Grey
Page 143

 E.l. James

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I note that tomorrow is the gallery opening for your friend’s show, and I’m sure you’ve not had time to purchase a car, and it’s a long drive. I would be more than happy to take you—should you wish.
Let me know.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I watch my inbox.
And watch.
And watch…my anxiety growing with every second that crawls by.
Getting up, I pace the office—but that takes me away from my computer. Back at my desk, I check my e-mail yet again.
Nothing.
To distract myself, I trace my finger along the wings of my glider.
For fuck’s sake, Grey, get a grip.
Come on, Anastasia, answer me. She’s always been so prompt. I check my watch…14:09.
Four minutes!
Still nothing.
Getting up, I pace around my office once more, peering at my watch every three seconds, or so it feels.
By 2:20 I’m in despair. She’s not going to reply. She really does hate me…who could blame her?
Then I hear the ping of an e-mail. My heart leaps into my throat.
Hell! It’s from Ros, telling me she’s gone back to her office.
And then it’s there, in my inbox, the magical line:
From: Anastasia Steele.
 
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:25
To: Christian Grey
Hi Christian
Thank you for the flowers; they are lovely.
Yes, I would appreciate a lift.
Thank you.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
Relief floods through me; I close my eyes, savoring the feeling.
YES!
I pore over her e-mail looking for clues, but as usual I have no idea what the thoughts are behind her words. The tone is friendly enough, but that’s it. Just friendly.
Carpe Diem, Grey.
 
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:27
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Anastasia
What time shall I pick you up?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I don’t have to wait quite so long.
 
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:32
To: Christian Grey
José’s show starts at 7:30. What time would you suggest?
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
We can take Charlie Tango.
 
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:34
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Anastasia
Portland is some distance away. I shall pick you up at 5:45.
I look forward to seeing you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
 
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tomorrow
Date: June 8 2011 14:38
To: Christian Grey
See you then.
Anastasia Steele
Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP
My campaign to win her back is under way. I feel elated; the small blossom of hope is now a Japanese flowering cherry.
I buzz Andrea.
“Miss Bailey went back to her office, Mr. Grey.”
“I know, she e-mailed me. I need Taylor here in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hang up. Anastasia is working for a guy named Jack Hyde. I want to know more about him. I call Ros.
“Christian.” She sounds pissed. Tough.
“Do we have access to the employee files from SIP?”
“Not yet. But I can get them.”
“Please. Today if you can. I want everything they have on Jack Hyde, and anyone who’s worked for him.”
“Can I ask why?”
“No.”
She’s silent for a moment.
“Christian, I don’t know what’s got into you recently.”
“Ros, just do it, okay?”
She sighs. “Okay. Now can we have our meeting about the Taiwan shipyard proposal?”
“Yes. I had an important call to make. It took longer than I thought.”
“I’ll be right up.”
WHEN ROS LEAVES I follow her out of the office.
“WSU next Friday,” I tell Andrea, who scribbles a reminder in her notebook.
“And I get to fly in the company chopper?” Ros bubbles with enthusiasm.
“Helicopter,” I correct her.
“Whatever, Christian.” She rolls her eyes as she enters the elevator, and it makes me smile.
Andrea watches Ros leave, then gives me an expectant look.
“Call Stephan—I’ll be flying Charlie Tango to Portland tomorrow evening, and I’ll need him to fly her back to Boeing Field,” I tell Andrea.
“Yes, Mr. Grey.”
I see no sign of Olivia. “Has she gone?”
“Olivia?” Andrea asks.
I nod.
“Yes.” She seems relieved.
“Where to?”
“Finance.”
“Good thinking. It’ll keep Senator Blandino off my back.”
Andrea looks pleased at the compliment.
“You’re getting someone else to help out here?” I ask.
“Yes, sir. I’m seeing three candidates tomorrow morning.”
“Good. Is Taylor here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Cancel the rest of my meetings today. I’m going out.”
“Out?” she squeaks in surprise.
“Yes.” I grin. “Out.”
“WHERE TO, SIR?” TAYLOR asks, as I stretch out in the back of the SUV.
“The Mac store.”
“On Northeast Forty-Fifth?”
“Yes.” I’m going to buy Ana an iPad. Leaning back in my seat, I close my eyes and contemplate which apps and songs I’m going to download and install for her. I could choose “Toxic.” I smirk at the thought. No, I don’t think that would be popular with her. She’d be mad as hell—and for the first time in a while the thought of her mad makes me smile. Mad like she was in Georgia, not like last Saturday. I shift in my seat; I don’t want to be reminded of that. I turn my thoughts back to potential song choices, feeling more buoyant than I have in days. My phone buzzes, and my heart rate spikes.
Dare I hope?
Hey. Asshole. Beer?
Hell. A text from my brother.
No. Busy.