Subject: The List
Date: September 9, 2011 09:33
To: Christian Grey
That’s definitely at the top.
:D
A x
Anastasia Grey
Commissioning Editor, SIP
336/551
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Tell Me Something New
Date: September 9, 2011 09:42
To: Anastasia Grey
You’ve said that for the last three days.
Make your mind up.Or . . . we could try something else.
;)
Christian Grey
CEO, Enjoying this Game, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I grin at my screen. The last few evenings have been . . . entertaining. We have relaxed again, Leila’s brief interruption forgotten. I haven’t quite worked up the courage to ask if any of her paintings hang on the walls—and frankly, I don’t really care. My BlackBerry buzzes and I answer, expecting Christian.
“Ana?”
“Yes?”
“Ana, honey. It’s José Senior.”
“Mr. Rodriguez! Hi!” My scalp prickles. What does José’s dad want with me?
“Honey, I’m sorry to call you at work. It’s Ray.” His voice falters.
“What is it? What’s happened?” My heart leaps into my throat.
“Ray’s been in an accident.”
Oh, no. Daddy. I stop breathing.
“He’s in the hospital. You’d better get here quick.”
“Mr. Rodriguez, what’s happened?” My voice is hoarse and thick with unshed tears. Ray. Sweet Ray. My dad.
“He’s been in a car accident.”
“Okay, I’ll come . . . I’ll come now.” Adrenaline has flooded my bloodstream, leaving panic in its wake. I’m finding it difficult to breathe.
“They’ve transferred him to Portland.”
Portland? What the hell is he doing in Portland?
“They airlifted him, Ana. I’m heading there now. OHSU. Oh, Ana, I didn’t see the car. I just didn’t see it . . .” His voice cracks.
338/551
Mr. Rodriguez—no!
“I’ll see you there.” Mr. Rodriguez chokes and the line goes dead.
A dark dread seizes me by the throat, overwhelming me. Ray. No. No. I take a deep steadying breath, pick up the phone and call Roach. He answers on the second ring.
“Ana?”
“Jerry. It’s my father.”
“Ana, what happened?”
I explain, barely pausing to breathe.
“Go. Of course, you must go. I hope your father’s okay.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep you informed.” Inadvertently I slam the phone down, but right now couldn’t care less.
“Hannah!” I call, aware of the anxiety in my voice. Moments later she pokes her head around the door to find me packing my purse and grabbing papers to stuff into my briefcase.
“Yes, Ana?” She frowns.
“My father has been in an accident. I have to go.”