Total pages in book: 262
Estimated words: 268603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1343(@200wpm)___ 1074(@250wpm)___ 895(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 268603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1343(@200wpm)___ 1074(@250wpm)___ 895(@300wpm)
Sabotage my happiness?
How and why would I do that?
It’s like love. That was a frightening prospect, too, yet I let that in.
Shit. Why can’t I just accept this feeling and enjoy it? I could bathe in its fire and rise reborn like a phoenix…or will I perish in its flames, with what’s left of my heart destroyed?
Flowery, Grey. I snort. Get a grip.
Maybe Bastille has a point. These last few days have been idyllic. Work is going well. I’ve not had any further arguments with my wife, just fun and frolics.
She’s been…Ana. My Ana.
I recall the Shipbuilding Association dinner, a few nights back, where—at my request—Ana wore Kegel balls throughout the long meal. How she held it together I’ll never know. She didn’t when we got home. I shift in my seat, remembering her need.
My phone buzzes, interrupting my erotic reminiscence.
“Yes?”
“I have Welch for you.”
“Thanks, Andrea.”
“Mr. Grey.” His gravelly voice kills any residual lust that’s lingering in my body. “Hyde’s bail hearing is this afternoon. I’ll report back when the judge has given her verdict.”
“Let’s hope she makes the right decision.”
He clears his throat, “He’s a flight risk. I think she will.”
“Great. Let me know.”
As I put the phone down, my BlackBerry buzzes with a text.
LEILA
I wanted to thank you personally for
everything you’ve done for me.
I am trying to understand why you
won’t see me. It’s hard.
I owe you so much. Leila.
What the hell?
I switch my phone off and return to my coffee. I am not in the mood to deal with Leila Williams. She shouldn’t be texting me at all. I had hoped that Flynn had talked to her, but I’ll discuss Leila’s persistence with him later today when I see him.
Mia is more animated than usual when we meet for an early lunch at my favorite sushi restaurant. She hurls herself at me, fizzing with excitement, kissing my cheek. “It’s so good to see you,” she gushes.
“You saw me last weekend.” I return her hug, my tone wry.
“But I get you to myself—and I have news! I have a job.” She raises her hands and does a celebratory twirl before she takes her seat.
“What! Finally?” Her joy is contagious, and I’m eager to hear the details.
“It’s taken forever. But I’m thrilled. I’m working for Crissy Scales.”
“The caterer?”
“Yes. Weddings. Events. All those gigs. I want to start my own business one day, but she’s going to show me the ropes. I’m super-excited.”
“Great. When do you start?”
“Next Friday.”
“Tell me everything.”
No one can enthuse like my little sister, and I can’t remember the last time we spent a long lunch together, just the two of us. Over our sashimi and maki rolls she regales me with her hopes for her new career, and with her latest attempts to win Ethan Kavanagh’s heart.
“Mia, I’m not sure I can deal with you having a love life.”
“Oh, Christian, of course I have a love life. I had so much fun in Paris.”
“What?”
“Yes. There was Victor, Alexandre—”
“There’s a list? Christ. Stop.”
“Don’t be such a prude, Christian,” she scolds.
“Moi?” I place my hands on my chest in feigned outrage.
She laughs.
“So, you think you have a chance with Ethan?” I ask.
“Yes.” She’s definitive, and that’s one of the many things I love about her, her determination and resilience.
“Okay. Good luck with that.” I signal for the check.
“Can we do this again? I miss you.”
“Of course. But right now I have to get back to work for a meeting.”
I’m sitting with Barney and Fred in the lab, examining the latest prototype of the solar tablet—the lighter, simpler, cheaper version for struggling economies in the developing world. This is the part of my job that I love most. Barney is in full flow. “Took eight hours to charge and it’s giving us three days of use.”
“Can we get more?”
“I think we’re at our limit with the battery technology at the moment.” Fred glides his glasses up his nose. “It’s the black-and-white E-ink screen that saves us on power. And it’s more robust.”
“And for the home market?”
“Color touchscreen.” Barney hands me the other prototype.
I weigh it in my hands. “It’s quite a bit heavier.”
“Color screens are.”
“Feels expensive.” I grin.
“We’re only getting four hours from it so far, with eight hours in the sun.”
“Makes sense. But it can be charged conventionally?”
“Yes. Here.” Barney points out the charging port on the bottom of the device. “It’s standard, nonproprietary USB. Saves on landfill.”
“That’s a good marketing angle.” My phone buzzes, and Welch’s name pops up on the screen.
“Guys, I’ve got to get this.” I step away from the workbench and answer. “What gives?”
“He didn’t make bail. No trial set yet.”
“He doesn’t deserve bail. Thanks for letting me know.” I hang up and send a quick e-mail to Ana.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Hyde
Date: September 1 2011 15:24
To: Anastasia Grey
Anastasia
For your information, Hyde has been refused bail and remanded in custody. He’s charged with attempted kidnapping and arson. As yet no date has been set for the trial.