, he's not. I bristle internally. He's not dark. He's a good man, and he's not in the dark. He's joined me in the light. And now she's here, trying to drag him back with some warped idea that she loves him.

"Leila, do you want to give me the gun?" I ask softly. Her hand grips it tightly, and she hugs it to her chest.

"This is mine. It's all I have left." She gently caresses the gun. "So she can join her love."

Holy s.h.i.t! Which love-Christian? It's like she's punched me in the stomach. I know he will be here momentarily to fnd out what's keeping me. Does she mean to shoot him?

The thought is so horrifc, I feel my throat swell and ache as a huge knot forms there, al- most choking me, matching the fear that's balled tightly in my stomach.

Right on cue the door bursts open, and Christian is standing in the doorway, Taylor behind him.

Glancing at me briefy, Christian's eyes sweep over me from head to toe, and I notice the small spark of relief in his look. But his relief is feeting as his gaze darts to Leila and stills, focusing on her, not wavering in the slightest. He glares at her with an intensity I have not seen before, his eyes wild, wide, angry, and scared.

Oh no ... oh no.

Leila's eyes widen, and for a moment, it seems her reason returns. She blinks rapidly while her hand tightens once more around the gun.

My breath catches in my throat, and my heart starts thumping so loud that I hear the blood pounding in my ears. No, no, no!

My world teeters precariously in the hands of this poor, f.u.c.ked-up woman. Will she shoot? Both of us? Christian? The thought is crippling. But after an eternity, as time hangs suspended around us, her head dips slightly and she gazes up at him, through her long lashes, her expression contrite.

Christian holds up his hand, signaling to Taylor to stay where he is. Taylor's blanched face betrays his fury. I have never seen him like this, but he stands stock-still as Christian and Leila stare at each other.

I realize I'm holding my breath. What will she do? What will he do? But they just con- tinue to stare at each other. Christian's expression is raw, full of some unnamed emotion. It could be pity, fear, affection ... or is it love? No, please, not love!

His eyes bore into her, and agonizingly slowly, the atmosphere in the apartment chang- es. The tension is building so that I can sense their connection, the charge between them.

No! Suddenly I feel I'm the interloper, intruding on them as they stand gazing at each other. I'm an outsider-a voyeur, spying on a forbidden, intimate scene behind closed curtains.

Christian's intense gaze burns brighter, and his bearing changes subtly. He looks taller, more angular somehow, colder, and more distant. I recognize this stance. I've seen him like this before-in his playroom.

My scalp p.r.i.c.kles anew. This is Dominant Christian, and how at ease he looks. Wheth- er he was born to or made for this role, I just don't know, but with a sinking heart and sickened stomach, I watch as Leila responds, her lips parting, her breathing picking up as the frst fush of color stains her cheeks. No! It's such an unwelcome glimpse into his past, agonizing to witness.

Finally, he mouths a word at her. I can't make out what it is, but the effect on Leila is immediate. She drops to the foor on her knees, her head bowed, and the gun falls and skit- ters uselessly across the wooden foor. Holy f.u.c.k.

Christian walks calmly over to where the gun has fallen and bends gracefully to pick it up. He regards it with ill-disguised disgust then slips it into his jacket pocket. He gazes once more at Leila as she kneels compliantly beside the kitchen island.

"Anastasia, go with Taylor," he commands. Taylor crosses the threshold and stares at me.

"Ethan," I whisper.

"Downstairs." He responds matter-of-factly, his eyes never leaving Leila.

Downstairs. Not here. Ethan's okay. Relief foods hard and fast through my blood, and for a moment I think I'm going to faint.

"Anastasia," Christian's tone is clipped in warning.

I blink at him, and I'm suddenly unable to move. I don't want to leave him-leave him with her. He moves to stand beside Leila as she kneels at his feet. He's hovering over her, protectively. She's so still, it's unnatural. I can't take my eyes off the two of them- together ...

"For the love of G.o.d, Anastasia, will you do as you're told for once in your life and go!"

Christian's eyes lock with mine as he glowers at me, his voice a blistering cold shard of ice.

The anger beneath the quiet, deliberate delivery of his words is palpable.

Angry at me? Surely not. Please-No! I feel like he's slapped me hard. Why does he want to stay with her?

"Taylor. Take Miss Steele downstairs. Now."Taylor nods at him as I stare at Christian.

"Why?" I whisper.

"Go. Back to the apartment." His eyes blaze frostily at me. "I need to be alone with Leila." He says it urgently.

I think he's trying to convey some kind of message, but I'm so thrown by all that's hap- pened that I'm not sure. I glance down at Leila and notice a very small smile cross her lips, but otherwise she remains truly impa.s.sive. A complete submissive. f.u.c.k! My heart chills.

This is what he needs. This is what he likes. No! I want to wail.

"Miss Steele. Ana." Taylor holds his hand out to me, imploring me to come. I am im- mobilized by the horrifc spectacle before me. It confrms my worst fears and plays on all my insecurities: Christian and Leila together-the Dom and his sub.

"Taylor," Christian urges, and Taylor leans down and scoops me into his arms. The last thing I see as we leave is Christian gently stroking Leila's head as he murmurs something softly to her.

No!

As Taylor carries me down the stairs, I lie limply in his arms trying to grasp what's happened in the last ten minutes-was it longer? Or shorter? The concept of time has de- serted me.

Christian and Leila, Leila and Christian ... together? What is he doing with her now?

"Jesus, Ana! What the f.u.c.k is going on?"

I am relieved to see Ethan as he paces the small lobby, still carrying his large shoulder bag. Oh, thank heavens he's okay! When Taylor sets me down, I practically throw myself at Ethan, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Ethan. Oh, thank G.o.d!" I hug him, holding him close. I was so worried, and for a brief moment, I enjoy some respite from my rising panic at what is unfolding upstairs in my apartment.

"What the f.u.c.k is going on, Ana? Who's this guy?"

"Oh, sorry, Ethan, this is Taylor. He works with Christian. Taylor, this is Ethan, my roommate's brother."

They nod at each other.

"Ana, upstairs, what's going on? I was fshing for the apartment keys when these guys jumped out of nowhere and grabbed them. One of them was Christian ..." Ethan's voice trails off.

"You were late ... Thank G.o.d."

"Yeah. I met a friend from Pullman-we had a quick drink. Upstairs, what's going on?"

"There's a girl, an ex of Christian's. In our apartment. She's gone postal, and Christian is ..." My voice cracks, and tears pool in my eyes.

"Hey," Ethan whispers and pulls me close once more. "Has anyone called the cops?"

"No, it's not like that." I sob into his chest and now I've started, I can't stop crying, the tension of this latest episode releasing through my tears. Ethan tightens his arms around me, but I sense his bemus.e.m.e.nt."Hey, Ana, let's go get a drink." He pats my back awkwardly. Abruptly, I feel awkward, too, and embarra.s.sed, and in all honesty, I want to be on my own. But I nod, accepting his offer. I want to be away from here, away from whatever's going on upstairs.

I turn to Taylor.

"Was the apartment checked?" I ask him tearfully, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

"This afternoon." Taylor shrugs apologetically as he hands me a handkerchief. He looks devastated. "I'm sorry, Ana," he murmurs.

I frown. Jeez, he looks so guilty. I don't want to make him feel worse.

"She does seem to have an uncanny ability to evade us," he adds scowling again.

"Ethan and I will go for a quick drink then head back to Escala." I dry my eyes.

Taylor shuffes from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Mr. Grey wanted you to go back to the apartment," he says quietly.

"Well, we know where Leila is now." I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. "So, no need for all the security. Tell Christian we'll see him later."

Taylor opens his mouth to speak and then wisely closes it again.

"Do you want to leave your bag with Taylor?" I ask Ethan.

"No, I'll keep it with me, thanks."

Ethan nods at Taylor, then ushers me out of the front door. Too late, I remember that I've left my purse in the back of Audi. I have nothing.

"My purse-"

"Don't worry," Ethan murmurs, his face full of concern. "It's cool, it's on me."

We choose a bar across the street, settling onto wooden bar stools by the window. I want to see what's going on-who's coming, and more importantly who's going. Ethan hands me a bottle of beer.

"Trouble with an ex?" he says gently.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," I mutter, abruptly guarded. I can't talk about this-I have signed an NDA. And for the frst time, I really resent that fact and that Chris- tian's said nothing about rescinding it.

"I've got time," Ethan says kindly and takes a long slug of his beer.

"She's an ex, from years back. She left her husband for some guy. Then a couple of weeks or so ago he was killed in a car crash, and now she's come after Christian." I shrug.

There, that didn't give too much away.

"Come after him?"

"She had a gun."

"What the f.u.c.k!"

"She didn't actually threaten anyone with it. I think she meant to harm herself. But that's why I was so worried about you. I didn't know if you were in the apartment."

"I see. She sounds unstable."

"Yes, she is."

"And what's Christian doing with her now?"The blood drains from my face and bile rises in my throat. "I don't know," I whisper.

Ethan's eyes widen-at last he's got it.

This is the crux of my problem. What the f.u.c.k are they doing? Talking, I hope. Just talking. Yet all I can see in my mind's eye is his hand, tenderly stroking her hair.

She's disturbed and Christian cares about her, that's all this is, I rationalize. But in the back of my mind, my subconscious is shaking her head sadly.

It's more than that. Leila was able to fulfll his needs in a way I cannot. The thought is depressing.

I try to focus on all we've done in the last few days-his declaration of love, his firty humor, his playfulness. But Elena's words keep coming back to taunt me. It's true what they say about eavesdroppers.

Don't you miss it ... your playroom?

I fnish my beer in record time, and Ethan lines up another. I am not much of a com- panion, but to his credit he stays with me, chatting, trying to lift my spirits, talking about Barbados, and Kate and Elliot's antics, which is wonderfully distracting. But it's just that- a distraction.

My mind, my heart, my soul are all still in that apartment with my Fifty Shades and the woman who used to be his submissive. A woman who thinks she still loves him. A woman who looks like me.

During our third beer, a large cruiser with heavily-tinted windows pulls up next to the Audi in front of the apartment. I recognize Dr. Flynn as he climbs out, accompanied by a woman dressed in what look like pale blue scrubs. I glimpse Taylor as he lets them in through the front door.

"Who's that?" Ethan asks.

"His name's Dr. Flynn. Christian knows him."

"What kind of doctor?"

"A shrink."

"Oh."

We both watch, and a few minutes later they are back. Christian is carrying Leila who is wrapped in a blanket. What? I watch horrifed as they all climb into the cruiser, and it speeds away.

Ethan glances at me sympathetically, and I feel desolate, completely desolate.

"Can I have something a bit stronger?" I ask Ethan, my voice small.

"Sure. What would you like?"

"A brandy. Please."

Ethan nods and retreats to the bar. I gaze through the window at the front door. Mo- ments later Taylor emerges, climbs into the Audi, and heads off toward Escala . . . after Christian? I don't know.

Ethan places a large brandy in front of me.