Fifty Shades Darker (book 5)

Chapter 90



Chapter 90

A+A++

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Her response is almost as immediate.

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Grown Up

Date: June 13 2011 10:48

To: Christian Grey

Christian

I don’t need protecting from my own boss.

He may make a pass at me, but I would say no.

You cannot interfere. It’s wrong and controlling on so many levels.

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP

“Controlling” is my middle name, Ana. I think I’ve told you this already, along with “unreasonable”

and “weird.”

* * *

From: Christian Grey

Subject: The Answer is NO

Date: June 13 2011 10:50

To: Anastasia Steele

Ana

I have seen how “effective” you are at fighting off unwanted attention. I remember that’s how I had

the pleasure of spending my first night with you. At least the photographer has feelings for you. The

sleazeball, on the other hand, does not. He is a serial philanderer, and he will try to seduce you. Ask

him what happened to his previous PA and the one before that.

I don’t want to fight about this.

If you want to go to New York, I’ll take you. We can go this weekend. I have an apartment there.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

She doesn’t reply immediately, and I distract myself with phone calls.

Welch has nothing new on Leila. We discuss whether or not to involve the police at this stage; I’m

still reluctant to do it.

“She’s close, Mr. Grey,” Welch says.

“She’s clever. She’s managed to evade us so far.”

“We’re watching your place, SIP, Grey House. She won’t slip past us again.”

“I hope she doesn’t. And thanks for the report on Hyde.”

“You’re welcome. I can dig deeper if you wish.”

“It’s fine for now. But I may get back to you.”

“Okay, sir.”

“Bye.” I hang up.

My phone buzzes before I’ve let go of the receiver. “I have your mother on the line,” Montana chirps

in a singsong voice.

Shit. That’s all I need. I’m still a little pissed at my mom and her comment about Ana being after my

money.

“Put her through,” I mutter.

“Christian, darling,” Grace says.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Darling, I just wanted to apologize for what I said on Saturday. You know I think the world of Ana,

it’s just…all of this is so sudden.”

“It’s fine.” But it’s not fine.

She’s quiet for a moment and I think she’s doubting the sincerity of my response.

However, I’m already arguing with one woman in my life; I don’t want to argue with another.

“Grace?”

“Sorry, darling. It’s your birthday on Saturday and we wanted to organize a party.”

On my computer screen an e-mail from Ana appears.

“Mom, I can’t talk now. I have to go.”

“Okay, call me.” She sounds melancholy, but I don’t have time for her right now.

“Yes. Sure.”

“Bye, Christian.”

“Bye.” I hang up.

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: FW Lunch date or Irritating Baggage

Date: June 13 2011 11:15 Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

To: Christian Grey

Christian

While you have been busy interfering in my career and saving your ass from my careless missives,

I received the following e-mail from Mrs. Lincoln. I really don’t want to meet with her—even if I did, I

am not allowed to leave this building. How she got hold of my e-mail address, I don’t know. What

would you suggest I do? Her e-mail is below:

Dear Anastasia, I would really like to have lunch with you. I think we got off on the wrong foot, and

I’d like to make that right. Are you free sometime this week?

Elena Lincoln

Anastasia Steele

Assistant to Jack Hyde, Editor, SIP

Oh, this day just gets better and better. What the hell is Elena doing now? And Ana is calling me out

on my shit as usual.

I didn’t know arguing could be so tiresome. And discouraging. And worrying. She’s mad at me.

* * *

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Irritating Baggage

Date: June 13 2011 11:23

To: Anastasia Steele

Don’t be mad at me. I have your best interests at heart.

If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.

I’ll deal with Mrs. Lincoln.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

Irritating baggage? I smile for the first time since I left Ana this morning. She has a way with words.

I call Elena.

“Christian,” she answers on the fifth ring.

“Do I have to get a banner and attach it to a plane and fly it over your office?”

She laughs. “My e-mail?”

“Yes, Ana sent it to me. Please. Leave her alone. She doesn’t want to see you. And I understand

and respect that. You’re making my life really difficult.”

“You understand her?”

“Yes.”

“I think she needs to know how hard you are on yourself.”

“No. She doesn’t need to know anything.”

“You sound exhausted.”

“I’m just tired of you going behind my back and chasing my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yes. Girlfriend. Get used to it.”

She sighs long and hard.

“Elena. Please.”

“Okay, Christian, it’s your funeral.”

What the fuck?

“I have to go,” I answer.

“Good-bye,” she says, and she sounds annoyed.

“Bye.” I hang up.

The women in my life are vexing. I turn in my chair and stare out of the window. The rain is

relentless. The sky is dark and drab, reflecting my mood. Life has become complicated. It used to

be easier when everything and everyone stayed where I placed them, in their designated

compartments. Now, with Ana, everything’s changed. This is all new, and so far everyone, including

my mother, seems to be pissed at me or pissing me off.

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