Unknown - fifty shades darker

“Mr. Grey—”

“Call me Carrick, please, Ana.”

“I’m delighted to be able to contribute. I unexpectedly came into some money. I don’t need it. And it’s such a worthy cause.”

He smiles down at me, and I seize the opportunity for some innocent inquiries. Carpe diem , my subconscious hisses from behind her hand.

“Christian told me a little about his past, so I think it’s appropriate to support your work,” I add, hoping that this might encourage Carrick to give me a small insight into the mystery that is his son.

Carrick is surprised. “Did he? That’s unusual. You certainly have had a very positive effect on him, Anastasia. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so, so . . . buoyant.” I flush.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Well, in my limited experience, he’s a very unusual man,” I murmur.

“He is,” Carrick agrees quietly.

“Christian’s early childhood sounds hideously traumatic, from what he’s told me.” Carrick frowns, and I worry if I’ve overstepped the mark.

“My wife was the doctor on duty when the police brought him in. He was skin and bones, and badly dehydrated. He wouldn’t speak.” Carrick frowns again, lost in the awful memory, despite the up-tempo music surrounding us. “In fact, he didn’t speak for nearly two years. It was playing the piano that eventually brought him out of himself. Oh, and Mia’s arrival, of course.” He smiles down at me fondly.

“He plays beautifully. And he’s accomplished so much, you must be very proud of him.” I sound distracted. Holy Shit. Didn’t speak for two years.

“Immensely so. He’s a very determined, very capable, very bright young man. But between you and me, Anastasia, it’s seeing him like he is this evening—carefree, acting his age—that’s the real thrill for his mother and me. We were both commenting on it today. I believe we have you to thank for that.”

I think I blush to my roots. What am I supposed to say to this?

“He’s always been such a loner. We never thought we’d see him with anyone. Whatever you’re doing, please don’t stop. We’d like to see him happy.” He stops suddenly as if he’s overstepped the mark. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” I shake my head. “I’d like to see him happy, too,” I mutter, unsure of what else to say.

“Well, I’m very glad you came this evening. It’s been a real pleasure seeing the two of you together.”

As the final strains of “Come Fly with Me” fade away, Carrick releases me and bows, and I curtsey, mirroring his civility.

“That’s enough dancing with old men.” Christian is at my side again. Carrick laughs.

“Less of the ‘old,’ son. I’ve been known to have my moments.” Carrick winks at me playfully and saunters into the crowd.

“I think my dad likes you,” Christian mutters as he watches his father mingle with the crowd..

“What’s not to like?” I peek coquettishly up at him through my lashes.

“Good point well made, Miss Steele.” He pulls me into an embrace as the band starts to play “It Had to Be You.”

“Dance with me,” he whispers seductively.

“With pleasure, Mr. Grey.” I smile in response, and he sweeps me across the dance floor once more.

At midnight, we stroll down toward the shore between the marquee and the boathouse where the other partygoers are gathered to watch the fireworks. The MC, back in charge, has permitted the removal of masks, the better to see the display. Christian has his arm around me, but I’m aware that Taylor and Sawyer are close by, probably because we’re in the crowd now. They are looking anywhere but at the dockside where two pyrotechnicians dressed in black are making their final preparations. Seeing Taylor reminds me of Leila.

Perhaps she’s here. Shit. The thought chills my blood, and I huddle closer to Christian. He gazes down at me as he pulls me closer.

“You okay, baby? Cold?”

“I’m fine.” I glance quickly behind us and see the other two security guys, whose names I forget, standing close by. Moving me in front of him, Christian puts both his arms around me over my shoulders.

Suddenly, a stirring classical soundtrack booms over the dock and two rockets soar into the air, exploding with a deafening bang over the bay, lighting it all in a dazzling canopy of sparkling orange and white that’s reflected in a glittering shower over the still calm water of the bay. My jaw drops as several more rockets fire into the air and explode in a kaleido-scope of color.

I can’t recall ever seeing a display this impressive, except perhaps on television, and it never looks this good on TV. They’re all in time to the music. Volley after volley, bang after bang, and light after light as the crowd answers with gasps and ooohs and ahhs. It is out of this world.

On the pontoon in the bay several silver fountains of light shoot up twenty feet in the air, changing color through blue, red, orange, and back to silver—and yet more rockets explode as the music reaches its crescendo.

My face is beginning to ache from the ridiculous grin of wonder plastered across it. I glance at Fifty, and he’s the same, marveling like a child at the sensational show. For the finale a volley of six rockets shoot into the dark and explode simultaneously, bathing us in a glorious golden light as the crowd erupts into frantic, enthusiastic applause.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the MC calls out as the cheers and whistles fade. “Just one note to add at the end of this wonderful evening; your generosity has raised a total of one million, eight hundred and fifty three thousand dollars!” Spontaneous applause erupts again, and out on the pontoon, a message lights up in silver streams of sparks forming the words Thank You From Coping Together, sparkling and shimmering over the water.

“Oh, Christian . . . that was wonderful.” I grin up at him and he bends down to kiss me.

“Time to go,” he murmurs, a broad smile on his beautiful face, and his words hold so much promise.

Suddenly, I feel very tired.

He glances up again, and Taylor is close, the crowd dispersing around us. They don’t speak but something passes between them.

“Stay with me a moment. Taylor wants us to wait while the crowd disperses.” Oh.

“I think that firework display probably aged him a hundred years,” he adds.

“Doesn’t he like fireworks?”

Christian gazes down at me fondly and shakes his head but doesn’t elaborate.

“So, Aspen,” he says, and I know he’s trying to distract me from something. It works.

“Oh . . . I haven’t paid for my bid,” I gasp.

“You can send a check. I have the address.”

“You were really mad.”

“Yes, I was.”

I grin. “I blame you and your toys.”

“You were quite overcome, Miss Steele. A most satisfactory outcome if I recall.” He smiles salaciously. “Incidentally, where are they?”

“The silver balls? In my bag.”

“I’d like them back.” He smirks down at me. “They are far too potent a device to be left in your innocent hands.”

“Worried I might be quite overcome again, maybe with somebody else?” His eyes glitter dangerously. “I hope that’s not going to happen,” he says, a cool edge to his voice. “But no, Ana. I want all your pleasure.” Whoa. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Implicitly. Now, can I have them back?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He narrows his eyes at me.

There’s music once more from the dance floor but it’s a DJ playing a thumping dance number, the bass pounding out a relentless beat.

“Do you want to dance?”

“I’m really tired, Christian. I’d like to go, if that’s okay.” Christian glances at Taylor, who nods, and we set off toward the house, following a couple of drunken guests. I’m grateful when Christian takes my hand—my feet are aching from the dizzying height and tight confinement of my shoes.