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“Me, too.”
With my father’s reluctant agreement secured, I phone Welch back to implement enhanced security measures for my family.
I just have to tell Elliot. I don’t know how he’ll take the news.
When I look at my e-mails I notice the one I sent to Ana has bounced. Maybe she hasn’t had a chance to change her e-mail address at work.
Let’s have some fun with this.
I forward the e-mail I sent her.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Errant Wives
Date: August 22 2011 09:56
To: Anastasia Steele
Wife
I sent the e-mail below and it bounced.
And it’s because you haven’t changed your name.
Something you want to tell me?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Andrea knocks on the door with another coffee.
“Thanks, Andrea. Shall we go through the schedule?”
She takes the chair opposite my desk and we discuss my appointments for the week and the coming month.
“…You have the Seattle Assistance Union Gala for Hope on Wednesday evening, I have two tickets. Your mother is involved with that charity,” she says.
“Okay.”
“And the Telecommunications Alliance Organization fundraiser is on Thursday evening in New York,” Andrea continues. “I have tickets for two. The Gulfstream will be back. Everything has checked out. Stephan is flying in from Maine tomorrow.”
“My plans aren’t set yet. I’ll talk to Ros to see if a visit to GEH Fiber Optics is still required.”
“Okay. Stephan will be on standby should you decide to go. And I’ll have your Tribeca apartment serviced, too, unless you’d like me to make a reservation at The Lowell.”
My mind whirrs. “If I do go to New York, then I could come back via DC. There are two meetings we could set up for Friday, one with the Securities and Exchange Commission, the other with Senator Blandino.”
“Do you want me to arrange those?”
“I’ll talk to Vanessa about the Securities and Exchange Commission. But provisionally yes for Blandino.”
“Sir.”
“Okay. I should see Ros, and can you get Flynn on the line for me? Oh, and find time for Bastille tomorrow. Please.”
“Will do.” She gets up and leaves, and I turn my attention to my computer. An e-mail from Ana arrived a short while ago.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Don’t Burst the Bubble
Date: August 22 2011 09:58
To: Christian Grey
Husband
I am all for a baseball metaphor with you, Mr. Grey.
I want to keep my name here.
I’ll explain this evening.
I am going into a meeting now.
Miss our bubble, too…
PS: Thought I had to use my BlackBerry?
Anastasia Steele
Editor, SIP
I stare at her e-mail.
She’s not going to take my name.
She’s. Not. Going. To. Take. My. Name.
Why?
She doesn’t want my name.
Not now, Maggot.
It’s a gut punch.
I gape at the screen, shocked and momentarily paralyzed.
Don’t fight, Maggot!
Why didn’t she tell me? This is how I find out?
Damn it. To hell with this.
I’m going to get her to change her mind.
Like you did about her obeying you, Grey?
My phone buzzes. It’s Andrea. “Ros is on the way up.”
“Thanks. Send her in when she gets here.”
I don’t know what to say to Ana, so I push her e-mail from my thoughts and await my meeting with my chief operating officer.
Ros is in sparkling form. She sails through a concise agenda and brings me up to speed on everything within an hour.
“You’ve done a great job,” I tell her.
“Christian, I’ve loved it. But in all honesty, I missed you.”
I smile, because I don’t know how I should react. I’m not used to compliments from my staff. “In all honesty, I can’t say the same,” I reply.
She grins. “That’s as it should be. I’m sure you had a wonderful time.”
“I did, thank you.”
Except my wife doesn’t want my name.
She gives me a brief speculative look, but I force a smile. “I’ll get on to the Detroit people,” she says, “and I’ll give Hassan a call about whether you need to visit the New York operation this week.”
“Thursday would be good if they need me to go.”
“I’ll let you know.”
After she’s gone, I reread Ana’s e-mail. It’s as discouraging as it was the first time I read it. While I’m contemplating how to respond, Andrea puts Flynn through.
“Christian. Welcome back. How was your honeymoon?” He sounds hale and hearty, and very British. He must have been back to the UK recently.
“Good. Thanks.”
He hesitates, and I know he senses something’s wrong.
“Can I come and see you?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, but my schedule is full today.”
When I don’t respond, he sighs. “Janet, my secretary, will kill me, but I can squeeze you in at lunchtime, though you’ll have to watch me eating my cheese-and-pickle sandwiches.”
“Okay. What time is that?”
“Twelve thirty.”
“I’ll see you then.” I hang up and call Elliot to give him the full story on Hyde and brief him about security.
“What a fucker!” Elliot sneers.
“Yes. That’s him in a nutshell. Don’t tell Kate about this. I know what a newshound she is.”
“Dude—” Elliot protests, but I cut him off.
“Elliot, I don’t want to argue. She’s tenacious. I met my wife because of Kate’s constant badgering, and I don’t want her fucking up the police investigation by becoming involved.”
