I stare at the small screen of my Blackberry. The vehemence implicit in his e-mail takes

me by surprise. Why does he feel like this? It’s not like I’m hiding erotic photographs of

my exes.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Indulging you

Date:June 17, 2011 09:14

To:Christian Grey

It’s for your birthday.

Another surprise.

Don’t be so petulant.

A x

He doesn’t reply immediately, and I’m called into a meeting so I can’t dwell on it for too

long.

When I next glance at my Blackberry, to my horror I realize it’s four in the afternoon.

Where has the day gone? Still no message from Christian. I decide to e-mail him again.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Hello

Date:June 17, 2011 16:03

To:Christian Grey

Are you not talking to me?

Don’t forget I am going for a drink with José, and that he’s staying with us tonight.

Please rethink about joining us.

A x

He doesn’t reply, and I feel a frisson of unease. I hope he’s okay. Calling his mobile, I get

his voicemail. The announcement simply says Grey, leave a messagein his most clipped

tone.“Hi . . . um . . . it’s me. Ana. Are you okay? Call me,” I stutter through my message.

I’ve never had to leave one for him before. I flush as I hang up. Of course he’ll know it’s

you, idiot!My subconscious rolls her eyes at me. I am tempted to ring his PA Andrea but

decide that’s a step too far. Reluctantly I continue my work.

My phone rings unexpectedly and my heart jumps. Christian!But no—it’s Kate, my best

friend finally!

“Ana!” she shouts from wherever she is.

“Kate! Are you back? I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too. I have so much to tell you. We’re at Sea-Tac—me and my man.” She giggles

in a most un-Kate-like way.

“Cool. I have so much to tell you, too.”

“See you back at the apartment?”

“I’m having drinks with José. Join us.”

“José’s in town? Sure! Text me where.”

“Okay.” I beam. My best friend is home. After all this time!

“You good, Ana?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Still with Christian?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Laters!”

Oh, not her as well. Elliot’s influence knows no bounds.

“Yeah—laters, baby.” I grin and she hangs up.

Wow. Kate is home. How am I going to tell her all that has happened? I should write it

down so I don’t forget anything.

An hour later my office phone rings— Christian?No, it’s Claire.

“You should see the guy asking for you in reception. How come you know all these

hot guys, Ana?”

José must be here. I glance at the clock—it’s five fifty-five, and a small thrill of excite-

ment pulses through me. I haven’t seen him in ages.

“Ana, wow! You look great. So grown up.” He grins at me.

Just because I’m wearing a smart dress . . . jeez!

He hugs me hard. “And tall,” he mutters in amazement.

“It’s just the shoes, José. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He’s wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and a black and white check flannel shirt.

“I’ll grab my things and we can go.”

“Cool. I’ll wait here.”

I pick up two Rolling Rocks from the crowded bar and head over to the table where José

is seated.

“You found Christian’s place okay?”

“Yeah. I haven’t been inside. I just delivered the photos to the service elevator. Some

guy named Taylor took them up. Looks like quite a place.”

“It is. You should see inside.”

“Can’t wait. Salud, Ana. Seattle agrees with you.”

I flush as we clink bottles. It’s Christian that agrees with me. “Salud. Tell me about

your show and how it went.”

He beams and launches into the story. He sold all but three of his photos, which has

taken care of his student loans and left him some cash to spare.

“And I’ve been commissioned to do some landscapes for the Portland Tourist Author-

ity. Pretty cool, huh?” he finishes proudly.

“Oh José—that’s wonderful. Not interfering with your studies though?” I frown at him.

“Nah. Now that you guys have gone and three of the guys I used to hang out with, I

have more time.”

“No hot babe to keep you busy? Last time I saw you, you had half a dozen women

hanging on your every word.” I arch an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, Ana. None of them are woman enough for me.” He’s all bravado.

“Oh sure. José Rodriguez, lady killer.” I giggle.

“Hey—I have my moments, Steele.” He looks vaguely hurt, and I am chastened.

“Sure you do.” I mollify him.

“So, how’s Grey?” he asks, his tone changing, becoming cooler.

“He’s good. We’re good,” I murmur.

“Serious, you say?”

“Yes. Serious.”

“He’s not too old for you?”

“Oh José. You know what my mom says—I was born old.”

José’s mouth twists wryly.

“How is your mom?” And like that, we are out of the danger zone.

“Ana!”

I turn and there’s Kate with Ethan. She looks gorgeous: sun-kissed, bleached strawber-

ry-blond hair, golden tan, and beaming white smile, and so shapely in her white cami and

tight white jeans. All eyes are on Kate. I leap up from my seat to give her a hug. Oh how

I’ve missed this woman!

She pushes me away from her and holds me at arm’s length, examining me closely. I

flush under her intense gaze.

“You’ve lost weight. A lot of weight. And you look different. Grown up. What’s been

going on?” she says, all mother hen, concerned and bossy. “I like your dress. Suits you.”

“A lot’s happened since you went away. I’ll tell you later when we’re on our own.” I

am not ready for the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition just yet. She regards me suspiciously.

“You’re okay?” she asks gently.

“Yes,” I smile, though I’d be happier knowing where Christian is.

“Cool.”

“Hi, Ethan.” I grin at him, and he gives me a quick hug.

“Hi, Ana,” he whispers in my ear.

José frowns at him.

“How was lunch with Mia?” I ask Ethan.

“Interesting,” he says cryptically.

Oh?

“Ethan—you know José?”

“We’ve met once,” José mutters, assessing Ethan as they shake hands.

“Yeah, at Kate’s place in Vancouver,” Ethan says, smiling pleasantly at José. “Right—

who’s for a drink?”

I make my way to the restrooms. While there I text Christian our location; perhaps he’ll

join us. There are no missed calls from him and no e-mails. This is not like him.

“Whassup, Ana?” José asks as I come back to the table.

“I can’t reach Christian. I hope he’s okay.”

“He’ll be fine. Like another beer?”

“Sure.”

Kate leans across. “Ethan says some mad stalker ex-girlfriend was in the apartment

with a gun?”

“Well . . . yeah.” I shrug apologetically. Oh jeez—do we have to do this now?

“Ana—what the hell’s been going on?” Kate stops abruptly and checks her phone.

“Hi, baby,” she says when she answers it. Baby!She frowns and looks at me. “Sure,”

she says and turns to me. “It’s Elliot . . . he wants to talk to you.”

“Ana.” Elliot’s voice is clipped and quiet, and my scalp prickles ominously.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Christian. He’s not back from Portland.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“His helicopter has gone missing.”

“Charlie Tango?” I whisper as all the breath leaves my body. “No!”

I stare at the flames, mesmerized. They dance and weave bright blazing orange with tips of

cobalt blue in the fireplace in Christian’s apartment. And despite the heat pumping out of

the fire and the blanket draped around my shoulders, I’m cold. Bone-chillingly cold.

I’m aware of hushed voices, many hushed voices. But they’re in the background, a