I lea一ve the bedroom.
The spare playroom key is in its usual place in the cabinet in the utility room. I
grab it and scoot upstairs. From the linen closet, I retrieve a pillow, duvet and
sheet, then unlock the playroom door and enter, switching the lights to dim.
Odd that I find the smell and ambience of this room so comforting,
considering I safe worded the last time we were in here. I lock the door
behind me, lea一ving the key in the lock. I know that tomorrow morning
Christian will be frantic to find me, and I don’t think he’ll look in here if the
door’s locked. Well, it will serve him right.
I curl up on the Chesterfield couch, wrap myself in the duvet and drag my
BlackBerry from my purse. Checking my texts, I find the one from the evil
Bitch Troll that I forwarded from Christian’s phone. I 398 | P a g e
E L JAMES
press ‘Forward’ and type:
*WOULD YOU LIKE MRS. LINCOLN TO JOIN US WHEN WE
EVENTUALLY DISCUSS THIS TEXT SHE SENT TO YOU? IT
WILL SA一VE YOU RUNNING TO HER AFTERWARD. YOUR
WIFE*
I press ‘Send’ and switch the volume to mute. I huddle under my duvet. For all
my bra一vado, I’m overwhelmed by the enormity of Christian’s deceit. This
should be a happy time—jeez, we’re going to be parents. Briefly, I relive
telling Christian that I’m pregnant and fantasize that he falls to his knees with
joy in front of me, pulling me into his arms and on to his lap telling me how
much he loves me and our Little Blip. Yet here I am, alone and cold in a
BDSM fantasy playroom. Suddenly I feel old, older than my years. Taking on
Christian was always going to be a challenge, but he really has surpassed
himself this time. What was he thinking? Well, if he wants a fight, I’ll give him
a fight. No way am I going to let him get away with running off to see that
monstrous woman whenever we ha一ve a problem. He’s going to ha一ve to
choose—her or me and our Little Blip. I sniffle softly, but because I’m so
exhausted, I soon fall asleep.
I wake with a start, momentarily disorientated . . . oh
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