“I found your photos,” I whisper.
His eyes widen in shock. “You’ve been in the safe?” he asks, incredulous.
“Safe? No. I didn’t know you had a safe.”
He frowns. “I don’t understand.”
“In your closet. The box. I was looking for your tie, and the box was under your jeans… the ones you normally wear in the playroom. Except today.” I flush.
He gapes at me, appalled, and nervously runs his hand through his hair as he processes this information. He rubs his chin, lost in thought, but he can’t mask the perplexed annoyance etched on his face. Abruptly he shakes his head, exasperated-but amused, too-and a faint smile of admiration kisses the corner of his mouth. He steeples his hands in front of him and focuses on me once more.
“It’s not what you think. I’d forgotten all about them. That box has been moved. Those photographs belong in my safe.”
“Who moved them?” I whisper.
He swallows. “There’s only one person who could have done that.”
“Oh. Who? And what do you mean, ‘it’s not what I think’?”
He sighs and tilts his head to one side, and I think he’s embarrassed.
“This is going to sound cold, but-they’re an insurance policy,” he whispers steeling himself for my response.
“Insurance policy?”
“Against exposure.”
The penny drops and rattles uncomfortably round and round in my empty head.
“Oh,” I murmur, because I can’t think of what else to say. I close my eyes. This is it. This is Fifty Shades of Fucked-Up, right here, right now. “Yes. You’re right,” I mutter. “That does sound cold.” I stand to clear our dishes. I don’t want to know any more.
“Ana.”
“Do they know? The girls… the subs?”
He frowns. “Of course they know.”
Oh, well, that’s something. He reaches out, grabbing me and pulling me to him.
“Those photos are supposed to be in the safe. They’re not for recreational use.” He stops. “Maybe they were when they were taken originally. But-” He stops, imploring me. “They don’t mean anything.”
“Who put them in your closet?”
“It could only have been Leila.”
“She knows your safe combination?”
He shrugs. “It wouldn’t surprise me. It’s a very long combination, and I use it so rarely. It’s the one number I have written down and haven’t changed.” He shakes his head. “I wonder what else she knows and if she’s taken anything else out of there.” He frowns, then turns his attention back to me. “Look, I’ll destroy the photos. Now, if you like.”
“They’re your photos, Christian. Do with them as you wish,” I mutter.
“Don’t be like that,” he says, taking my head in his hands and holding my gaze to his. “I don’t want that life. I want our life, together.”
Holy cow. How does he know that beneath my horror about these photos is the fact that I’m paranoid?
“Ana, I thought we exorcised all those ghosts this morning. I feel that way. Don’t you?”
I blink at him, recalling our very, very pleasurable and romantic and downright dirty morning in his playroom.
“Yes,” I smile. “Yes, I feel like that, too.”
“Good.” He leans forward and kisses me, folding me in his arms. “I’ll shred them,” he murmurs. “And then I have to go to work. I’m sorry, baby, but I have a mountain of business to get through this afternoon.”
“It’s cool. I have to call my mother.” I grimace. “Then I want to do some shopping and bake you a cake.”
He grins and his eyes light up like a small boy’s.
“A cake?”
I nod.
“A chocolate cake?”
“You want a chocolate cake?” His grin is infectious.
He nods.
“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Grey.”
He kisses me once more.
Carla is stunned into silence.
“Mom, say something.”
“You’re not pregnant, are you, Ana?” she whispers in horror.
“No, no, no, nothing like that.” Disappointment slices through my heart, and I’m saddened that she would think that of me. But then I remember with an ever-sinking feeling that she was pregnant with me when she married my father.
“I’m sorry, darling. This is just so sudden. I mean, Christian is quite a catch, but you’re so young, and you should see a little of the world.”
“Mom, can’t you just be happy for me? I love him.”
“Darling, I just need to get used to the idea. It’s a shock. I could tell in Georgia that there was something very special between you two, but marriage…?”
In Georgia he wanted me to be his submissive, but I won’t tell her that.
“Have you set a date?”
“No.”
“I wish your father was alive,” she whispers. Oh no… not this. Not this, now.
“I know, Mom. I would have liked to know him, too.”
“He only held you once, and he was so proud. He thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.” Her voice is a deathly hush as the familiar tale is retold… again. She will be in tears next.
“I know, Mom.”
“And then he died.” She sniffs, and I know this has set her off as it does every time.
“Mom,” I whisper, wanting to reach down the phone and hold her.
“I’m a silly old woman,” she murmurs and she sniffs again. “Of course I am happy for you, darling. Does Ray know?” she adds, and she seems to have recovered her equilibrium.
“Christian’s just asked him.”
“Oh, that’s sweet. Good.” She sounds melancholic, but she’s making an effort.
“Yes, it was,” I murmur.
“Ana, darling, I love you so much. I
“Yes, Mom. I love you, too.”
“Bob is calling me, I have to go. Let me have a date. We need to plan… are you having a big wedding?”
Big wedding, crap. I haven’t even thought about that. Big wedding? No. I don’t want a big wedding.
“I don’t know yet. As soon as I do, I’ll call.”
“Good. You take care now and be safe. You two need to have some fun… plenty of time for kids later.”
Kids!
“Mom, I didn’t really ruin your life, did I?”
She gasps. “Oh no, Ana, never think that. You were the best thing that ever happened to your father and me. I just wish he was here to see you so grown up and getting married.” She’s wistful and maudlin again.
“I wish that, too.” I shake my head thinking about my mythical father. “Mom, I’ll let you go. I’ll call soon.”
“Love you, darling.”
“Me, too, Mom. Good-bye.”
Christian’s kitchen is a dream to work in. For a man who knows nothing about cooking, he seems to have everything. I suspect Mrs. Jones loves to cook, too. The only thing I need is some high quality chocolate for the
