Chapter 116 (1/2)

And I would never be unwittingly obtuse, Mr. Grey.

Surely you’ve worked that out by now. ;)

She loses appetite around me? That’s not good. And she’s making fun of me. Again.

* * *

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Can’t Wait

Date: May 31 2011 19:40

To: Anastasia Steele

I shall remember that, Miss Steele, and no doubt use the knowledge to my advantage.

I’m sorry to hear that I put you off your food. I thought I had a more concupiscent effect on you. That has been my experience, and most pleasurable it has been, too.

I very much look forward to the next time.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Gymnastic Linguistics

Date: May 31 2011 22:36 EST

To: Christian Grey

Have you been playing with the thesaurus again?

I hoot with laughter.

* * *

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Rumbled

Date: May 31 2011 19:40

To: Anastasia Steele

You know me so well, Miss Steele.

I am having dinner with an old friend now so I will be driving.

Laters, baby©.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

As much as I’d like to keep up the banter with Ana, I don’t want to be late for dinner. If I were, Elena would be displeased. I power down my computer, collect my wallet and phone, and take the elevator to the garage.

THE MILE HIGH CLUB is on the penthouse floor of Columbia Tower. The sun is sinking toward the peaks of Olympic National Park, coloring the sky with an impressive fusion of oranges, pinks, and opals. It’s stunning. Ana would love this view. I should bring her here.

Elena is seated at a corner table. She gives me a small wave and a big smile. The maître d’ escorts me to her table, and she rises, presenting her cheek to me.

“Hello, Christian,” she purrs.

“Good evening, Elena. You’re looking great, as usual.” I kiss her cheek. She tosses her sleek platinum hair to one side, which she does when she’s feeling playful.

“Sit,” she says. “What would you like to drink?” Her fingers and her trademark scarlet fingernails are wrapped around a champagne flute.

“I see you’ve started on the Cristal.”

“Well, I think we’ve got something to celebrate, don’t you?”

“We do?”

“Christian. This girl. Spill the beans.”

“I’ll have a glass of the Mendocino sauvignon blanc,” I tell the hovering waiter. He nods and hurries off.

“So, not a cause for celebration?” Elena takes a sip of her champagne, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of this.”