s up when I appear in the
doorway but shakes his head at me, indicating that I am not welcome. Shit . .
. I turn and wander dejectedly back to the breakfast bar. Taylor appears,
snappily dressed in a somber suit, looking like he’s had eight hours of
uninterrupted sleep.
“Morning, Taylor,” I murmur, trying to gauge his mood and see if he’ll offer me
any visual cues about what has been going on.
“Good morning, Mrs. Grey,” he replies, and I hear the sympathy in those four
words. I smile compassionately back at him, knowing he had to endure an
angry, frustrated Christian returning to Seattle way ahead of schedule.
“How was the flight?” I dare to ask.
“Long, Mrs. Grey.” His brevity speaks volumes. “May I ask how you are?” he
adds, his tone softening.
“I’m good.”
He nods. “If you’ll excuse me.” He heads toward Christian’s study. Hmm.
Taylor’s allowed in, but not me.
“Here you go.” Mrs. Jones places my breakfast in front of me. My appetite
has vanished, but I eat anyway, not wishing to offend her. By the time I’ve
finished what I can of my breakfast, Christian has still not emerged from his
study. Is he a一voiding me?
“Thanks, Mrs. Jones,” I murmur, sliding off the bar stool and making my way
to the bathroom to clean my teeth. As I brush them, 206 | P a g e
E L JAMES
I’m reminded of Christian’s sulk over the wedding vows. He holed up in his
study then, too. Is that what this is? Him sulking? I shudder as I recall his
subsequent nightmare. Will that happen again? We really need to talk. I need
to know about Jack, and about the increased security for the Greys—all the
details that ha一ve been kept from me, but not from Kate. Obviously Elliot talks
to her.
I glance at my watch. It’s eight fifty—I’m late for work. I finish brushing my
teeth, apply a little lip gloss, grab my lightweight black jacket and head back
to the great room. I am relieved to see Christian there, eating his breakfast.
“You’re going?” he says when he sees me.
“To work? Yes, of course.” Bra一vely, I walk towa
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