How?

We dodged them by skirting the SIP building and going to the rear loading doors. But now Ana’s trapped inside her office and I’m ambivalent about that. At least she’s safe there, but I’m sure she’s not going to tolerate confinement for long.

My heart sinks. Of course the Seattle media are curious about my fiancée. It’s part of the Christian Grey bonus. I just hope to God this attention doesn’t drive her away.

Sawyer pulls up outside Grey House, where another couple of hacks are lurking, but with Taylor beside me I storm past them, ignoring their shouted questions.

What a fucking start to the morning!

Still aggravated, I wait for the elevator. I have a to-do list longer than my dick and I have to deal with the fallout from the weekend: missed calls from my dad, my mom, and Elena Lincoln.

Why the hell she’s calling me I don’t know. We’re done. I made that clear on Saturday night.

I’d rather be at home with my girl.

In the elevator I check my phone. There’s an e-mail from Ana.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Showing A Fiancée A Good Time

Date: June 20 2011 09:25

To: Christian Grey

My dearest husband-to-be

I feel it would be remiss of me not to thank you for

a) surviving a helicopter crash

b) an exemplary hearts-and-flowers proposal

c) a wonderful weekend

d) a return to the Red Room

e) a very pretty rock, which everyone has noticed!

f) my wake-up call this morning (especially this! ;))

Ax

Anastasia Steele

Acting-Editor, Fiction, SIP

PS: Do you have a strategy for dealing with the press?

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Showing a man a good time

Date: June 20 2011 09:36

To: Anastasia Steele

My darling Ana

You are entirely welcome.

Thank you for a wonderful weekend.

I love you.

I’ll come back to you about a strategy for the f****** press.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

PS: I think wake-up calls are underrated.

PPS: F****** BLACKBERRY!!!!!!!!!!!

How many times do I have to tell you, woman!

Amused and mollified by our e-mail exchange, I charge out of the elevator. Andrea is at her desk in my outer office. “Good morning, Mr. Grey,” she says. “I…um…I’m glad you’re still with us.”

“Thank you, Andrea. I appreciate that. And thank you for all your help on Friday night. It was invaluable.”

She flushes, embarrassed, I think, by my gratitude. “Where’s the new girl?” I ask.

“Sarah? She’s on an errand. Coffee?”

“Please. Black. Strong. I have a great deal to do.”

She gets to her feet.

“If my father, mother, or Mrs. Lincoln call, take a message. Refer all press inquiries to Sam. But if the FAA, Eurocopter, or Welch call, put them through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, of course, Anastasia Steele.”

Andrea’s face softens with one of her rare smiles. “Congratulations, Mr. Grey.”

“You know?”

“Everyone knows, sir.”

I laugh. “Thank you, Andrea.”

“I’ll get your coffee.”

“Great, thanks.”

At my desk, I wake my iMac. There’s another e-mail from Ana.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: The Limitations of Language

Date: June 20 2011 09:38

To: Christian Grey

**. ****, **** *******!

*** ***** ** **********.

* **** ***, ***.

Ax

I laugh out loud even though I have no idea what she’s written. Andrea enters with my coffee and sits down so we can run through the day’s schedule ahead of my first call.

I’ve been on the phone for what feels like three solid hours. When I finally hang up, stand, and stretch, it’s 1:15. Charlie Tango is being recovered today and should be back at Boeing Field tonight. The Federal Aviation Administration has handed the inquiry into the emergency landing over to the National Transportation Safety Board. The Eurocopter engineer who was one of the first on-site says it’s incredibly fortunate that I put the fire out with the extinguishers. It will help to speed up theirs and the NTSB’s investigation. I’m hoping to have their initial report tomorrow.

Welch has informed me that as a precaution, he’s secured all of last week’s CCTV footage from the helipad in Portland, and from in and around Charlie Tango’s private hangar at Boeing Field. A shiver skates up my spine. Welch thinks it might be sabotage, and I have to admit the possibility has been at the back of my mind since both engines caught fire.

Sabotage.

But why?

I’ve asked him to have his team comb through all the recordings and see if they find anything suspicious.

After much wheedling from Sam, my VP for publicity, I’ve agreed to a brief press conference later this afternoon. Sam’s nagging voice rings in my head. “You need to get in front of this, Christian. Your miraculous escape is still all over the news cycle. They have aerial footage of the recovery operation.”

Frankly, I think Sam just loves the drama. I hope that a press briefing will stop them from hounding Ana and me.