we had about me going to New York with
Jack. Jeez—I could ha一ve ended up on some sordid sex tape. The thought is
nauseating. And in that moment I recall the photographs Christian kept of his
submissives. Oh shit. “We’re cut from the same cloth.” No, Christian, you’re
not, you’re nothing like him. He’s still curled around me, like a small boy.
“Christian, I think you should talk to your mom and dad.” I am reluctant to
move him, so I shift and slide back into the bed until we are 460 | P a g e
E L JAMES
eye to eye.
A bewildered gray gaze meets mine, reminding me of the child in the
photograph.
“Let me call them,” I whisper. He shakes his head. “Please.” I beg. Christian
stares at me, pain and self-doub一t reflected in his eyes as he considers my
request. Oh, Christian, please!
“I’ll call them,” he whispers.
“Good. We can go and see them together, or you can go. Whichever you
prefer.”
“No. They can come here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want you going anywhere.”
“Christian, I’m up for a car journey.”
“No.” His voice is firm, but he gives me an ironic smile. “Anyway, it’s
Saturday night, they’re probably at some function.”
“Call them. This news has obviously upset you. They might be able to shed
some light.” I glance at the radio alarm. It’s almost seven in the evening. He
regards me impassively for a moment.
“Okay,” he says as if I’ve issued him with a challenge. Sitting up, he reaches
for the bedside phone.
I wrap my arm around him and rest my head on his chest as he makes the
call.
“Dad?” I register his surprise that Carrick has answered the phone.
“Ana’s good. We’re home. Welch has just left. He found out the connection . .
. the foster home in Detroit . . . I don’t remember any of that.” Christian’s
voice is almost inaudible as he mutters the last sentence. My heart constricts
once more. I hug him, and he squeezes my shoulder.
“Yeah . . . You will? . . . Great.” He hangs up. “They’re on their way.” He
sounds surprised, and I realize that he’s probably never asked them for hel
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