I want to express my deepest gratitude to Sarah, Kay and Jada. Thank you for everything you have done for me.

I also give a HUGE thanks to Kathleen and Christy for taking on the brunt of the writing.

Thank you too, Niall, my love, my husband and best friend (most of the time).

And big, big hello to all the wonderful, amazing women around the world with whom I enjoyed talking and whom I now consider my friends, including Ail, Alex, Amy, Andrea, Angela, Asucena, Babs, Bee, Belinda, Betsy, Brandy, Britt, Caroline, Katherine, Dawn, Gwen, Hana, Janet, Jen, Jenn, Jill, Katie, Kelly, Liz, Mandy, Margaret, Natalia, Nicole, Nora, Olga, Pam, Polina, Rayna, Razy, Ryan, Ruth, Steph, Susi, Tasha, Taylor and Yuna. And also to all the talented, funny and kind women (and men) with whom I communicated online.

Thanks to Morgan and Jenn for everything about the Hitman Hotel.

And finally, thanks to Janine, my editor. You are the cornerstone upon which everything rests. That's all.

He is coming back. Mom is lying on the couch, sleeping, or she feels bad again.

I hide in the kitchen under the table, leaning against the wall so he won't see me. I cover my face with my hands. Through my fingers I see my mother, her hand on a dirty green blanket. His huge boots with shiny buckles stop in front of her.

He beats his mother with a belt. “Get up! Get up! Fucking bitch! Bitch! Fucking bitch! Get up bitch! Get up! Get up!..”

Mom sobs. "No need. Please don't!..” Mom doesn't scream. Mom curled up into a ball and hides her face.

I close my eyes and plug my ears. Silence. I open my eyes.

He turns and stomps into the kitchen. With a belt in hand. Looking for me.

He leans over and looks under the table. A disgusting stench hits my nose, a mixture of cigarettes and whiskey. "There you are, you bastard..."

He wakes up to a bloodcurdling howl. God! He's covered in sweat, his heart is pounding. What the hell? He sits up abruptly and shakes his head. Devil, they're back... He howled himself. He takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly, trying to calm himself, to force the smell of cheap bourbon and stinky Camel cigarettes out of his nostrils and out of his memory.

I somehow got through the Third-Day-Without-Christian and my first day at work. However, she managed to relax a bit. New faces flashed by, I tried to delve into the work. And then there's my new boss, Mr. Jack Hyde... Here he comes to my table, smiling, sparkles in his blue eyes.

- Well done, Ana. I think you and I will get along great.

Not without some effort, I stretch my lips into what looks like a smile.

- I'll go if you don't mind.

“Of course, go, it’s already half past five.” Till tomorrow.

- Goodbye, Jack.

- Goodbye, Ana.

I grab my bag, pull on my jacket, and walk to the door. Once on the streets of Seattle, I sigh deeply. But the early evening air still doesn't fill the void in my chest, the vacuum I've felt since Saturday morning, a painful reminder of my loss. I trudge dejectedly to the bus stop and wonder how I can now live without my beloved old woman, Wanda ... or without an Audi.

I immediately pull myself together. No. Don't think about him! Yes, of course, I can now afford a car - a beautiful, new car. Perhaps he paid me too generously ... After this thought, my mouth becomes bitter, but I prefer not to notice it. You have to get everything out of your head. Don't think about anything, don't feel anything... And don't think about him. Otherwise, I will roar again, right now, on the street. Only this was not enough for me.

Without Kate, the apartment is empty and dreary. Probably lying on the beach in Barbados now, sipping a cool cocktail. I turn on the flat screen TV so that the sound fills the vacuum and gives at least some sense that I'm not alone, but I'm not listening or watching. I sit down and stare blankly at the wall. I don't feel anything, only pain. How much longer can I endure this?

The trill of the intercom brings me out of my daze, and I shudder in fright. Who is it? Hesitating, I press the button.

– Delivery for Miss Steele.

The voice is lazy, dull, and I'm filled with frustration. I go down the stairs. Downstairs, leaning against the front door, stands a boy with a cardboard box, chewing gum. I scratch my signature on the receipt and take the box. Although it is large, it is surprisingly light. Inside are two dozen long-stemmed white roses and a card.

Congratulations on your first day of work.

Hope it went well.

And thanks for the glider. Very nice of you.

He decorated my desk.

Christian.

I look at the card, at the letters printed on it, and the emptiness in my chest grows. I have no doubt that all this was sent by his secretary, hardly Christian himself. It hurts me too much to think about it. I look at the roses - they are luxurious, and my hand does not rise to throw them away. There is nothing to do, I slap into the kitchen and look for a vase there.

This is how my life goes: awakening, work, and in the evening - tears and sleep. Well, trying to sleep. Christian haunts me even in my sleep. Glittering gray eyes, bright copper-coloured hair... And music... a lot of music - now I can't hear it at all. I run from her. I wince even from the bell in the neighboring bakery.

I didn't tell anyone about this, not even my mom or Ray. I don't have the strength for it. And I don't want anything at all. Now I am left alone on a desert island, on war-scorched land where nothing grows, where the horizon is dark and empty. Yes, I am. At work, I can communicate with everyone - and with no one in particular. That's all. If I talk to my mother, I will break down completely - and in my soul there is nothing whole left anyway.

I lost my appetite. On Wednesday at lunch I overcame a glass of yogurt - the first thing I ate since Friday. I exist on cappuccino and diet cola. I'm on caffeine, and that's not good.

Jack often comes up to me, bothers me, asks questions about my personal life. And what does he need? I try to be polite, but I don't let him near.

I'm sitting at my computer, looking through Jack's mail and I'm glad that this stupid job distracts me from problems. My mail is beeping, I quickly look to see who the letter is from.

Damn what news! Letter from Christian. No, that's all I needed! Why write here?

From whom: Christian Grey

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia.

I'm sorry I'm writing to you at work. I hope I don't bother you too much. Did you receive my flowers?

I know that the gallery opens tomorrow, there will be an opening day for your friend. It’s a long way to go there, and you probably didn’t have time to buy a car. I'll be perfectly happy to take you there - if you want.

Let me know.

Christian Grey, CEO of Gray Enterprises Holding

Tears well up in my eyes. I jump up, gallop to the toilet and dive into the stall. Jose! I completely forgot, but I promised to come to his opening day. Damn, Christian is right: how do I get there?

I press my hand to my hot forehead. Why didn't José call me? And why isn't anyone calling me? In the confusion of feelings, I did not even notice that my mobile phone was silent.

Crap! What an idiot! I still have call forwarding enabled on my blackberry smartphone that Christian left behind. All this time, Gray was getting calls addressed to me - of course, unless he threw away his smartphone. How did Christian get my email?

Dedicated to Z and J

You are my favorite forever

Gratitude

I want to express my deepest gratitude to Sarah, Kay and Jada. Thank you for everything you have done for me.

I also give a HUGE thanks to Kathleen and Christy for taking on the brunt of the writing.

Thank you too, Niall, my love, my husband and best friend (most of the time).

And big, big hello to all the wonderful, amazing women around the world with whom I enjoyed talking and whom I now consider my friends, including Ail, Alex, Amy, Andrea, Angela, Asucena, Babs, Bee, Belinda, Betsy, Brandy, Britt, Caroline, Katherine, Dawn, Gwen, Hana, Janet, Jen, Jenn, Jill, Katie, Kelly, Liz, Mandy, Margaret, Natalia, Nicole, Nora, Olga, Pam, Polina, Rayna, Razy, Ryan, Ruth, Steph, Susi, Tasha, Taylor and Yuna. And also to all the talented, funny and kind women (and men) with whom I communicated online.

Thanks to Morgan and Jenn for everything about the Hitman Hotel.

And finally, thanks to Janine, my editor. You are the cornerstone upon which everything rests. That's all.

Prologue

He is coming back. Mom is lying on the couch, sleeping, or she feels bad again.

I hide in the kitchen under the table, leaning against the wall so he won't see me. I cover my face with my hands. Through my fingers I see my mother, her hand on a dirty green blanket. His huge boots with shiny buckles stop in front of her.

He beats his mother with a belt. “Get up! Get up! Fucking bitch! Bitch! Fucking bitch! Get up bitch! Get up! Get up!..”

Mom sobs. "No need. Please don't!..” Mom doesn't scream. Mom curled up into a ball and hides her face.

I close my eyes and plug my ears. Silence. I open my eyes.

He turns and stomps into the kitchen. With a belt in hand. Looking for me.

He leans over and looks under the table. A disgusting stench hits my nose, a mixture of cigarettes and whiskey. "There you are, you bastard..."

He wakes up to a bloodcurdling howl. God! He's covered in sweat, his heart is pounding. What the hell? He sits up abruptly and shakes his head. Devil, they're back... He howled himself. He takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly, trying to calm himself, to force the smell of cheap bourbon and stinky Camel cigarettes out of his nostrils and out of his memory.

Chapter 1

I somehow got through the Third-Day-Without-Christian and my first day at work. However, she managed to relax a bit. New faces flashed by, I tried to delve into the work. And then there's my new boss, Mr. Jack Hyde... Here he comes to my table, smiling, sparkles in his blue eyes.

- Well done, Ana. I think you and I will get along great.

Not without some effort, I stretch my lips into what looks like a smile.

- I'll go if you don't mind.

“Of course, go, it’s already half past five.” Till tomorrow.

- Goodbye, Jack.

- Goodbye, Ana.

I grab my bag, pull on my jacket, and walk to the door. Once on the streets of Seattle, I sigh deeply. But the early evening air still doesn't fill the void in my chest, the vacuum I've felt since Saturday morning, a painful reminder of my loss. I trudge dejectedly to the bus stop and wonder how I can now live without my beloved old woman, Wanda ... or without an Audi.

I immediately pull myself together. No. Don't think about him! Yes, of course, I can now afford a car - a beautiful, new car. Perhaps he paid me too generously ... After this thought, my mouth becomes bitter, but I prefer not to notice it. You have to get everything out of your head. Don't think about anything, don't feel anything... And don't think about him. Otherwise, I will roar again, right now, on the street. Only this was not enough for me.

Without Kate, the apartment is empty and dreary. Probably lying on the beach in Barbados now, sipping a cool cocktail. I turn on the flat screen TV so that the sound fills the vacuum and gives at least some sense that I'm not alone, but I'm not listening or watching. I sit down and stare blankly at the wall. I don't feel anything, only pain. How much longer can I endure this?

The trill of the intercom brings me out of my daze, and I shudder in fright. Who is it? Hesitating, I press the button.

– Delivery for Miss Steele.

The voice is lazy, dull, and I'm filled with frustration. I go down the stairs. Downstairs, leaning against the front door, stands a boy with a cardboard box, chewing gum. I scratch my signature on the receipt and take the box. Although it is large, it is surprisingly light. Inside are two dozen long-stemmed white roses and a card.

Congratulations on your first day of work.

Hope it went well.

And thanks for the glider. Very nice of you.

He decorated my desk.

I look at the card, at the letters printed on it, and the emptiness in my chest grows. I have no doubt that all this was sent by his secretary, hardly Christian himself. It hurts me too much to think about it. I look at the roses - they are luxurious, and my hand does not rise to throw them away. There is nothing to do, I slap into the kitchen and look for a vase there.

This is how my life goes: awakening, work, and in the evening - tears and sleep. Well, trying to sleep. Christian haunts me even in my sleep. Glittering gray eyes, bright copper-coloured hair... And music... a lot of music - now I can't hear it at all. I run from her. I wince even from the bell in the neighboring bakery.

I didn't tell anyone about this, not even my mom or Ray. I don't have the strength for it. And I don't want anything at all. Now I am left alone on a desert island, on war-scorched land where nothing grows, where the horizon is dark and empty. Yes, I am. At work, I can communicate with everyone - and with no one in particular. That's all. If I talk to my mother, I will break down completely - and in my soul there is nothing whole left anyway.

I lost my appetite. On Wednesday at lunch I overcame a glass of yogurt - the first thing I ate since Friday. I exist on cappuccino and diet cola. I'm on caffeine, and that's not good.

Jack often comes up to me, bothers me, asks questions about my personal life. And what does he need? I try to be polite, but I don't let him near.

I'm sitting at my computer, looking through Jack's mail and I'm glad that this stupid job distracts me from problems. My mail is beeping, I quickly look to see who the letter is from.

Damn what news! Letter from Christian. No, that's all I needed! Why write here?

From whom: Christian Grey

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia.

I'm sorry I'm writing to you at work. I hope I don't bother you too much. Did you receive my flowers?

I know that the gallery opens tomorrow, there will be an opening day for your friend. It’s a long way to go there, and you probably didn’t have time to buy a car. I'll be perfectly happy to take you there - if you want.

1

Pages: 513

Year of publication: 2012

Russian language

In the second part of the Fifty Shades of Gray trilogy, the main character is going through a difficult breakup with an extravagant lover. The inner emptiness cannot be filled and the pain cannot be relieved. But life decides to bring the couple together again - and former feelings light up stronger than before.

There is more romance and tender relationships, more information about the secrets of the characters, about their lives and past. Learning more and more details from Gray's life, it remains to sympathize with the hero. His fetishes are now clear, but Christian, under the influence of strong feelings, will begin to change, in which his beloved Ana will help him with all his might. And the girl herself will change - she will become more confident in her own abilities and bolder. Christian will be so fascinated by this that he decides to legalize their relationship. Just a fairy tale, but this is not the end of an amazing story.

There are fewer sex scenes in Fifty Shades Darker, and they are all much calmer and more tender than the previous ones, although the spicy fetish is still present, but to a lesser extent. This part becomes more romantic and touching compared to the first book in the trilogy. Erica James once again leaves the end of the book raising many questions and making the final part of the book interesting to read.

Erica Leonard James

FIFTY SHADES DARKER

Dedicated to Z and J

You are my favorite forever

GRATITUDE

I want to express my deepest gratitude to Sarah, Kay and Jada. Thank you for everything you have done for me.

I also give a HUGE thanks to Kathleen and Christy for taking on the brunt of the writing.

Thank you too, Niall, my love, my husband and best friend (most of the time).

And big, big hello to all the wonderful, amazing women around the world with whom I enjoyed talking and whom I now consider my friends, including Ail, Alex, Amy, Andrea, Angela, Asucena, Babe, Bee, Belinda, Betsy, Brandy, Britt, Caroline, Katherine, Dawn, Gwen, Hana, Janet, Jen, Jenn, Jill, Katie, Kelly, Aiz, Mandy, Margaret, Natalia, Nicole, Nora, Olga, Pam, Polina, Rayna, Razy, Ryan, Ruth, Steph, Susi, Tasha, Taylor and Yuna. And also to all the talented, funny and kind women (and men) with whom I communicated online.

Thanks to Morgan and Jenn for everything about the Hitman Hotel.

And finally, thanks to Janine, my editor. You are the cornerstone upon which everything rests. That's all.

He is coming back. Mom is lying on the couch, sleeping, or she feels bad again.

I hide in the kitchen under the table, leaning against the wall so he won't see me. I cover my face with my hands. Through my fingers I see my mother, her hand on a dirty green blanket. His huge boots with shiny buckles stop in front of her.

He beats his mother with a belt. “Get up! Get up! Fucking bitch! Bitch! Fucking bitch! Get up bitch! Get up! Get up!..”

Mom sobs. "No need. Please don't!..” Mom doesn't scream. Mom curled up into a ball and hides her face.

I close my eyes and plug my ears. Silence. I open my eyes.

He turns and stomps into the kitchen. With a belt in hand. Looking for me.

He leans over and looks under the table. A disgusting stench hits my nose, a mixture of cigarettes and whiskey. "There you are, you bastard..."

He wakes up to a bloodcurdling howl. God! He's covered in sweat, his heart is pounding. What the hell? He sits up abruptly and shakes his head. Devil, they're back... He howled himself. He takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly, trying to calm himself, to force the smell of cheap bourbon and stinky Camel cigarettes out of his nostrils and out of his memory.

I somehow got through the Third-Day-Without-Christian and my first day at work. However, she managed to relax a bit. New faces flashed by, I tried to delve into the work. And then there's my new boss, Mr. Jack Hyde... Here he comes to my table, smiling, sparkles in his blue eyes.

Well done Ana. I think you and I will get along great.

Not without some effort, I stretch my lips into what looks like a smile.

I'll go if you don't mind.

Sure, go, it's already half past six. Till tomorrow.

Goodbye, Jack.

Goodbye, Ana.

I grab my bag, pull on my jacket, and walk to the door. Once on the streets of Seattle, I sigh deeply. But the early evening air still doesn't fill the void in my chest, the vacuum I've felt since Saturday morning, a painful reminder of my loss. I trudge dejectedly to the bus stop and wonder how I can now live without my beloved old woman, Wanda ... or without an Audi.

I immediately pull myself together. No. Don't think about him! Yes, of course, I can now afford a wheelbarrow - a beautiful, new car. Perhaps he paid me too generously ... After this thought, my mouth becomes bitter, but I prefer not to notice it. You have to get everything out of your head. Don't think about anything, don't feel anything... And don't think about him. Otherwise, I will roar again, right now, on the street. Only this was not enough for me.

Without Kate, the apartment is empty and dreary. Probably lying on the beach in Barbados now, sipping a cool cocktail. I turn on the flat screen TV so that the sound fills the vacuum and gives at least some sense that I'm not alone, but I'm not listening or watching. I sit down and stare blankly at the wall. I don't feel anything, only pain. How much longer can I endure this?

The trill of the intercom brings me out of my daze, and I shudder in fright. Who is it? Hesitating, I press the button.

Delivery for Miss Steele.

The voice is lazy, dull, and I'm filled with frustration. I go down the stairs. Downstairs, leaning against the front door, stands a boy with a cardboard box, chewing gum. I scratch my signature on the receipt and take the box. Although it is large, it is surprisingly light. Inside are two dozen long-stemmed white roses and a card.

Congratulations on your first day of work.

Hope it went well.

And thanks for the glider. Very nice of you.

He decorated my desk.

Christian.

I look at the card, at the letters printed on it, and the emptiness in my chest grows. I have no doubt that all this was sent by his secretary, hardly Christian himself. It hurts me too much to think about it. I look at the roses - they are luxurious, and my hand does not rise to throw them away. There is nothing to do, I slap into the kitchen and look for a vase there.

This is how my life goes: awakening, work, and in the evening - tears and sleep. Well, trying to sleep. Christian haunts me even in my sleep. Glittering gray eyes, bright, dark copper hair... And music... a lot of music - now I can't hear it at all. I run from her. I wince even from the bell in the neighboring bakery.

I didn't tell anyone about this, not even my mom or Ray. I don't have the strength for this. And I don't want anything at all. Now I am left alone on a desert island, on war-scorched land where nothing grows, where the horizon is dark and empty. Yes, I am. At work, I can communicate with everyone - and with no one in particular. That's all. If I talk to my mother, I will break down completely - and in my soul there is nothing whole left anyway.

I lost my appetite. On Wednesday at lunch I overcame a glass of yogurt - the first thing I ate since Friday. I exist on cappuccino and diet cola. I'm on caffeine, and that's not good.

Jack often comes up to me, bothers me, asks questions about my personal life. And what does he need? I try to be polite, but I don't let him near.

I'm sitting at my computer, looking through Jack's mail and I'm glad that this stupid job distracts me from problems. My mail is beeping, I quickly look to see who the letter is from.

Damn what news! Letter from Christian. No, that's all I needed! Why write here?

From whom: Christian Grey

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia.

I'm sorry I'm writing to you at work. I hope I don't bother you too much. Did you receive my flowers?

I know that the gallery opens tomorrow, there will be an opening day for your friend. It’s a long way to go there, and you probably didn’t have time to buy a car. I'll be perfectly happy to take you there - if you want.

Let me know.

Christian Grey, CEO of Gray Enterprises Holding

Tears well up in my eyes. I jump up, gallop to the toilet and dive into the stall. Jose! I completely forgot, but I promised to come to his opening day. Damn, Christian is right: how do I get there?

I press my hand to my hot forehead. Why didn't José call me? And why isn't anyone calling me? In the confusion of feelings, I did not even notice that my mobile phone was silent.

Crap! What an idiot! I still have call forwarding enabled on my blackberry smartphone that Christian left behind. All this time, Gray was getting calls addressed to me - of course, unless he threw away his smartphone. How did Christian get my email?

However, he even knows the size of my shoes, so finding out the email address is not a problem for him.

Will I be able to meet him again? Will I survive? Do I want to see him? I close my eyes and throw back my head, caught in a hot wave of longing and yearning. Of course I want.

Description:

The first part of the famous trilogy of the British writer E.L. James. Her debut novel exceeded all expectations and earned the love of readers around the world. The book is especially popular among the fair sex, from teenage girls to older women. The plot is based on the story of an unusual, tense relationship with elements of eroticism between an ordinary student, young and sweet Anastasia Steele and her new boss, young millionaire Christian Grey. The beginning of their acquaintance was an interview that the girl took from Mr. Gray, later fate would again push them to each other. Anastacia worked as a saleswoman in a store and saw Christian with rather unusual purchases. Soon she begins to guess about the peculiar preferences of this man and tries to please him.

The book masterfully intertwines the pure, innocent world of the young girl Anastacia and the cruel, closed and forbidden world of Christian himself. The novel will capture you from the first minute of reading and will definitely not leave you indifferent.