but otherwise she remains truly impassive. A complete submissive. Fuck!My heart chills.

This is what he needs. This is what he likes. No!I want to wail.

“Miss Steele. Ana.” Taylor holds his hand out to me, imploring me to come. I am im-

mobilized by the horrific spectacle before me. It confirms my worst fears and plays on all

my insecurities: Christian and Leila together—the Dom and his sub.

“Taylor,” Christian urges, and Taylor leans down and scoops me into his arms. The last

thing I see as we leave is Christian gently stroking Leila’s head as he murmurs something

softly to her.

No!

As Taylor carries me down the stairs, I lie limply in his arms trying to grasp what’s

happened in the last ten minutes—was it longer? Or shorter? The concept of time has de-

serted me.

Christian and Leila, Leila and Christian . . . together? What is he doing with her now?

“Jesus, Ana! What the fuck is going on?”

I am relieved to see Ethan as he paces the small lobby, still carrying his large shoulder

bag. Oh, thank heavens he’s okay!When Taylor sets me down, I practically throw myself

at Ethan, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Ethan. Oh, thank God!” I hug him, holding him close. I was so worried, and for a

brief moment, I enjoy some respite from my rising panic at what is unfolding upstairs in

my apartment.

“What the fuck is going on, Ana? Who’s this guy?”

“Oh, sorry, Ethan, this is Taylor. He works with Christian. Taylor, this is Ethan, my

roommate’s brother.”

They nod at each other.

“Ana, upstairs, what’s going on? I was fishing for the apartment keys when these guys

jumped out of nowhere and grabbed them. One of them was Christian . . .” Ethan’s voice

trails off.

“You were late . . . Thank God.”

“Yeah. I met a friend from Pullman—we had a quick drink. Upstairs, what’s going

on?”“There’s a girl, an ex of Christian’s. In our apartment. She’s gone postal, and Christian

is . . .” My voice cracks, and tears pool in my eyes.

“Hey,” Ethan whispers and pulls me close once more. “Has anyone called the cops?”

“No, it’s not like that.” I sob into his chest and now I’ve started, I can’t stop crying, the

tension of this latest episode releasing through my tears. Ethan tightens his arms around

me, but I sense his bemusement.

“Hey, Ana, let’s go get a drink.” He pats my back awkwardly. Abruptly, I feel awkward,

too, and embarrassed, and in all honesty, I want to be on my own. But I nod, accepting his

offer. I want to be away from here, away from whatever’s going on upstairs.

I turn to Taylor.

“Was the apartment checked?” I ask him tearfully, wiping my nose with the back of

my hand.

“This afternoon.” Taylor shrugs apologetically as he hands me a handkerchief. He

looks devastated. “I’m sorry, Ana,” he murmurs.

I frown. Jeez, he looks so guilty. I don’t want to make him feel worse.

“She does seem to have an uncanny ability to evade us,” he adds scowling again.

“Ethan and I will go for a quick drink then head back to Escala.” I dry my eyes.

Taylor shuffles from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Mr. Grey wanted you to go back to

the apartment,” he says quietly.

“Well, we know where Leila is now.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “So,

no need for all the security. Tell Christian we’ll see him later.”

Taylor opens his mouth to speak and then wisely closes it again.

“Do you want to leave your bag with Taylor?” I ask Ethan.

“No, I’ll keep it with me, thanks.”

Ethan nods at Taylor, then ushers me out of the front door. Too late, I remember that

I’ve left my purse in the back of Audi. I have nothing.

“My purse—”

“Don’t worry,” Ethan murmurs, his face full of concern. “It’s cool, it’s on me.”

We choose a bar across the street, settling onto wooden bar stools by the window. I want

to see what’s going on—who’s coming, and more importantly who’s going. Ethan hands

me a bottle of beer.

“Trouble with an ex?” he says gently.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” I mutter, abruptly guarded. I can’t talk about

this—I have signed an NDA. And for the first time, I really resent that fact and that Chris-

tian’s said nothing about rescinding it.

“I’ve got time,” Ethan says kindly and takes a long slug of his beer.

“She’s an ex, from years back. She left her husband for some guy. Then a couple of

weeks or so ago he was killed in a car crash, and now she’s come after Christian.” I shrug.

There, that didn’t give too much away.

“Come after him?”

“She had a gun.”

“What the fuck!”

“She didn’t actually threaten anyone with it. I think she meant to harm herself. But

that’s why I was so worried about you. I didn’t know if you were in the apartment.”

“I see. She sounds unstable.”

“Yes, she is.”

“And what’s Christian doing with her now?”

The blood drains from my face and bile rises in my throat. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

Ethan’s eyes widen—at last he’s got it.

This is the crux of my problem. What the fuck are they doing? Talking, I hope. Just

talking. Yet all I can see in my mind’s eye is his hand, tenderly stroking her hair.

She’s disturbed and Christian cares about her, that’s all this is,I rationalize. But in the

back of my mind, my subconscious is shaking her head sadly.

It’s more than that. Leila was able to fulfill his needs in a way I cannot. The thought is

depressing.

I try to focus on all we’ve done in the last few days—his declaration of love, his flirty

humor, his playfulness. But Elena’s words keep coming back to taunt me. It’s true what

they say about eavesdroppers.

Don’t you miss it . . . your playroom?

I finish my beer in record time, and Ethan lines up another. I am not much of a com-

panion, but to his credit he stays with me, chatting, trying to lift my spirits, talking about

Barbados, and Kate and Elliot’s antics, which is wonderfully distracting. But it’s just that—

a distraction.

My mind, my heart, my soul are all still in that apartment with my Fifty Shades and the

woman who used to be his submissive. A woman who thinks she still loves him. A woman

who looks like me.

During our third beer, a large cruiser with heavily-tinted windows pulls up next to the

Audi in front of the apartment. I recognize Dr. Flynn as he climbs out, accompanied by

a woman dressed in what look like pale blue scrubs. I glimpse Taylor as he lets them in

through the front door.

“Who’s that?” Ethan asks.

“His name’s Dr. Flynn. Christian knows him.”

“What kind of doctor?”

“A shrink.”

“Oh.”

We both watch, and a few minutes later they are back. Christian is carrying Leila who

is wrapped in a blanket. What?I watch horrified as they all climb into the cruiser, and it

speeds away.

Ethan glances at me sympathetically, and I feel desolate, completely desolate.

“Can I have something a bit stronger?” I ask Ethan, my voice small.

“Sure. What would you like?”

“A brandy. Please.”

Ethan nods and retreats to the bar. I gaze through the window at the front door. Mo-

ments later Taylor emerges, climbs into the Audi, and heads off toward Escala . . . after

Christian? I don’t know.

Ethan places a large brandy in front of me.

“Come on, Steele. Let’s get drunk.”

Sounds like the best offer I’ve had in a while. We clink glasses, and I take a gulp of the

burning amber liquid, the fiery heat a welcome distraction from the hideous blossoming

pain in my heart.

It’s late, and I feel fuzzy. Ethan and I are locked out of the apartment. He insists on