Taylor grabs a chair from his small conference table and places it beside Prescott. He gestures to me to sit down. I comply and look at them expectantly.

“Prescott has been going through all the tapes from over the weekend from downstairs and outside. She found this.” Taylor nods at her, and using her mouse, Prescott clicks start on one of the screens.

A grainy image begins to play. It shows a man in coveralls walking toward the front entrance of the building, and inspecting the camera itself. She freezes it as the man looks directly at the camera.

Fuck. “It’s Jack Hyde,” I murmur, and he has his hair tied back. “When was this?”

“It’s Saturday, August 20, at around nine forty-five in the morning.”

His hair is lighter here; he must have been wearing a wig in the server room at Grey House.

“Sir, I’ve isolated all the footage I can find of him at around this time,” Prescott says.

“Interesting. What else do you have?”

She runs through several clips of Hyde: at the front door, at the opening to the garage, at the fire escapes. He’s carrying a broom, which he uses occasionally so he looks like a street cleaner.

Cunning bastard.

It’s weirdly fascinating to watch him.

“Have you sent this to Welch?”

“Not yet,” Taylor says. “I thought you’d better see it first.”

“Send it to him. Perhaps he can track where he goes from here.”

“Will do. This might be just the clue they need. Though, I learned today they haven’t found him yet. He’s still not been to his apartment, sir.”

“Oh, that’s news.”

“I spoke with Welch for a full update about an hour ago,” Taylor clarifies.

“No doubt he’ll fill me in tomorrow. This is good work. Well done, Prescott.” I give her a quick smile.

“Thank you, sir.”

“We’ll have to be extra careful, knowing that he’s prowling around the building.”

“Indeed,” Taylor agrees.

“I’d better head back. Thank you. Both of you.”

It looks like Ana and Gia are finishing up when I enter the living room. “All done?” I ask, as I put my arm around Ana.

“Yes, Mr. Grey.” Gia smiles brightly, though her smile looks forced. “I’ll have the revised plans to you in a couple of days.”

Oh. I’m Mr. Grey now.

Interesting.

“Excellent. You’re happy?” I ask Ana, and I want to know what she’s said to Gia. Ana nods, looking rather pleased with herself.

“I’d better be going,” Gia says, again too brightly. She offers her hand to Ana first, then to me.

“Until next time, Gia,” Ana says with a charming smile.

“Yes, Mrs. Grey. Mr. Grey.”

Taylor appears at the entrance of the great room.

“Taylor will see you out,” Ana says, and arm in arm, we watch her join Taylor in the hallway.

When she’s out of earshot, I look down at my wife. “She was noticeably cooler.”

“Was she? I didn’t notice.” Ana shrugs, trying and failing miserably to look nonchalant. My wife is an appalling liar. “What did Taylor want?” She’s changing the subject.

Releasing her, I turn and start rolling up the plans. “It was about Hyde.”

“What about Hyde?” She pales.

Shit. I don’t want to add to her nightmares.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Ana.” Abandoning the plans, I draw her into my arms. “It turns out he hasn’t been in his apartment for weeks, that’s all.” I kiss her hair and go back to rolling up Gia’s designs. “So, what did you decide on?”

“Only what you and I discussed. I think she likes you,” Ana says quietly.

I think so, too! “Did you say something to her?”

She stares down at her hands. She’s knotting her fingers.

“We were Christian and Ana when she arrived, and Mr. and Mrs. Grey when she left,” I prompt.

“I may have said something,” she admits.

Oh, baby, you’re going into battle for me?

I’ve met Gia’s type before. Always in a business context. “She’s only reacting to this face.”

Ana looks alarmed.

“What? You’re not jealous, are you?” I’m shocked that she could even think this. Her cheeks color, and she doesn’t answer me, but looks down at her hands again, and I know I have my answer. I remember Elliot alluding to Gia’s nature and it reminded me of Elena—a woman who doesn’t take no for an answer. A woman who gets what she wants. “Ana, she’s a sexual predator. Not my type at all. How can you be jealous of her? Of anyone? Nothing about her interests me.” I run a hand through my hair, at a loss. “It’s only you, Ana. It will only ever be you.”

Abandoning the drawings again, I move quickly toward her and grasp her chin. “How can you think otherwise? Have I ever given you any indication that I could be remotely interested in anyone else?”

“No,” she whispers. “I’m being silly. It’s just today. You—” She stops.

“What about me?”

“Oh, Christian.” Tears well in her eyes. “I’m trying to adapt to this new life, that I had never imagined for myself. Everything is being handed to me on a plate—the job, you, my beautiful husband, who I never…I never knew I’d love this way, this hard, this fast, this…indelibly.”

I stare at her, paralyzed, as she takes a deep breath. “But you’re like a freight train, and I don’t want to get railroaded because the girl you fell in love with will be crushed. And what’ll be left? All that would be left is a vacuous social X-ray, flitting from charity function to charity function.”