Oh . . . Christian as a kid . . . kickboxing and X Files and no touching.
"You?" he asks.
"Before my time."
Christian smiles fondly up at me. "You're so young. I like making out with you, Mrs. Grey."
"Likewise, Mr. Grey." I kiss his chest, and we lie silently watching as The X-Files finish and the commercials come on.
"It's been a heavenly three weeks. Car chases and fires and psycho ex-bosses notwithstanding. Like being in our own private bubble," I mutter dreamily.
"Hmm," Christian hums deep in his throat. "I'm not sure I'm ready to share you with the rest of the world yet."
"Back to reality tomorrow," I murmur, trying to keep the melancholy from my voice.
Christian sighs and runs the hand that is not holding me through his hair. "Security will be tight - " I put my finger over his lips. I don't want to hear this lecture again.
"I know. I'll be good. I promise." Which reminds me . . . I shift, propping myself up on my elbows to see him better. "Why were you shouting at Sawyer?"
He stiffens immediately. Oh shit.
"Because we were followed."
"That wasn't Sawyer's fault."
He gazes at me levelly. "They should never have let you get so far in front. They know that."
I flush guiltily and resume my position, resting on his chest. It was my fault. I wanted to get away from them.
"That wasn't - "
"Enough!" Christian is suddenly curt. "This is not up for discussion, Anastasia. It's a fact, and they won't let it happen again."
Anastasia! I am Anastasia when I am in trouble just like at home with my mother.
"Okay," I mutter, placating him. I don't want to fight. "Did Ryan catch up with the woman in the Dodge?"
"No. And I'm not convinced it was a woman."
"Oh?" I look up again.
"Sawyer saw someone with their hair tied back, but it was a brief look. He assumed it was a woman. Now, given that you've identified that f**ker, maybe it was him. He wore his hair like that." The disgust in Christian's voice is palpable.
I don't know what to make of this news. Christian runs his hand down my naked back, distracting me.
"If anything happened to you . . . ," he murmurs, his eyes wide and serious.
"I know," I whisper. I feel the same about you." I shiver at the thought.
"Come. You're getting cold," he says, sitting up. "Let's go to bed. We can cover third base there." He smiles a lascivious smile, as mercurial as ever, passionate, angry, anxious, sexy - my Fifty Shades. I take his hand and he pulls me to my feet, and without a stitch on, I follow him through the great room to the bedroom.
The following morning, Christian squeezes my hand as we pull up outside SIP. He looks very much the powerful executive in his dark navy suit and matching tie, and I smile. He's not been this smart since the ballet in Monaco.
"You know you don't have to do this?" Christian murmurs. I am tempted to roll my eyes at him.
"I know," I whisper, not wanting to be overheard by Sawyer and Ryan in the front of the Audi. He frowns and I smile.
"But I want to," I continue. "You know this." I lean up and kiss him. His frown doesn't disappear. "What's wrong?"
He glances uncertainly at Ryan as Sawyer climbs out of the car. "I'll miss having you to myself."
I reach up to caress his face. "Me, too." I kiss him. "It was a wonderful honeymoon. Thank you."
"Go to work, Mrs. Grey."
"You, too, Mr. Grey."
Sawyer opens the door. I squeeze Christian's hand once more before I climb out onto the sidewalk. As I head into the building, I give him a little wave. Sawyer holds open the door and follows me in.
"Hi, Ana." Claire beams from behind the reception desk.
"Claire, hello." I smile back.
"You look wonderful. Good honeymoon?"
"The best, thank you. How's it been here?"
"Old man Roach is the same, but security has been stepped up and our server room is being overhauled. But Hannah will tell you."
Sure she will. I give Claire a friendly smile and head to my office. Hannah is my assistant. She is tall, slim, and ruthlessly efficient to the point that sometimes I find her a little intimidating. But she's sweet to me, in spite of the fact that she's a couple of years older. She has my latte waiting - the only coffee I let her get for me.
"Hi, Hannah," I say warmly.
"Ana, how was your honeymoon?"
"Fantastic. Here - for you." I pop the small bottle of perfume I bought for her onto her desk, and she claps her hands with glee.
"Oh, thank you!" she says enthusiastically. "Your urgent correspondence is on your desk, and Roach would like to see you at ten. That's all I have to report for now."
"Good. Thank you. And thanks for the coffee." Wandering into my office, I rest my briefcase on my desk and gaze at the piled up letters. Jeez, I have a lot to do.
Just before ten there's a timid tap on my door.
"Come in."
Elizabeth looks around the door. "Hi, Ana. I just wanted to say welcome back."
"Hey. I have to say, reading through all this correspondence, I wish I was back in the South of France."
Elizabeth laughs, but her laughter is off, forced, and I c**k my head to one side and gaze at her like Christian does to me.
"Glad you're back safely," she says. "I'll see you in a few minutes, at the meeting with Roach."
"Okay," I murmur, and she shuts the door behind her. I frown at the closed door. What was that about? I shrug it off. My e-mail pings - it's a message from Christian.