He smiles down at me."Okay, the crop and the fogger. Why, Miss Steele, you're full of surprises."

"As are you, Mr. Grey. It's one of the things I love about you." I kiss him gently at the corner of his mouth.

"What else do you love about me?" he asks and his eyes widen.

I know it's a huge deal for him to ask this question. It humbles me and I blink at him. I love everything about him-even his ffty shades. I know that life with Christian will never be boring.

"This." I stroke my index fnger across his lips. "I love this, and what comes out of it, and what you do to me with it. And what's in here." I caress his temple. "You're so smart and witty and knowledgeable, competent in so many things. But most of all, I love what's in here." I press my palm gently against his chest, feeling his steady, beating heart.

"You are the most compa.s.sionate man I've met. What you do. How you work. It's awe- inspiring," I whisper.

"Awe-inspiring?" He's puzzled, but there's a trace of humor on his face. Then his face transforms, and his shy smile appears as if he's embarra.s.sed, and I want to launch myself at him. So I do.

I am dozing, wrapped in satin and Grey. Christian nuzzles me awake.

"Hungry?" he whispers "Hmm, famished."

"Me, too."

I lean up to gaze down at him sprawled on the bed.

"It's your birthday, Mr. Grey. I'll cook you something. What would you like?"

"Surprise me." He runs his hand down my back, stroking me gently. "I should check my Blackberry for all the messages I missed yesterday." He sighs and starts to sit up, and I know this special time is over ... for now.

"Let's shower," he says.

Who am I to turn down the birthday boy?

Christian is in his study on the phone. Taylor is with him, looking serious but casual in jeans and a tight, black T-shirt. I busy myself in the kitchen fxing lunch. I have found salm- on steaks in the fridge, and I'm poaching them with lemon, making a salad, and boiling some baby potatoes. I feel extraordinarily relaxed and happy, on top of the world-literally.

Turning toward the large window, I stare out at the glorious blue sky. All that talking ... all that s.e.xing ... hmm. A girl could get used to that.

Taylor emerges from the study, interrupting my reverie. I turn down my iPod and take out an ear bud.

"Hi, Taylor."

"Ana." He nods.

"Your daughter okay?""Yes, thanks. My ex-wife thought she had appendicitis, but she was overreacting as usual." Taylor rolls his eyes, surprising me. "Sophie's fne, though she has a nasty stomach bug."

"I'm sorry."

He smiles.

"Has Charlie Tango been located?"

"Yes. The recovery team is on its way. She should be back at Boeing Field late tonight."

"Oh, good."

He gives me a tight smile. "Will that be all, ma'am?"

"Yes, yes of course." I fush ... will I ever get used to Taylor calling me ma'am? It makes me feel so old, at least thirty.

He nods and heads out of the great room. Christian is still on the phone. I am waiting for the potatoes to boil. It gives me an idea. Fetching my purse, I fsh out my Blackberry.

There's a text from Kate.

*C U this evening. Looking forward to a loooooong chat*

I text back.

*Same here*

It will be good to talk to Kate.

Calling up the e-mail program, I type a quick message to Christian.

From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Lunch Date: June 18, 2011 13:12 To: Christian Grey Dear Mr. Grey I am e-mailing to inform you that your lunch is nearly ready.

And that I had some mind-blowing, kinky f.u.c.kery earlier today.

Birthday kinky f.u.c.kery is to be recommended.

And another thing-I love you.

A x (Your fancee) I listen carefully for a reaction, but he's still on the phone. I shrug. Perhaps he's just too busy. My Blackberry vibrates.From: Christian Grey Subject: Kinky f.u.c.kery Date: June 18, 2011 13:15 To: Anastasia Steele What aspect was most mind-blowing?

I'm taking notes.

Christian Grey Famished and Wasting Away After the Mornings Exertions CEO, Grey Enterprises Hold- ings Inc.

PS: I love your signature PPS: What happened to the art of conversation?

From: Anastasia Steele Subject: Famished?

Date: June 18, 2011 13:18 To: Christian Grey Dear Mr. Grey May I draw your attention to the frst line of my previous e-mail informing you that your lunch is indeed almost ready ... so none of this famished and wasting away nonsense.

With regard to the mind-blowing aspects of the kinky f.u.c.kery ... frankly-all of it. I'd be interested in reading your notes. And I like my bracketed signature, too.

A x (Your fancee) PS: Since when have you been so loquacious? And you're on the phone!

I press send and look up, and he's standing in front of me, smirking. Before I can say anything, he bounds around the kitchen island, sweeps me up in his arms, and kisses me soundly.

"That is all, Miss Steele," he says, releasing me, and he saunters-in his jeans, bare feet and untucked white shirt-back to his offce, leaving me breathless.

I've made a watercress, cilantro, and sour cream dip to accompany the salmon, and I've set the breakfast bar. I hate interrupting him while he's working, but now I stand in the doorway of his offce. He's still on the phone, all thoroughly f.u.c.ked hair and bright gray eyes-a visually nourishing feast. He looks up when he sees me and doesn't take his eyes off me. He frowns slightly, and I don't know if it's at me or because of his conversation.

"Just let them in and leave them alone. Do you understand, Mia?" he hisses and rolls his eyes. "Good."I mime eating, and he grins at me and nods.

"I'll see you later." He hangs up. "One more call?" he asks.

"Sure."

"That dress is very short," he adds.

"You like it?" I give him a quick twirl. It's one of Caroline Acton's purchases. A soft turquoise sundress, probably more suitable for the beach, but it's such a lovely day on so many levels. He frowns and my face falls.

"You look fantastic in it, Ana. I just don't want anyone else to see you like that."

"Oh!" I scowl at him. "We're at home, Christian. No one but the staff."

His mouth twists, and either he's trying to hide his amus.e.m.e.nt or he really doesn't think that's funny. But eventually he nods, rea.s.sured. I shake my head at him-he's actu- ally being serious? I head back to the kitchen.

Five minutes later, he's back in front of me, holding the phone.

"I have Ray for you," he murmurs, his eyes wary.

All the air leaves my body at once. I take the phone and cover the mouthpiece.

"You told him!" I hiss. Christian nods, and his eyes widen at my obvious look of dis- tress.

s.h.i.t! I take a deep breath. "Hi, Dad."

"Christian has just asked me if he can marry you," Ray says.

Oh s.h.i.t. The silence stretches between us as I desperately think what to say. Ray as usual stays silent, giving me no clue as to his reaction to this news.

"What did you say?" I crack frst.

"I said I wanted to talk to you. It's kind of sudden, don't you think, Annie? You've not known him long. I mean, he's a nice guy, knows his fshing ... but so soon?" His voice is calm and measured.

"Yes. It is sudden ... hang on." Hastily, I leave the kitchen area away from Christian's anxious gaze and head toward the great window. The doors to the balcony are open, and I step out into the sunshine. I can't quite walk to the edge. It's just too far up.

"I know it's sudden and all-but ... well, I love him. He loves me. He wants to marry me, and there'll never be anyone else for me." I fush thinking this is probably the most intimate conversation I have ever had with my stepfather.

Ray is silent on the other end of the phone.

"Have you told your mother?"

"No."

"Annie ... I know he's all kinds of rich and eligible, but marriage? It's such a big step.

You're sure?"

"He's my happily ever after," I whisper.

"Whoa." Ray says after a moment, his tone softer.

"He's everything."

"Annie, Annie, Annie. You're such a headstrong young woman. I hope to G.o.d you know what you're doing. Hand me back to him, will you?"

"Sure, Dad, and will you give me away at the wedding?" I ask quietly."Oh, honey." His voice cracks, and he's quiet for a few moments, the emotion in his voice bringing tears to my eyes. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure," he says even- tually.

Oh, Ray. I love you so much ... I swallow, to keep from crying. "Thank you, Dad. I'll hand you back to Christian. Be gentle with him. I love him," I whisper.

I think Ray is smiling on the other end of the line, but it's hard to tell. It's always hard to tell with Ray.

"Sure thing, Annie. And come and visit this old man and bring that Christian with you."

I march back into the room-p.i.s.sed at Christian for not warning me-and hand him the phone, my expression letting him know just how p.i.s.sed I am. He's amused as he takes the phone and heads back into his study.

Two minutes later, he reappears.

"I have your stepfather's rather begrudging blessing," he says proudly, so proudly, in fact, that it makes me giggle, and he grins at me. He's acting like he's just negotiated a major new merger or acquisition, which I suppose on one level, he has.

"d.a.m.n, you're a good cook, woman." Christian swallows his last mouthful and raises his gla.s.s of white wine to me. I blossom under his praise, and it occurs to me I'll only get to cook for him on weekends. I frown. I enjoy cooking. Perhaps I should have made him a cake for his birthday. I check my watch. I still have time.

"Ana?" He interrupts my thoughts. "Why did you ask me not to take your photo?" His question startles me all the more because his voice is deceptively soft.

Oh ... s.h.i.t. The photos. I stare down at my empty plate, twisting my fngers in my lap.

What can I say? I'd promised myself not to mention that I'd found his version of Readers'

Wives.

"Ana," he snaps. "What is it?" He makes me jump, and his voice commands me to look at him. When did I think he didn't intimidate me?

"I found your photos," I whisper.

His eyes widen in shock. "You've been in the safe?" he asks, incredulous.

"Safe? No. I didn't know you had a safe."

He frowns. "I don't understand."

"In your closet. The box. I was looking for your tie, and the box was under your jeans ... the ones you normally wear in the playroom. Except today." I fush.

He gapes at me, appalled, and nervously runs his hand through his hair as he processes this information. He rubs his chin, lost in thought, but he can't mask the perplexed annoy- ance etched on his face. Abruptly he shakes his head, exasperated-but amused, too-and a faint smile of admiration kisses the corner of his mouth. He steeples his hands in front of him and focuses on me once more.

"It's not what you think. I'd forgotten all about them. That box has been moved. Those photographs belong in my safe."

"Who moved them?" I whisper.

He swallows. "There's only one person who could have done that.""Oh. Who? And what do you mean, 'it's not what I think'?"