Chapter 101 (1/2)
”Hi.” I nod at Susi. She looks like Leila. She looks like me. Oh no. Another one.
”Yes,” Leila says, as if reading my thoughts. ”Susi knows Mr. Grey, too.”
What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I give her a polite smile.
”Please, sit,” I murmur.
There's a knock on the door. It's Hanna. I motion her in, knowing full well why she's disturbing us.
”Sorry to interrupt, Ana. I have Mr. Grey on the line?”
”Tell him I'm busy.”
”He was quite insistent,” she says fearfully.
”I am sure he was. Would you apologize to him, and say I'll call him back very shortly?”
Hanna hesitates.
”Hanna, please.”
She nods and scuttles out of the room. I turn back to the two women sitting in front of me. They are both staring at me in awe. It's uncomfortable.
”What can I do for you?” I ask.
Susi speaks. ”I know this is all kinds of weird, but I wanted to meet you, too. The woman who captured Chris - ”
I hold up my hand, stopping her in mid-flow. I do not want to hear this.
”Um . . . I get the picture,” I mutter.
”We call ourselves the sub club.” She grins at me, her eyes shining with mirth.
Oh my God.
Leila gasps and gapes at Susi, at once amused and appalled. Susi winces. I suspect Leila's kicked her under the table. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I glance nervously at Prescott, who remains impassive, her eyes never leaving Leila. Susi seems to remember herself. She blushes, then nods and stands.
”I'll wait in reception. This is Lulu's show.” I can tell she's embarrassed.
Lulu?
”You'll be okay?” she asks Leila, who smiles up at her. Susi gives me a large, open, genuine smile and exits the room.
Susi and Christian . . . it's not a thought I wish to dwell on. Prescott takes her phone out of her pocket and answers it. I didn't hear it ring.
”Mr. Grey,” she says. Leila and I turn to look at her. Prescott closes her eyes as if in pain.
”Yes, sir,” she says and stepping forward hands me the phone. I roll my eyes.
”Christian,” I murmur, trying to contain my exasperation. I stand and stride briskly out of the room.
”What the f**k are you playing at?” he shouts. He's seething.
”Don't shout at me.”
”What do you mean don't shout at you?” he shouts, louder this time.
”I gave specific instructions which you have completely disregarded -