second-guessing her decisions and put the dark days of Husband Number Three behind us

both. Bob is a keeper. And she’s giving me good advice. When did that start happening?

Since I met Christian. Why is that?

When I’m done, I dry myself quickly, keen to get back to Christian. There’s an email

waiting for me, sent just after I left for dinner a few hours ago.

From:Christian Grey

Subject:Plagiarism

Date:May 31 2011 16:41

To:Anastasia Steele

You stole my line.

And left me hanging.

Enjoy your dinner.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Who are you to cry thief?

Date:May 31 2011 22:18 EST

To:Christian Grey

Sir, I think you’ll find it was Elliot’s line originally.

Hanging how?

Your Ana

From:Christian Grey

Subject:Unfinished Business

Date:May 31 2011 19:22

To:Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele

You’re back. You left so suddenly - just when things were getting interesting.

Elliot’s not very original. He’ll have stolen that line from someone.

How was dinner?

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Fifty Shades of Grey _133.jpg

Fifty Shades of Grey _134.jpg

Fifty Shades of Grey _135.jpg

Fifty Shades of Grey _136.jpg

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Unfinished Business?

Date:May 31 2011 22:26 EST

To:Christian Grey

Dinner was filling – you’ll be very pleased to hear, I ate far too much.

Getting interesting? How?

From:Christian Grey

Subject:Unfinished Business - definitely

Date:May 31 2011 19:30

To:Anastasia Steele

Are you being deliberately obtuse? I think you’d just asked me to unzip your dress.

And I was looking forward to doing just that. I am also glad to hear you are eating.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Well… there’s always the weekend

Date:May 31 2011 22:36 EST

To:Christian Grey

Of course I eat… It’s only the uncertainty I feel around you that puts me off my food.

And I would never be unwittingly obtuse, Mr. Grey.

Surely you’ve worked that out by now ;)

From:Christian Grey

Subject:Can’t Wait

Date:May 31 2011 19:40

To:Anastasia Steele

I shall remember that, Miss Steele, and no doubt use the knowledge to my advantage.

I’m sorry to hear that I put you off your food. I thought I had a more concupiscent effect

on you. That has been my experience, and most pleasurable it has been too.

I very much look forward to the next time.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Gymnastic Linguistics

Date:May 31 2011 22:36 EST

To:Christian Grey

Fifty Shades of Grey _137.jpg

Have you been playing with the thesaurus again?

From:Christian Grey

Subject:Rumbled

Date:May 31 2011 19:40

To:Anastasia Steele

You know me so well Miss Steele.

I am having dinner with an old friend now so I will be driving.

Laters, baby©

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Which old friend?I didn’t think Christian had any old friends, except… her. I frown at the screen. Why does he have to still see her? Searing, green, bilious jealousy courses through

me unexpectedly. I want to hit something, preferably Mrs. Robinson. Switching the laptop

off in a temper, I clamber into bed.

I should really respond to his long email from this morning, but I’m suddenly too

angry. Why can’t he see her for what she is – a child molester? I switch off the light,

seething, staring into the darkness. How dare she? How dare she pick on a vulnerable

adolescent? Is she still doing it? Why did they stop? Various scenarios filter through my

mind: he had had enough, then why is he still friends with her? Ditto her – is she mar-

ried? Divorced? Jeez – does she have children of her own? Does she have Christian’s

children?My subconscious rears her ugly head, leering, and I’m shocked and nauseous at

the thought. Does Dr. Flynn know about her?

I struggle out of bed and fire the mean machine up again. I am on a mission. I drum

my fingers impatiently waiting for the blue screen to appear. I hit Google images and

enter ‘Christian Grey’ into the search engine. The screen is suddenly littered with images

of Christian: in black tie, be-suited, jeez – José’s pictures from the Heathman, in his white

shirt and flannel trousers. How did they get on the Internet? Boy he looks good.

I move quickly on: some with business associates, then picture after glorious picture

of the most photogenic man I know, intimately. Intimately? Do I know Christian inti-

mately?I know him sexually, and I figure there’s a lot more to discover there. I know he’s

moody, difficult, funny, cold, warm… jeez, the man is a walking mass of contradictions. I

click to the next page. He’s still on his own in all these photographs, and I remember Kate

mentioning that she couldn’t find any photographs of him with a date, prompting her gay

question. Then, on the third page, there’s a picture of me, with him, at my graduation. His

only picture with a woman, and it’s me.

Holy cow! I’m on Google!I stare at us together. I look surprised by the camera,

nervous, off balance. This was just before I agreed to try. For his part, Christian looks

impossibly handsome, calm and collected, and he’s wearing that tie.I gaze at him, such a

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beautiful face, a beautiful face that could be staring at Mrs. Damned Robinson right now. I

save the picture in my favorites and click through all eighteen screens… nothing. I won’t

find Mrs. Robinson on Google. But I have to know if he’s with her. I type a quick email

to Christian.

From:Anastasia Steele

Subject:Suitable Dinner Companions

Date:May 31 2011 23:58 EST

To:Christian Grey

I hope you and your friend had a very pleasant dinner.

Ana

PS Was it Mrs. Robinson?

I press send and climb despondently back into bed, resolving to ask Christian about his re-

lationship with that woman. Part of me is desperate to know more, and another part wants

to forget he ever told me. And my period has started, so I must remember to take my pill

in the morning. I quickly program an alarm into the calendar on my BlackBerry. Setting

it aside on the bedside table, I lie down and eventually drift into an uneasy sleep, wishing

that we were in the same city, not two and half thousand miles apart.

After a morning of shopping and an afternoon back at the beach, my mother has decreed

we should spend the evening in a bar. Abandoning Bob to the TV, we find ourselves in the

up-market bar of Savannah’s most exclusive hotel. I am on my second Cosmopolitan. My

mother is on her third. She is offering more insights into the fragile male ego. It’s very


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