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  Her eyes on me.

  God, I love her.

  I move faster. Loving her. The only way I really know how.

  Her mouth opens, slack, wide, beautiful. And her legs tense around me.

  This is going to be quick.

  And she comes around me, taking me with her.

  She calls out through her climax.

  "Yes, Ana!" I cry. And come and come and come.

  I collapse on her, release her hands, and rest my head on her chest. I close my eyes. She cradles my head, running her fingers through my hair as I catch my breath. I look up at her. "I'm not finished with you yet," I whisper, and I kiss her and disengage myself.

  Hastily, I do up my fly and lift her off the table.

  We stand in the foyer holding each other. We're under the careful watch of the women in my Madonna and Child paintings that line the walls.

  I think they approve of my girl.

  "Bed," I whisper.

  "Please," she says. And I take her to bed and make love to her once more.

  SHE COMES, RIDING ME hard, and I hold her upright as I watch her spiral out of control.

  Fuck, it's erotic.

  She's naked, her breasts bouncing, and I let go, climaxing inside her, my head back, my fingers digging into her hips. She flops down on my chest, panting hard.

  As I recover my breath, I run my fingers down her back, dewy with her sweat.

  "Satisfied, Miss Steele?"

  She mumbles her agreement. Then she looks up at me; her expression is a little dazed, but she angles her head.

  Shit. She's going to kiss my chest.

  I take a deep breath and she plants a soft, warm kiss on my chest.

  It's okay. The darkness is quiet. Or gone. I don't know.

  I relax and roll us onto our sides.

  "Is sex like this for everyone? I'm surprised anyone ever goes out," she says, with a sated smile.

  She makes me feel ten feet tall. "I can't speak for everyone, but it's pretty damned special with you, Anastasia." My lips touch hers.

  "That's because you're pretty damned special, Mr. Grey." She caresses my face.

  "It's late. Go to sleep." I kiss her and pull her to me so that we're spooning, her back to my front, and I tug up the comforter.

  "You don't like compliments." Her voice is drifting. She's tired.

  No. I'm not used to them.

  "Go to sleep, Anastasia."

  "I loved the house," she mutters.

  That means she might say yes. I grin into her hair and nuzzle her. "I love you. Go to sleep."

  And I close my eyes as her scent fills my nostrils.

  A house. A wife. What more do I need? Please say yes, Ana.

  FRIDAY, JUNE 17, 2011

  * * *

  Ana's cry drags me from my sleep. Opening my eyes, I wake. She's beside me and I think she's asleep. "Flying too close," she whimpers. The early-morning light bleeds pink and bright between the blinds, illuminating her hair. "Icarus," she says.

  Leaning up on my elbow, I check to see if she's asleep. I haven't heard her talk in her sleep for a while. She turns over so that she's facing me. "Benefit of the doubt," she says. And her face relaxes.

  Benefit of the doubt?

  Is this about me?

  She said it yesterday. She said she was going to give me the benefit of the doubt.

  It's more than I deserve.

  Much more than you deserve, Grey.

  I plant a chaste kiss on her forehead, switch off the alarm before it wakes her, and get out of bed. I have an early-morning meeting to discuss Kavanagh's fiber-optic requirements.

  In the shower, I think about my schedule for the day. I have Kavanagh. Then I fly down to WSU via Portland with Ros. Drinks in the evening with Ana and her photographer friend.

  And I'll put an offer on that house today. Ana says she loved it. I grin as I rinse the shampoo from my hair.

  Just give her time, Grey.

  IN MY CLOSET, I slip on my pants and notice my jacket from yesterday slung over the chair. I fish through the pockets and grab Ana's present. It still produces a tantalizing rattle.

  I slip it into my inside pocket, pleased that it will rest close to my heart.

  You're getting sentimental in your old age, Grey.

  SHE'S STILL CURLED UP asleep when I check on her before I leave. "Gotta go, baby." I kiss her neck. She opens her eyes and turns over to face me. In her drowsy state, she smiles up at me, then her expression changes.

  "What time is it?"

  "Don't panic. I have a breakfast meeting."

  "You smell good," she whispers. She stretches out beneath me and encircles my neck with her hands. Her fingers trail in my hair. "Don't go."

  "Miss Steele, are you trying to keep a man from an honest day's work?"

  She gives me a sleepy nod, her eyes a little dazed. Desire blooms in my body; she looks so damn sexy. Her smile is captivating and it takes all my self-control not to strip off my clothes and slip back into bed. "As tempting as you are, I have to go." I kiss her and stand. "Laters, baby." I leave before I change my mind and cancel the meeting.

  Taylor looks troubled when I join him in the garage.

  "Mr. Grey. I have a problem."

  "What is it?"

  "My ex-wife called. My daughter may have appendicitis."

  "Is she in the hospital?"

  "They're admitting her now."

  "You should go."

  "Thank you. I'll drop you at work first."

  "Thanks. I appreciate it."

  TAYLOR IS DEEP IN thought when we pull up outside Grey House.

  "Let me know how she is."

  "I may not be back until tomorrow morning."

  "It's fine. Go. I hope Sophie's okay."

  "Thank you, sir."

  I watch him zoom off. He's seldom preoccupied...but this is family. Yes. Family comes first. Always.

  Andrea is waiting for me when I step out of the elevator.

  "Good morning, Mr. Grey. Taylor called. I'll arrange a driver for you here and in Portland."

  "Good. Everyone here?

  "Yes. In your boardroom."

  "Great. Thanks, Andrea."

  THE MEETING GOES WELL. Kavanagh looks refreshed, no doubt from his recent vacation in Barbados, where he met my brother for the first time. He says he likes him. Considering Elliot's fucking his daughter, that's a good thing.

  When they left, Kavanagh and his people seemed satisfied with our conversation. Now all that remains is to haggle over the price of the contract. Ros will have to take the lead on that with cost projections from Fred's division.

  Andrea has laid out the usual breakfast spread; I grab a croissant and head back to my office with Ros. "What time do you want to leave?" Ros asks me.

  "Our driver will pick us up at ten."

  "I'll see you in the foyer downstairs," Ros confirms. "I'm excited. I've never been in a helicopter."

  Her grin is infectious.

  "I found a house yesterday and I want to buy it. Will you handle the details?"

  "As your lawyer, sure, of course I will."

  "Thanks. I owe you."

  "You will." She laughs. "See you downstairs."

  I stand alone inside my office, feeling elated. I'm buying a house. The Kavanagh contract will be a great boost to the company. And I had a wonderful evening with my girl. At my desk, I send her an e-mail.

  * * *

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Surfaces

  Date: June 17 2011 08:59

  To: Anastasia Steele

  I calculate that there are at least 30 surfaces to go. I am looking forward to each and every one of them. Then there's the floors, the walls--and let's not forget the balcony.

  After that there's my office...

  Miss you. x

  Christian Grey

  Priapic CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  I take a look around my office. Yes, there's a lot of potential here: the sofa, the desk. Andrea kno
cks on the door and enters with my coffee. I marshal my wayward thoughts, and my body.

  She places the coffee on my desk. "More coffee."

  "Thank you. Can you get the realtor for the house I saw yesterday on the line?"

  "Sure thing, sir."

  My discussion with Olga Kelly is brief. We agree on a price to take back to the seller, and I give her Ros's details so we can move quickly with inspections if the offer is accepted.

  I check my e-mail. And I'm pleased to see a response from Ana to my earlier missive.

  * * *

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: Romance?

  Date: June 17 2011 09:03

  To: Christian Grey

  Mr. Grey

  You have a one-track mind.

  I missed you at breakfast.

  But Mrs. Jones was very accommodating.

  A x

  Accommodating?

  * * *

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Intrigued

  Date: June 17 2011 09:07

  To: Anastasia Steele

  What was Mrs. Jones accommodating about?

  What are you up to, Miss Steele?

  Christian Grey

  Curious CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  * * *

  From: Anastasia Steele

  Subject: Tapping Nose

  Date: June 17 2011 09:10

  To: Christian Grey

  Wait and see--it's a surprise.

  I need to work...let me be.

  Love you.

  A x

  * * *

  From: Christian Grey

  Subject: Frustrated

  Date: June 17 2011 09:12

  To: Anastasia Steele

  I hate it when you keep things from me.

  Christian Grey

  CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  * * *

  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

  Another surprise? When I pat down my jacket pocket, I'm reassured by the presence of the box that Ana's given me.

  She's spoiling me.

  ROS AND I ARE in the car on the way to Boeing Field. My phone flashes. It's a text from Elliot.

  ELLIOT

  Hey, asshole. Bar. This evening.

  Kate's getting in touch with Ana.

  You'd better be there.

  Where are you?

  ELLIOT

  Layover Atlanta

  Missed me?

  No.

  ELLIOT

  Yeah you have. Well I'm back and

  you're getting your beer on tonight Bro.

  It's been a while since I went drinking with my brother and at least I won't be alone with Ana and her photographer friend.

  If you insist.

  Safe travels.

  ELLIOT

  Laters dude.

  Our flight to Portland is uneventful, though it's a revelation how giddy Ros can be. She's like a kid in a candy store during the flight. Fidgeting. Pointing. Nonstop commentary on everything she sees. It's a side of Ros I never knew existed. Where's the cool, collected lawyer I know? I'm reminded how quietly appreciative Ana was when I first took her up in Charlie Tango.

  When we land, I pick up a voice mail from the realtor. The seller has accepted my offer. They must want a quick sale.

  "What?" asks Ros.

  "I've just bought that house."

  "Congratulations."

  AFTER A LENGTHY MEETING with the president and vice president of economic development at WSU in Vancouver, Ros and I are in conversation with Professor Gravett and her postgraduate team. The professor is in full flow. "We've been able to isolate the DNA of the microbe that's responsible for nitrogen fixation."

  "What does that mean, exactly?" I ask.

  "In layman's terms, Mr. Grey, nitrogen fixation is essential for soil diversity, and as you know, diverse soils recover from shocks like drought far more quickly. We can now study how to activate the DNA in the microbes that live in the soil in the sub-Saharan region. In a nutshell, we'll be able to get the soil to hold its nutrients for far longer, making it more productive per hectare."

  "Our results will be published in the Soil Science Society of America Journal in a couple of months. We're sure to double our funding once the article comes out," Professor Choudury says. "And we'll need to get your input on potential funding sources that align with your philanthropic objectives."

  "Of course," I say, offering my support. "As you know, I think your work here should be shared broadly to benefit as many people as possible."

  "We've kept that goal front and center in all that we're doing."

  "Good to hear."

  The president of the university nods in agreement. "We're very excited about this discovery."

  "It is quite the achievement. Congratulations, Professor Gravett, and to your team."

  She glows in response to the compliment. "Thanks to you."

  Embarrassed, I glance at Ros, and it's as if she can read my mind. "We should be going," she says to the group, and we push our chairs back.

  The president shakes my hand. "Thank you for your continued support, Mr. Grey. As you've seen, your contribution to the environmental sciences department makes a huge difference to us."

  "Keep up the good work," I say. I'm anxious to get back to Seattle. The photographer will be delivering those photographs to Escala, and then seeing Ana. I'm fighting my jealous impulses and, so far, successfully keeping them under control. But I will be happier when we set back down at Boeing Field and I join them both at the bar. In the meantime, I have a surprise for Ros.

  OUR TAKEOFF IS SMOOTH; I pull back the collective and Charlie Tango ascends like a graceful bird into the air above the Portland heliport. Ros smiles with girlish delight. I shake my head; I had no idea she could be this excitable, but then again, I always feel a rush on takeoff. Once I've finished talking to the tower, Ros's disembodied voice asks over my headset, "How is your private merger going?"

  "Good, thanks."

  "Hence the house?"

  "Yeah. Something like that."

  She nods and we fly in silence over Vancouver and WSU, homebound toward my goal.

  "Did you know Andrea was getting married?" I ask her. This has bothered me since I found out.

  "No. When?"

  "Last weekend."

  "She kept that quiet." Ros sounds surprised.

  "She says that she didn't tell me because of our non-fraternization policy. I didn't know we had one."

  "It's a standard clause within our employment contracts."

  "Seems a little harsh."

  "She's married someone in-house?"

  "Damon Parker."

  "Engineering?"

  "Yes. Can we help him with a green card? I believe he's on an H-1B visa at the moment."

  "I'll look into it. Though I'm not sure there are any shortcuts."

  "I'd appreciate it, and I have a surprise for you." I veer a few degrees northeast and we fly for about ten minutes. "There!" I point toward the barnacle on the horizon that will become Mount St. Helens as we get closer.

  Ros actually squeals with delight. "You changed the flight plan?"

  "Just for you."

  As we fly nearer, the mountain looms over the landscape. It looks like a child's drawing of a volcano, tipped with snow, craggy at the top, and nestled within the lush green forest of Gifford National Park.

  "Wow! It's so much bigger than I thought," says Ros as we get nearer.

  It's an impressive sight.

  I bank slowly and we circle the crater, which is no longer complete. The north wall has gone, a casualty of the 1980 eruption. It looks eerily deserted and otherworldly from up here; the scars of the last eruption are still obvious, running down the mountain, displac
ing the forest and defacing the landscape beneath it.

  "This is amazing. Gwen and I have been meaning to bring the kids to see this place. I wonder if it will erupt again?" Ros speculates, as she snaps photos with her phone.

  "I have no idea, but let's head home now that you've seen it."

  "Good idea, and thank you." Ros gives me a grateful smile, her eyes shining.

  I veer west following the South Fork Toutle River. We should be back at Boeing Field in forty-five minutes, which will give me plenty of time to join Ana, the photographer, and Elliot for drinks.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see the master caution light flicker.

  What the fuck?

  The fire light in the engine T-handle flashes, and Charlie Tango dips.

  Shit. We have a fire in engine one. I take a deep breath but smell nothing. Quickly, I execute an S-turn to see if I can see smoke. A trail of gray fog lingers in our flight path.

  "What's wrong? What is it?" Ros asks.

  "I don't want you to panic. We have a fire in one of the engines."

  "What!" She clutches her purse and her seat. I shut engine number one down and blow the first fire bottle while deciding whether to land or carry on with one engine. Charlie Tango is equipped to fly with a single engine...

  I want to get home.

  I give the landscape a quick sweep, looking for a safe place to land, should we need to. We're a little low, but I can see a lake in the distance--Silver Lake, I think. It's clear of trees at the southeast end.

  I'm about to radio a distress signal when the second engine fire light flashes.

  Motherfucking hell!

  My anxiety balloons and I clench my fingers around the collective.

  Fuck. Focus, Grey.

  Smoke filters into the cabin and I open my windows and quickly check all the instrument stats. The dash is lighting up like fucking Christmas. And it may be that the electronics are failing. I have no choice. We're going to have to land. And I have a split second to decide whether to kill the engine or keep it going to get us down.

  I hope to Christ I can do this. Sweat beads on my brow and I dash it away with my hand. "Hang on, Ros. This is going to get rough."