Date: September 1 2011 16:11

To: Anastasia Grey

I can assure you, Mrs. Grey, that my hair is very firmly attached—has this not been demonstrated often enough by your good self?

My palm, however, is twitching.

I might do something about that tonight.

x

Christian Grey

Not Bald Yet CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

I send a quick e-mail to Ros to bring signature copies for the Geolumara deal with her, and there’s another e-mail from my wife.

From: Anastasia Grey

Subject: Squirm

Date: September 1 2011 16:20

To: Christian Grey

Promises, promises…

Now stop pestering me. I am trying to work. I have an impromptu meeting with an author. Will try not to be distracted by thoughts of you during the meeting.

A x

Anastasia Grey

Editor, SIP

There’s a knock on the door, and this time it’s Ros, twenty minutes late.

“You look well.” Flynn motions me into his office.

“I am, thank you.” I take my usual seat and wait patiently for him to take his. When he’s ready, he gives me his expectant look.

“So, what’s occurring?” he asks.

I fill him in on the week’s events, starting with my rushed flight back from New York. Hiding my amusement, I watch his eyebrows ascend farther up his forehead as my tale unfolds.

“That’s it?” he asks, when I finish.

“More or less.”

“So, let me get this straight. You canceled two important meetings to fly home to check on Anastasia, because you were angry with her that she hadn’t followed your instructions, only to find this Hyde character had broken into your apartment to kidnap your wife.”

“In a nutshell. Yes.”

“She safe-words on you, and that’s never happened before—I don’t want to know the details, unless you really feel a need to tell me—but you resolve your differences, and following that, you have a nightmare that she dies.”

I nod, trying to dampen my sudden anxiety as I remember fragments of my dream.

“Anything else?”

“I took her to Aspen with some friends. I punched a guy’s lights out because he touched her. And this afternoon Hyde was refused bail. And I got a text from Leila.”

He closes his eyes, and I don’t know if it’s because he can’t believe what he’s just heard, or because he’s collecting his thoughts, or because he’s pissed at Leila.

“Christian, that’s a hell of a lot to take on board. I’m surprised you’re not more stressed.”

“Yes. You’d think. But my stress has been tempered by something altogether unfamiliar and frankly alarming.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Something you alluded to in our last couple of meetings.”

“Go on,” Flynn prompts.

“I have a general and creeping sense of happiness. It’s quite unsettling.”

“Ah. I see.”

“You do?”

“It’s obvious. To me anyway.” His expression, frustratingly, gives nothing away.

“Please. Enlighten me.”

“Well, I would hazard a guess that Jack Hyde’s kidnap attempt and his subsequent incarceration have justified your feelings about Ana’s security, but the threat he posed has now been eliminated. So, you’ve been able to let down your guard. Ana’s safe.”

Ah! Makes sense.

“But I would also say this is not a new phenomenon. You’ve experienced a great deal of happiness over the last few months. Your engagement. The wedding. The honeymoon. We’ve talked about this before. You have a tendency to focus on the end result and not the journey to get there. You were focused on getting married and anxious that wouldn’t happen. Yet it did.” He pauses, I imagine for emphasis. “Christian, you are the master of your own happiness. I imagine that in your subconscious you don’t think you deserve to be happy. But let me set you right on that. You do. You are allowed to be happy. After all, it’s an unalienable right written into your constitution.”

“I think you’ll find it’s the pursuit of happiness that’s enshrined in the Constitution.”

“Hmm…semantics. But what I’m reading into this situation is that you hold the key to your happiness. You’re in control. You just need to let it in. And not deliberately put obstacles in its way.”

I glance down at the mini orchids on his coffee table. “Can I?” The words are out before I realize I’ve said them out loud.

“Can you what?”

“Let it in.”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

“But what if she leaves?”

He sighs. “There are no certainties in life except death and taxes. Everyone runs the risk of being hurt; you know this. You’ve had more than your fair share of that as a child. But you’re not a child anymore. Give yourself permission to enjoy your life and your wife.”

Is it as simple as that?

“Now. Leila,” he says, and I know we’ve moved on.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Taylor pulls away from the curb as I watch Ana and Prescott disappear into SIP. My uneasy sense of bliss lingers. We’ve had an amazing weekend…more fun and frolics with Mrs. Grey. This is what I’ve been missing from my life.

“Sir.” Taylor distracts me from my happy place.