powerful.

“Good,” he says simply, and he visibly relaxes.

I drive into the parking lot half a block from SIP.

“I’ll walk you to work. Taylor will take me from there,” Christian offers. I clamber out

of the car, restricted by my pencil skirt while Christian climbs out gracefully, at ease with

his body or giving the impression of someone at ease with his body. Hmm . . . someone

who can’t bear to be touched can’t be that at ease. I frown at my errant thought.

“Don’t forget we’re seeing Flynn at seven this evening,” he says as he holds his hand

out to me. I press the remote door lock and take his hand.

“I won’t forget. I’ll compile a list of questions for him.”

“Questions? About me?”

I nod.

“I can answer any questions you have about me.” Christian looks affronted.

I smile at him. “Yes, but I want the unbiased, expensive charlatan’s opinion.”

He frowns and suddenly pulls me into his embrace, holding both my hands tightly

behind my back.

“Is this a good idea?” he says, his voice low and husky. I lean back to see the anxiety

looming large and wide in his eyes. It tears at my soul.

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t.” I stare at him, blinking, wanting to caress the con-

cern out of his face. I tug on one of my hands and he frees it. I touch his cheek tenderly—

it’s smooth from shaving this morning.

“What are you worried about?” I ask, my voice soft and soothing.

“That you’ll go.”

“Christian, how many times do I have to tell you—I’m not going anywhere. You’ve

already told me the worst. I’m not leaving you.”

“Then why haven’t you answered me?”

“Answered you?” I murmur disingenuously.

“You know what I’m talking about, Ana.”

I sigh. “I want to know that I’m enough for you, Christian. That’s all.”

“And you won’t take my word for it?” he says exasperated, releasing me.

“Christian, this has all been so quick. And by your own admission, you’re fifty shades

of fucked-up. I can’t give you what you need,” I mutter. “It’s just not for me. But that

makes me feel inadequate, especially seeing you with Leila. Who’s to say that one day

you won’t meet someone who likes doing what you do? And who’s to say you won’t, you

know . . . fall for her? Someone much better suited to your needs.” The thought of Christian

with anyone else sickens me. I stare down at my knotted fingers.

“I knew several women who like doing what I like to do. None of them appealed to me

the way you do. I’ve never had an emotional connection with any of them. It’s only ever

been you, Ana.”

“Because you never gave them a chance. You’ve spent too long locked up in your for-

tress, Christian. Look, let’s discuss this later. I have to go to work. Maybe Dr. Flynn can

offer us his insight.” This is all far too heavy a discussion for a parking lot at eight fifty in

the morning, and Christian, for once, seems to agree. He nods but his eyes are wary.

“Come,” he orders, holding out his hand.

When I reach my desk, I find a note asking me to go straight to Elizabeth’s office. My heart

leaps into my mouth. Oh, this is it. I’m going to get fired.

“Anastasia.” Elizabeth smiles kindly, waving me into a chair before her desk. I sit and

gaze at her expectantly, hoping that she can’t hear my thumping heart. She smoothes her

thick black hair and regards with me with somber, clear blue eyes.

“I have some rather sad news.”

Sad! Oh no.

“I’ve called you in to inform you that Jack has left the company rather suddenly.”

I flush. This isn’t sad for me. Should I tell her that I know?

“His rather hasty departure has left a vacancy, and we’d like you to fill it for now, until

we find a replacement.”

What? I feel the blood rush from my head. Me?

“But, I’ve only been here for a week or so.”

“Yes, Anastasia, I understand but Jack was always a champion of your abilities. He had

high hopes for you.”

I stop breathing. He had high hopes of getting me on my back, sure.

“Here’s a detailed job description. Have a good look through it, and we can discuss it

later today.”

“But—”

“Please, I know this is sudden, but you’ve already made contact with Jack’s key au-

thors. Your chapter notes haven’t gone unnoticed by the other commissioning editors. You

have a shrewd mind, Anastasia. We all think you can do it.”

“Okay.” This is unreal.

“Look, think about it. In the meantime, you can take Jack’s office.”

She stands, effectively dismissing me, and holds out her hand. I shake it in a complete

daze.“I’m glad he’s gone,” she whispers and a haunted look crosses her face. Holy shit.

What did he do to her?

Back at my desk, I grab my Blackberry and call Christian.

He answers on the second ring. “Anastasia. You okay?” he asks concerned.

“They’ve just given me Jack’s job to mind, temporarily,” I blurt out.

“You’re kidding,” he whispers, shocked.

“Did you have anything to do with this?” My voice is sharper than I mean it to be.

“No—no, not at all. I mean, with all due respect, Anastasia, you’ve only been there for

a week or so—and I don’t mean that unkindly.”

“I know.” I frown. “Apparently Jack really rated me.”

“Did he now?” Christian’s tone is frosty and then he sighs.

“Well, baby, if they think you can do it, I’m sure you can. Congratulations. Perhaps we

should celebrate after we’ve seen Flynn.”

“Hmm. Are you sure you had nothing to do with this?”

He is silent for a moment, and then he says in a low menacing voice. “Do you doubt

me? It angers me that you do.”

I swallow. Boy, he gets mad so easily. “I’m sorry,” I breathe, chastened.

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be here. And Anastasia?”

“What?”

“Use your Blackberry,” he adds tersely.

“Yes, Christian.”

He doesn’t hang up as I expect him to but takes a deep breath.

“I mean it. If you need me, I’m here.” His words are much softer, conciliatory. Oh, he’s

so mercurial . . . his mood swings are like a metronome set at presto.

“Okay,” I murmur. “I’d better go. I have to move offices.”

“If you need me. I mean it,” he murmurs.

“I know, thank you, Christian. I love you.”

I sense his grin at the other end of the phone. I’ve won him back.

“I love you, too, baby.” Oh, will I ever tire of him saying those words to me?

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Laters, baby.”

I hang up and glance at Jack’s office. My office. Holy cow—Anastasia Steele, Acting

Commissioning Editor. Who would have thought? I should ask for more money.

What would Jack think if he knew? I shudder at the thought and wonder idly how he’s

spent his morning, not in New York as he expected. I stroll into his—my office—sit down

at the desk, and start reading the job description.

At twelve thirty, Elizabeth buzzes me.

“Ana, we need you in a meeting at one o’clock in the boardroom. Jerry Roach and Kay

Bestie will be there—you know, the company president and vice president? All the com-

missioning editors will be attending.”

Shit!

“Do I need to prepare anything?”

“No, this is just an informal gathering we do once a month. Lunch will be provided.”

“I’ll be there.” I hang up.

Holy shit!I check through the current roster of Jack’s authors. Yes, I’ve pretty much got

those nailed. I have the five manuscripts he’s championing, plus two more, which should

really be considered for publication. I take a deep breath—I cannot believe it’s lunchtime

already. The day has flown by, and I’m loving it. There has been so much to absorb this

morning. A ping from my calendar announces an appointment.