Fifty Shades Freed (Christian & Ana)(102)

We pull up outside Kate's apartment. She hugs me hard.

"Don't be a stranger," she whispers and kisses my cheek. Then she's out of the car. I wave, feeling strangely homesick. I have missed girl talk. It's fun and relaxing, and reminds me that I'm still young. I must make more of an effort to see Kate, but the truth is, I love being in my bubble with Christian. Last night we attended a charity dinner together. There were so many men in suits and well-groomed elegant women talking about real estate prices and the failing economy and the plunging stock markets. I mean, it was dull, really dull. So it's refreshing to let my hair down with someone my own age.

My stomach rumbles. Jeez, I still haven't eaten. Shit—Christian! I scramble through my purse and fish out my BlackBerry. Holy crap—five missed calls! One text . . .

*WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?*

And one e-mail.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Angry. You've not seen angry Date: August 26, 2011 00:42 EST

To: Anastasia Grey

Anastasia

Sawyer tells me that you are drinking cocktails in a bar when you said you wouldn't.

Do you have any idea how mad I am at the moment?

I'll see you tomorrow.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

My heart sinks. Oh shit! I really am in trouble. My subconscious glares at me, then shrugs, wearing her you-made-your-bed-you-lie-in-it face. What did I expect? I contemplate calling him, but it's late and he's probably asleep . . . or pacing. I decide a quick text may be enough.

*I'M STILL IN ONE PIECE. I HAD A NICE TIME. MISSING YOU—PLEASE DON'T BE MAD*

I gaze at my BlackBerry, willing him to respond, but it's ominously silent. I sigh.

Prescott pulls up outside Escala and Sawyer gets out to hold the door open for me. As we stand waiting for the elevator, I take the opportunity to quiz him.

"What time did Christian call you?"

Sawyer flushes. "About nine thirty, ma'am."

"Why didn't you interrupt my conversation with Kate so I could speak with him?"

"Mr. Grey told me not to."

I purse my lips. The elevator arrives, and we ride up in silence. I'm suddenly grateful that Christian has a whole night to recover from his snit-fit, and that he's on the other side of the country. It gives me some time. On the other hand . . . I miss him.

The doors to the elevator open, and for a split second I stare at the foyer table.

What is wrong with this picture?

The vase of flowers lies smashed into fragments all over the floor of the foyer, water and flowers and chunks of china are strewn everywhere, and the table is overturned. My scalp prickles and Sawyer grabs my arm and pulls me back into the elevator.

"Stay there," he hisses, drawing a gun. He steps into the foyer and disappears from my field of vision.

I cower in the back of the elevator.

"Luke!" I hear Ryan call from inside the great room. "Code blue!"

Code blue?

"You have the perp?" Sawyer calls back. "Jesus H. Christ!"

I flatten myself against the elevator wall. What the hell is going on? Adrenaline spikes through my body, and my heart leaps into my throat. I hear soft voices, and a moment later Sawyer reappears in the foyer, standing in the puddle of water. He holsters his gun.

"You can come in, Mrs. Grey," he says gently.

"What's happened, Luke?" My voice is barely a whisper.

"We've had a visitor." He takes my elbow, and I'm grateful for the support—my legs have turned to jelly. I walk with him through the open double doors.