fifty shades darker (68 page)

Gretchen materializes with a tray of champagne. She’s in a low-cut black dress, no pigtails but an updo, flushing and fluttering her eyelashes at Christian. The applause dies down, and Christian squeezes my hand as all eyes turn to him expectantly.

“Thank you, everyone. Looks like I’ll need one of these.” He grabs two drinks off Gretchen’s tray and gives her a brief smile. I think Gretchen’s going to expire or swoon.

He hands a glass to me.

Christian raises his glass to the rest of the room, and immediately everyone surges forward. Leading the charge is the evil woman in black. Does she ever wear any other color?

“Christian, I was so worried.” Elena gives him a brief hug and kisses both his cheeks.

He doesn’t let me go despite the fact I try to free my hand.

“I’m good, Elena,” Christian mutters coolly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Her plea is desperate, her eyes searching his.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Didn’t you get my messages?”

Christian shifts uncomfortably and pulls me closer, putting his arm around me. His face remains impassive as he regards Elena. She can no longer ignore me, so she nods politely in my direction.

“Ana,” she purrs. “You look lovely, dear.”

“Elena,” I purr back. “Thank you.”

I catch Grace’s eye. She frowns, watching the three of us.

“Elena, I need to make an announcement,” Christian says, eyeing her dispassionately.

Her clear blue eyes cloud. “Of course.” She fakes a smile and steps back.

“Everyone,” Christian calls. He waits for a moment until the buzz in the room dies down and all eyes are once more on him.

“Thank you for coming today. I have to say I was expecting a quiet family dinner, so this is a pleasant surprise.” He stares pointedly at Mia, who grins and gives him a little wave. Christian shakes his head in exasperation and continues.

“Ros and I”—he acknowledges the red-haired woman standing nearby with a small bubbly blonde—“we had a close call yesterday.”

Oh, that’s the Ros that works with him. She grins and raises her glass to him. He nods back at her.

“So I’m especially glad to be here today to share with all of you my very good news.

This beautiful woman”—he glances down at me—“Miss Anastasia Rose Steele, has consented to be my wife, and I’d like you to be the first to know.”

There are general gasps of astonishment, the odd cheer, and then a round of applause!

Jeez—this is really happening. I think I am the color of Kate’s dress. Christian grasps my chin, lifts my lips to his, and kisses me quickly.

“You’ll soon be mine.”

“I am already,” I whisper.

“Legally,” he mouths at me and gives me a wicked grin.

Lily, who is standing beside Mia, looks crestfallen; Gretchen looks like she’s eaten something nasty and bitter. As I glance anxiously around at the assembled crowd, I catch sight of Elena. Her mouth is open. She’s stunned—horrified even, and I can’t help a small but intense feeling of satisfaction to see her dumbstruck. What the hell is she doing here, anyway?

Carrick and Grace interrupt my uncharitable thoughts, and soon I am being hugged and kissed and passed around by all the Greys.

“Oh, Ana—I am so delighted you’re going to be family,” Grace gushes. “The change in Christian . . . He’s . . . happy. I am so thankful to you.” I blush, embarrassed by her exuber-ance but secretly delighted, too.

“Where is the ring?” exclaims Mia as she embraces me.

“Um . . .”
A ring! Jeez.
I hadn’t even thought about a ring. I glance anxiously up at Christian.

“We’re going to choose one together.” Christian glowers at her.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Grey!” she scolds him, then wraps her arms around him. “I’m so thrilled for you, Christian,” she says. She’s the only person I know who is not intimidated by the Grey glower. It has me quailing . . . Well, it certainly used to.

“When will you get married? Have you set a date?” She beams up at Christian.

He shakes his head, his exasperation palpable. “No idea, and no we haven’t. Ana and I need to discuss all that,” he says irritably.

“I hope you have a big wedding—here,” she beams enthusiastically, ignoring his caus-tic tone.

“We’ll probably fly to Vegas tomorrow,” he growls at her, and he’s rewarded with a full-on Mia Grey pouty grimace. Rolling his eyes, he turns to Elliot, who gives him his second bear hug in as many days.

“Way to go, bro.” He claps Christian’s back.

The response from the room is overwhelming, and it’s a few minutes before I find myself back beside Christian with Dr. Flynn. Elena seems to have disappeared, and Gretchen is sullenly refilling champagne glasses.

Beside Dr. Flynn is a striking young woman with long, dark, almost black hair, cleavage, and lovely hazel eyes.

“Christian,” says Flynn, holding out his hand. Christian shakes it gladly.

“John. Rhian.” He kisses the dark-haired woman on her cheek. She’s petite and pretty.

“Glad you’re still with us, Christian. My life would be most dull—and penurious—

without you.”

Christian smirks.

“John!” Rhian scolds, much to Christian’s amusement.

“Rhian, this is Anastasia, my fiancée. Ana, this is John’s wife.”

“Delighted to meet the woman who has finally captured Christian’s heart.” Rhian smiles kindly at me.

“Thank you,” I mutter, embarrassed again.

“That was one googly you bowled there, Christian,” Dr. Flynn shakes his head in amused disbelief. Christian frowns at him.

“John—you and your cricket metaphors.” Rhian rolls her eyes. “Congratulations to the pair of you and happy birthday, Christian. What a wonderful birthday present.” She smiles broadly at me.

I had no idea Dr. Flynn would be here, or Elena. It’s a shock, and I rack my brains to see if I have anything to ask him, but a birthday party hardly seems the appropriate venue for a psychiatric consult.

For a few minutes, we make small talk. Rhian is a stay-at-home mom with two young boys. I deduce that she is the reason Dr. Flynn practices in the US.

“She’s good, Christian, responding well to treatment. Another couple of weeks and we can consider an out-patient program.” Dr. Flynn’s and Christian’s voices are low, but I can’t help listening in, rather rudely tuning out Rhian.

“So it’s all play-dates and diapers at the moment . . .”

“That must take up your time.” I flush, turning my attention back to Rhian, who laughs sweetly. I know Christian and Flynn are discussing Leila.

“Ask her something for me,” Christian murmurs.

“So what do you do, Anastasia?”

“Ana, please. I work in publishing.”

Christian and Dr. Flynn lower their voices further; it’s so frustrating. But they stop when we’re joined by the two women I didn’t recognize earlier—Ros and the bubbly blonde whom Christian introduces as her partner, Gwen.

Ros is charming, and I soon discover they live almost opposite Escala. She is full of praise for Christian’s piloting skills. It was her first time in Charlie Tango, and she says she wouldn’t hesitate to go again. She’s one of the few women I’ve met who isn’t dazzled by him . . . well, the reason is obvious.

Gwen is giggly with a wry sense of humor, and Christian seems extraordinarily at ease with both of them. He knows them well. They don’t discuss work, but I can tell that Ros is one smart woman who can easily keep up with him. She also has a great, throaty, too-many-cigarettes laugh.

Grace interrupts our leisurely conversation to inform everyone that dinner is being served buffet-style in the Grey kitchen. Slowly the guests make their way toward the back of the house.

Mia collars me in the hallway. In her pale pink, frothy babydoll dress and killer heels, she towers over me like a Christmas tree fairy. She’s holding two cocktail glasses.

“Ana,” she hisses conspiratorially. I glance up at Christian, who releases me with a best-of-luck-I-find-her-impossible-to-deal-with-too look, and I sneak into the dining room with her.

“Here,” she says mischievously. “This is one of my dad’s special lemon martinis—

much nicer than champagne.” She hands me a glass and watches anxiously while I take a tentative sip.

“Hmm . . . delicious. But strong.” What does she want? Is she trying to get me drunk?

“Ana, I need some advice. And I can’t ask Lily—she’s so judgmental about everything.” Mia rolls her eyes then grins at me. “She is so jealous of you. I think she was hoping one day that she and Christian might get together.” Mia bursts out laughing at the absurdity, and I quail inside.

This is something I will have to contend with for a long time—other women wanting my man. I push the unwelcome thought out of my head and distract myself with the matter in hand. I take another sip of my martini.

“I’ll try and help. Fire away.”

“As you know, Ethan and I met recently, thanks to you.” She beams at me.

“Yes.” Where the hell is she going with this?

“Ana—he doesn’t want to date me.” She pouts.

“Oh.” I blink at her, stunned, and I think,
Maybe he’s just not that into you.

“Look, that sounded all wrong. He doesn’t want to date because his sister is going out with my brother. You know—he thinks it’s all kind of incestuous. But I know he likes me.

What can I do?”

“Oh, I see,” I mutter, trying to buy myself some time. What can I say? “Can you agree to be friends and give it some time? I mean you’ve only just met him.”

She cocks her eyebrow and I flush.

“Look, I know I’ve only really just met Christian but . . .” I scowl at her not sure what I want to say. “Mia, this is something you and Ethan have to work out together. I would try the friendship route.”

Mia grins.

“You’ve learned that look from Christian.”

I flush. “If you want advice, ask Kate. She may have some insight as to how her brother feels.”

“You think?” Mia asks.

“Yes.” I smile encouragingly.

“Cool. Thanks, Ana.” She gives me another hug and scuttles excitedly—and impressively, given her high heels—to the door, no doubt off to bother Kate. I take another sip of my martini, and I’m about to follow her when I am stopped in my tracks.

Elena breezes into the room, her face taut, set in grim, angry determination. She closes the door quietly behind her and scowls at me.

Oh crap.

“Ana,” she sneers.

I summon all my self-possession, slightly fuzzy from two glasses of champagne and the lethal cocktail I hold in my hand. I think the blood has drained from my face, but I marshal both my subconscious and my inner goddess in order to appear as calm and as unflappable as I can.

“Elena.” My voice is small, but steady—despite my dry mouth. Why does this woman freak me out so much? And what does she want now?

“I would offer you my heartfelt congratulations, but I think that would be inappropriate.” Her piercing cold blue eyes stare frostily into mine, filled with loathing.

“I neither need nor want your congratulations, Elena. I’m surprised and disappointed to see you here.”

She arches an eyebrow. I think she’s impressed.

“I wouldn’t have thought of you as a worthy adversary, Anastasia. But you surprise me at every turn.”

“I haven’t thought of you at all,” I lie, coolly. Christian would be proud. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have much better things to do than waste my time with you.”

“Not so fast, missy,” she hisses, leaning against the door, effectively blocking it. “What on earth do you think you’re doing, consenting to marry Christian? If you think for one minute you can make him happy, you’re very much mistaken.”

“What I’m consenting to do with Christian is none of your concern.” I smile with sar-castic sweetness. She ignores me.

“He has needs—needs you cannot possibly begin to satisfy,” she gloats.

“What do you know of his needs?” I snarl. My sense of indignation flares brightly, burning inside me as adrenaline surges through my body. How dare this fucking bitch preach to me? “You’re nothing but a sick child molester, and if it was up to me, I’d toss you into the seventh circle of hell and walk away smiling. Now get out of my way—or do I have to make you?”

“You’re making a big mistake here, lady.” She shakes a long, skinny, finely manicured finger at me. “How dare you judge our lifestyle? You know nothing, and you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. And if you think he’s going to be happy with a mousy little gold-digger like you . . .”

That’s it!
I throw the rest of my lemon martini in her face, drenching her.

“Don’t you dare tell me what I’m getting myself into!” I shout at her. “When will you learn? It’s none of your goddamned business!”

She gapes at me, horror struck, wiping the sticky drink off her face. I think she’s about to lunge at me, but she’s suddenly shunted forward as the door opens.

Christian is standing in the doorway. It takes him a nanosecond to assess the situation—me ashen and shaking, her soaked and livid. His lovely face darkens and contorts with anger as he comes to stand between us.

“What the fuck are you doing, Elena?” he says, his voice glacial and laced with menace.She blinks up at him. “She’s not right for you, Christian,” she whispers.

“What?” he shouts, startling both of us. I can’t see his face but his whole body has tensed, and he radiates animosity.

“How the fuck do you know what’s right for me?”

“You have needs, Christian,” she says her voice softer.

“I’ve told you before—this is none of your fucking business,” he roars. Oh crap—Very Angry Christian has reared his not-so-ugly head. People are going to hear.

“What is this?” He pauses, glaring at her. “Do you think it’s you? You? You think you’re right for me?” His voice is softer but drips contempt, and suddenly I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to witness this intimate encounter. I’m intruding. But I’m stuck—my limbs unwilling to move.

Elena swallows and seems to draw herself upright. Her stance changes subtly, becomes more commanding, and she steps toward him.

“I was the best thing that ever happened to you,” she hisses arrogantly at him. “Look at you now. One of the richest, most successful, entrepreneurs in the US—controlled, driven—you need nothing. You are master of your universe.”