"Don't you ever touch me again," I snarl at him. "Your itinerary and the brochures are packaged on my desk. I am going home now. Have a nice trip. And in the future, get your own d.a.m.n coffee."

"You f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!" he half screams, half groans at me, but I am already out the door.

I run full pelt to my desk, grab my jacket and my purse, and dash to front reception, ig- noring the moans and curses emanating from the b.a.s.t.a.r.d still prostrate on the kitchen foor.

I burst out of the building and stop for a moment as the cool air hits my face, take a deep breath, and compose myself. But I haven't eaten all day, and as the very unwelcome surge of adrenaline recedes, my legs give out beneath me and I sink to the ground.

I watch with mild detachment the slow motion movie that plays out in front of me: Christian and Taylor in dark suits and white shirts, leaping out of the waiting car and run- ning toward me. Christian sinks to his knees at my side, and on some unconscious level, all I can think is: He's here. My love is here.

"Ana, Ana! What's wrong?" He scoops me into his lap, running his hands up and down my arms, checking for any signs of injury. Grabbing my head between his hands, he stares with wide, terrifed, gray eyes into mine. I sag against him, suddenly overwhelmed with relief and fatigue. Oh, Christian's arms. There is no place I'd rather be.

"Ana." He shakes me gently. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

I shake my head as I realize I need to start communicating.

"Jack," I whisper, and I sense rather than see Christian's swift glance at Taylor, who abruptly disappears into the building.

"f.u.c.k!" Christian enfolds me in his arms. "What did that sleazeball do to you?"And from somewhere just the right side of crazy, a giggle bubbles in my throat. I recall Jack's utter shock as I grabbed his fnger.

"It's what I did to him." I start giggling and I can't stop.

"Ana!" Christian shakes me again, and my giggling ft ceases. "Did he touch you?"

"Only once."

I feel Christian's muscles bunch and tense as rage sweeps through him, and he stands up swiftly, powerfully-rock steady-with me in his arms. He's furious. No!

"Where is that f.u.c.ker?"

From inside the building we hear m.u.f.fed shouting. Christian sets me on my feet.

"Can you stand?"

I nod.

"Don't go in. Don't, Christian." Suddenly my fear is back, fear of what Christian will do to Jack.

"Get in the car," he barks at me.

"Christian, no." I grab his arm.

"Get in the G.o.dd.a.m.ned car, Ana." He shakes me off.

"No! Please!" I plead with him. "Stay. Don't leave me on my own." I deploy my ulti- mate weapon.

Seething, Christian runs his hand through his hair and glares down at me, clearly wracked with indecision. The shouting inside the building escalates, and then stops sud- denly.

Oh, no. What has Taylor done?

Christian fshes out his Blackberry.

"Christian, he has my e-mails."

"What?"

"My e-mails to you. He wanted to know where your e-mails to me were. He was trying to blackmail me."

Christian's look is murderous. Oh s.h.i.t. "f.u.c.k!" he splutters and narrows his eyes at me. He punches a number into his Blackberry.

Oh no. I'm in trouble. Who's he calling?

"Barney. Grey. I need you to access the SIP main server and wipe all Anastasia Steele's e-mails to me. Then access the personal data fles of Jack Hyde and check they aren't stored there. If they are, wipe them ... Yes, all of them. Now. Let me know when it's done."

He stabs the off b.u.t.ton then dials another number.

"Roach. Grey. Hyde-I want him out. Now. This minute. Call security. Get him to clear his desk immediately, or I will liquidate this company frst thing in the morning. You already have all the justifcation you need to give him his pink slip. Do you understand?"

He listens for a moment and hangs up seemingly satisfed.

"Blackberry," he hisses at me through clenched teeth.

"Please don't be mad at me." I blink up at him.

"I am so mad at you right now," he snarls and once more sweeps his hand through his hair. "Get in the car."

"Christian, please-""Get in the f.u.c.king car, Anastasia, or so help me I'll put you in there myself," he threat- ens, his eyes blazing with fury.

Oh s.h.i.t. "Don't do anything stupid, please," I beg.

"STUPID!" he explodes. "I told you to use your f.u.c.king Blackberry. Don't talk to me about stupid. Get in the motherf.u.c.king car, Anastasia-NOW!" he snarls and a frisson of fear runs through me. This is Very Angry Christian. I've not seen him this mad before. He's barely holding on to his self-control.

"Okay," I mutter, placating him. "But please, be careful."

Pressing his lips together in a hard line, he points angrily to the car, glaring at me.

Jeez, okay, I get the message.

"Please be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you. It would kill me," I murmur.

He blinks rapidly and stills, lowering his arm while he takes a deep breath.

"I'll be careful," he says, his eyes softening. Oh, thank the Lord. His eyes burn into me as I head to the car, open the front pa.s.senger door, and climb in. Once I'm safely in the comfort of the Audi, he disappears into the building, and my heart leaps again into my throat. What's he planning to do?

I sit and wait. And wait. And wait. Five eternal minutes. Jack's cab pulls up in front of the Audi. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Jeez, what are they doing in there, and how is Taylor? The wait is agonizing.

Twenty-fve minutes later, Jack emerges from the building, clutching a cardboard stor- age box. Behind him is the security guard. Where was he earlier? And after them, Christian and Taylor. Jack looks sick. He heads straight for the cab, and I'm grateful for the Audi's heavily tinted windows so he cannot see me. The cab drives off-presumably not to Sea- Tac-as Christian and Taylor reach the car.

Opening the driver's door, Christian slides smoothly into the seat, presumably because I am in the front, and Taylor gets in behind me. Neither of them says a word as Christian starts the car and pulls out into the traffc. I risk a quick glance at Fifty. His mouth is set in a frm line, but he seems distracted. The in-car phone rings.

"Grey," Christian snaps.

"Mr. Grey, Barney here."

"Barney, I'm on speaker phone, and there are others in the car," Christian warns.

"Sir, it's all done. But I need to talk to you about what else I found on Mr. Hyde's computer."

"I'll call you when I reach my destination. And thanks, Barney."

"No problem, Mr. Grey."

Barney hangs up. He sounds much younger than I expected.

What else is on Jack's computer?

"Are you talking to me?" I ask quietly.

Christian glances at me, before fxing his eyes back on the road ahead, and I can tell he's still mad.

"No," he mutters sullenly.

Oh, there we go ... how childish. I wrap my arms around myself and stare unseeing out the window. Perhaps I should just ask him to drop me off at my apartment, then he can "not talk" to me from the safety of Escala and save us both the inevitable quarrel. But even as I think it, I know I don't want to leave him to brood, not after yesterday.

Eventually, we pull up in front of his apartment building, and Christian climbs out of the car. Moving with easy grace around to my side, he opens my door.

"Come," he orders as Taylor clambers into the driver's seat. I take his proffered hand and follow him through the grand foyer to the elevator. He doesn't let go of me.

"Christian, why are you so mad at me?" I whisper as we wait.

"You know why," he mutters as we step into the elevator, and he punches in the code to his foor. "G.o.d, if something had happened to you, he'd be dead by now." Christian's tone chills me to the bone. The doors close.

"As it is, I'm going to ruin his career so he can't take advantage of young women any- more, miserable excuse for a man that he is." He shakes his head. "Jesus, Ana!" He grabs me suddenly, imprisoning me in the corner of the elevator.

His hands fst in my hair as he pulls my face up to his, and his mouth is on mine, a pa.s.sionate desperation in his kiss. I don't know why this takes me by surprise, but it does.

I taste his relief, his longing, and his residual anger while his tongue possesses my mouth.

He stops, gazing down at me, resting his weight against me so I can't move. He leaves me breathless, clinging to him for support, staring up into that beautiful face etched with deter- mination and without any trace of humor.

"If anything had happened to you ... If he'd harmed you ..." I feel the shudder that runs through him. "Blackberry," he commands quietly. "From now on. Understand?"

I nod, swallowing, unable to break eye contact from his grim, mesmerizing look.

He straightens, releasing me as the elevator comes to a stop. "He said you kicked him in the b.a.l.l.s." Christian's tone is lighter with a trace of admiration, and I think I'm forgiven.

"Yes," I whisper, still reeling from the intensity of his kiss and his impa.s.sioned com- mand.

"Good."

"Ray is ex-army. He taught me well."

"I'm very glad he did," he breathes and adds, arching a brow, "I'll need to remember that." Taking my hand, he leads me out of the elevator and I follow, relieved. I think that's as bad as his mood is going to get.

"I need to call Barney. I won't be long." He disappears into his study, leaving me stranded in the vast living room. Mrs. Jones is adding the fnishing touches to our meal. I realize I am famished, but I need something to do.

"Can I help?" I ask.

She laughs. "No, Ana. Can I fx you a drink or something? You look beat."

"I'd love a gla.s.s of wine."

"White?"

"Yes, please."

I perch on one of the bar stools, and she hands me a gla.s.s of chilled wine. I don't know what it is, but it's delicious and slides down easily, soothing my shattered nerves. What was I thinking about earlier today? How alive I have felt since I met Christian. How exciting my life has become. Jeez, could I just have a few boring days?What if I'd never met Christian? I'd be holed up in my apartment, talking it through with Ethan, completely freaked by my encounter with Jack, knowing I would have to face the sleazeball again on Friday. As it is, there's every chance I'll never set eyes on him again.

But who will I work for now? I frown. I hadn't thought of that. s.h.i.t, do I even have a job?

"Evening, Gail," Christian says as he comes back into the great room, dragging me from my thoughts. Heading straight to the fridge, he pours himself a gla.s.s of wine.

"Good evening, Mr. Grey. Dinner in ten, sir?"

"Sounds good."

Christian raises his gla.s.s.

"To ex-military men who train their daughters well," he says and his eyes soften.

"Cheers," I mutter, raising my gla.s.s.

"What's wrong?" Christian asks.

"I don't know if I still have a job."

He c.o.c.ks his head to the side. "Do you still want one?"

"Of course."

"Then you still have one."

Simple. See? He is master of my universe. I roll my eyes at him and he smiles.

Mrs. Jones makes a mean chicken potpie. She has left us to enjoy the fruits of her labors, and I feel much better now I've had something to eat. We are sitting at the breakfast bar, and despite my best cajoling, Christian won't tell me what Barney has found on Jack's computer. I drop the subject, and decide to tackle instead the th.o.r.n.y issue of Jose's impend- ing visit.

"Jose called," I say nonchalantly.

"Oh?" Christian turns to face me.