Chapter 129 (1/2)

I wake with a start, momentarily disorientated . . . oh yes - I'm in the playroom. Because there are no windows, I have no idea what time it is. The door handle rattles.

”Ana! ” Christian shouts from outside the door. I freeze . . . but he doesn't come in. I hear muffled voices, but they move away. I exhale and check the time on my BlackBerry. It's seven fifty, and I have four missed calls and two voice messages. The missed calls are mostly from Christian, but there's also one from Kate. Oh no, he must have called her. I don't have time to listen to them. I don't want to be late for work. I wrap the duvet around me and pick up my purse before making my way to the door. Unlocking it slowly, I peek outside. No sign of anyone. Oh shit . . . perhaps this is a bit melodramatic. I roll my eyes at myself, take a deep breath and head downstairs.

Taylor, Sawyer, Ryan, Mrs. Jones, and Christian are all standing in the entrance to the great room, and Christian issuing rapid-fire instructions. As one they all turn and gape at me. Christian is still wearing the clothes he slept in last night. He looks disheveled, pale, and heart-stoppingly beautiful. His large gray eyes are wide, and I don't know if he's fearful or angry. It's difficult to tell.

”Sawyer, I'll be ready to leave in about twenty minutes,” I mutter, wrapping the duvet tighter around me for protection. He nods, and all eyes turn to Christian, who is still staring intensely at me.

”Would you like some breakfast, Mrs. Grey?” Mrs. Jones asks. I shake my head.

”I'm not hungry, thank you.” She purses her lips but says nothing.

”Where were you?” Christian asks, his voice low and husky. Suddenly Sawyer, Taylor, Ryan and Mrs. Jones scatter, scurrying into Taylor's office, into the foyer, and into the kitchen like terrified rats from a sinking ship.

I ignore Christian and march toward our bedroom.

”Ana,” he calls after me, ”answer me.” I hear his footsteps behind me as I walk into the bedroom and continue into our bathroom. Quickly, I turn and lock the door.

”Ana!” Christian knocks on the door. I turn on the shower. The door rattles. ”Ana, open the damned door.”

”Go away!”

”I'm not going anywhere.”

”Suit yourself.”

”Ana, please.”

I climb into the shower, effectively blocking him out. Oh, it's warm. The healing water cascades over me, cleansing the exhaustion of the night off my skin. Oh my. This feels so good. For a moment, for one short moment, I can pretend all is well. I wash my hair and by the time I've finished, I feel better, stronger, ready to face the freight train that is Christian Grey. I wrap my hair in a towel, briskly dry myself with another towel, and wrap it around me.

I unlock the door and open it and find Christian is leaning against the wall opposite, his hands behind his back. His expression is wary, that of a hunted predator. I stride past him into our walk-in closet.

”Are you ignoring me?” Christian asks in disbelief as he stands on the threshold of the closet.