50 shades darker read all. fifty shades darker

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E L James
fifty shades darker

FIFTY SHADES DARKER

Introduction, photographs, and captions © Fifty Shades Ltd. 2017

Excerpt from Fifty Shades Darker as told by Christan Grey,

The author published an earlier serialized version of this story online with different characters as "Master of the Universe" under the pseudonym Snowqueen's Icedragon.

Film Art © Universal Studios 2016

* * *

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.

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,

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.

Perhaps... perhaps I'll let him know that I've already changed my mind... No, no, no, I can't be with a person who takes pleasure in hurting me, someone who can't love me.

Painful memories flash through my mind: the bath, the strong, caressing hands, the kisses, his humor and his gloomy, exciting look - very sexy. I miss him. Five days, five painful days dragged on for an eternity. I fell asleep in tears, regretted that I had met him, and wished that he would become different, could become different so that we could be together. How much longer do I have to suffer from this terrible, sizzling feeling? I live on the threshold of hell.

I wrap my arms around my shoulders, tightly, tightly, as if I'm afraid that I'm about to crumble into pieces. I miss him. I miss… I love him. That's it, I love it, that's all.

Anastasia Steele, you're at work right now! .. I need to be strong, but I want to go to Jose's vernissage, and the masochist hiding in the depths of my soul also wants to meet Christian. I take a deep breath, exhale noisily and go to my table.

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

Hello Christian.

Thanks for the flowers, they are lovely.

Yes, I would like to go.

Thanks to.

Anastasia Steele,

I check my mobile phone - yes, call forwarding was turned on. Jack is off to negotiate and I give Jose a quick call.

- Hello, Jose. This is Ana.

- I can't talk for a long time. What time does vernissage start?

- Oh sure. “I can see his face in my mind, his wide grin, and for the first time in five days, I smile sincerely.

- At seven thirty.

- See you then. So long, Jose.

So long, Ana.

From whom: Christian Grey

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

What time should I pick you up?

Christian Grey,

CEO of Gray Enterprises Holding

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

José's vernissage starts at 7:30. What time do you think you should arrive?

Anastasia Steele,

secretary to Jack Hyde, editor, SIP

From whom: Christian Grey

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

Portland is pretty far. I'll pick you up at 5:45.

I'm waiting for our next meeting.

Christian Grey,

CEO of Gray Enterprises Holding

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

See you then.

Anastasia Steele

secretary to Jack Hyde, editor, SIP

God, I'll see Christian soon! For the first time in five days, my mood improves a little. I allow myself to think openly about him.

Did he miss me? Probably not the way I see it. Or has he found himself a new obedient toy? The thought is so unbearable that I immediately discard it. I look at the pile of mail that needs to be sorted immediately and try to put Christian out of my head.

Tonight I toss and turn in bed this way and that, trying to sleep, and for the first time in days I don't cry.

I see Christian's tortured face as I leave. I remember that he did not want to let me go, and this is strange. Why did I have to stay when everything was at an impasse? Each of us was hindered by his own: to me - the fear of pain, to him - the fear of ... what? Love?

I roll over onto my side and hug the pillow. My soul is filled with boundless sorrow. He thinks he doesn't deserve love. Why? Maybe the reason lies in his childhood? In his mother, a cheap prostitute? Such thoughts torment me for a long time until I fall into a restless sleep.

The day drags on and on, and Jack is extraordinarily attentive to me. I suspect it's Kate's plum-colored dress and black high-heeled ankle boots that I borrowed from her closet. But I don't care much. After the first money, I will definitely buy myself something decent. The dress dangles loosely on me, but I pretend it's meant to be.

Finally, the clock shows half past six. With a racing heart, I put on my jacket and grab my purse. Now I can see him!

- Are you going on a date? Jack asks as he walks past my desk towards the exit.

- Yes. No. Not really.

He raises an eyebrow. A look of obvious interest is written on his face.

- Boyfriend?

I blush with embarrassment.

No, just a friend. Former boyfriend.

– Ana, let’s go somewhere after work tomorrow. You did a great job the first week. Gotta celebrate.

Jack smiles, and his face takes on an unfamiliar expression for a moment. I'm getting a little uncomfortable.

Putting his hands in his pockets, he walks through the double doors. I glare at his back. Is it okay to drink with the boss?

I shake my head. First, I still have to get through the evening with Christian Grey. Will I be able to do it?

I run to the toilet to clean myself up. I stop in front of a large mirror, long and meticulously look at my face. It is, as always, pale; dark circles under large eyes. In short, the look is tortured and frightened. Oh, it's a pity that I don't know how to use makeup! I tint my lashes, line my eyes, and pat my cheeks to make them a little pinker. I comb and style my hair so that it lays beautifully on my back. I'm moving my spirit. Well, nothing now.

Increasingly nervous, I walk down the lobby with a smile, waving to Claire in the waiting room. Looks like we'll be friends soon. Near the exit, Jack is talking to Elizabeth. With a wide smile, he hurries to open the door for me.

“Only after you, Ana,” he mutters.

“Thanks,” I smile sheepishly.

Taylor is waiting for me at the curb. He opens the back door of the car. I look back hesitantly at Jack, who has followed me; my boss looks at the Audi SUV with concern.

I walk over and sit in the back seat. And there he sits, Christian Grey, in a gray suit, without a tie, the collar of a white shirt is thrown open. Gray eyes shine.

My mouth dries up instantly. He looks amazing, but for some reason he frowns, looking at me. Why?

- When was the last time you ate? he asks angrily as Taylor slams the door behind me.

- Hello, Christian. Yes, I'm glad to see you too.

- Don't talk to me. Answer. Anger flashes in his eyes.

“Well… I ate yogurt in the afternoon. Yes, another banana.

- When was the last time you ate well? he asks caustically.

Taylor gets behind the wheel, pulls the Audi off the road, and joins the traffic.

I look out the window. Jack waves at me, though I don't know how he sees me through the dark glass. I wave back.

- Who is it? Christian asks sharply.

- My boss. I look out of the corner of my eye at the handsome man sitting next to me. His lips are tightly compressed.

- Well? Your last normal meal?

“Christian, this is none of your business, honestly,” I mutter, feeling extraordinarily brave as I do so.

“Everything you do concerns me. Answer.

Yes, what is it! I hum in annoyance, roll my eyes, and Christian squints angrily. And for the first time in many days, I suddenly feel funny. I do my best to suppress the laughter that threatens to burst out. Christian's face softens, and the shadow of a smile adorns his wonderfully defined lips.

- Well? he insists, softer now.

“Last Friday, shell pasta,” I whisper back.

He closes his eyes. A shadow of anger and, probably, regret runs across his face.

“Understood,” he says flatly. “You look like you've lost a few pounds or more. Please eat, Anastasia.

I lower my eyes and look at my clasped fingers. Why do I always feel like a stupid, useless child next to him?

He turns to me.

- How are you? he asks softly.

Well, actually, it's terrible... I swallow the lump in my throat.

“If I say everything is fine, I’ll be lying.

He sighs breathlessly.

“So do I,” he mutters, and squeezes my hand. - I missed you.

Oh, No! I feel the warmth of his fingers on my skin.

Christian, I...

Ana, please, we need to talk.

Now I will pay. Not!

“Christian, I… don’t… I cried so much,” I whisper, trying to control my emotions.

- Don't, baby! He pulls me by the arm, and before I know it, I find myself on his lap. He hugs me and buries his nose in my hair. “I missed you so much, Anastasia,” he says in a barely audible voice.

I want to get out of his arms, to keep my distance, but I can't. He presses me to his chest. I'm dying of bliss. Ah, if only it were always like this!

I put my head on his shoulder and he kisses my hair. I feel good, like at home. He smells of cleanliness, fabric softener, body gel. It also smells like Christian - and this is my favorite smell. For a moment, I allow myself to believe in the illusion that everything will be fine. It spills over my tormented soul like a balm.

A few minutes later, Taylor pulls the Audi to the curb even though we're still in town.

“Let's go,” Christian gently lifts me up, “we've arrived.

There's a helipad on the roof of the building. Christian tilts his head back and waves his hand.

Why, Charlie Tango, of course. Taylor opens the door for me, giving me a warm, patronizing smile. I smile back.

“I must return your handkerchief.

“Keep it to yourself, Miss Steele, with my best wishes.

I'm covered in paint. Christian steps out from behind the car and takes my hand. He looks questioningly at Taylor, who gives him a blank look.

- At nine? Christian says.

- Yes, sir.

Christian leads me through double doors to a huge foyer. I am thrilled by the warmth of the long, sensitive fingers squeezing my hand, an exciting current emanates from them. But even without this, Christian draws me to him - like the sun attracted Icarus. I have already burned myself, and yet again I fly into his light.

We approach the elevators, he presses the call button. Out of the corner of my eye I see a mysterious half-smile on his lips. The doors open. He releases my hand and gently pushes me into the cockpit.

The elevator is closed. I risk raising my eyes to Christian once again. He looks at me from the height of his height, and the air is charged with electricity, thickens, pulsates between us. At least touch it, at least eat it. We are drawn to each other.

“Oh my God,” I sigh, engulfed in the power of that instinctive attraction as old as life itself.

“I feel it too,” he says. His eyes are clouded with passion.

Desire fills my belly with dark, deadly plasma. Christian squeezes my hand, thumb caressing the crook of my little finger, and every muscle in my body tightens in a sweet spasm.

How does he have such power over me?

“Anastasia, don’t bite your lip,” he whispers.

I clench my teeth and look at him plaintively. I want it, immediately, here in the elevator. Can it be otherwise?

“You know what you mean to me.

Oh, so he needs me after all! My inner goddess, my self-esteem, was stirred after five days of hopelessness.

Suddenly, the elevator doors part, breaking the spell, and we go out onto the roof. It's windy here. Despite the black jacket, I'm cold. Christian puts his arm around my shoulders, pulls me close, and we quickly walk to the middle of the helipad. There is a Charlie Tango standing there, its blades spinning slowly.

A tall, fair-haired guy with a square jaw jumps out of the cab and, crouching, runs towards us. After exchanging a firm handshake with Christian, he shouts over the noise of the rotors:

The car is ready, sir. At your disposal!

– Did you check everything?

- Yes, sir.

“Are you picking her up around eight-thirty?”

- Yes, sir.

“Taylor is waiting for you at the entrance.

Thank you Mr Grey. Happy flying to Portland. Ma'am…” He smiles politely at me.

Without releasing my hand, Christian nods to the pilot and, crouching, leads me to the helicopter doors.

Inside, he straps me in, tightening the straps tight. Significantly, with an enigmatic smile.

“Now you’re not going anywhere,” he mutters. “I have to admit, I like that bandage on you. Yes, don't touch anything.

I blush thickly as he runs his index finger down my cheek. Then he holds out the headphones. "I wish I could touch you too, but you won't let me." … » I furrow my brows. Besides, he tightened the straps so tightly that I can hardly move.

Christian gets into the pilot's seat and buckles up, then does all the pre-flight checks. Acts confidently and quickly. I watch in awe. He puts on his headphones, flips a switch, and the blades speed up, deafening me with a low rumble.

He turns to me.

There is a mischievous, boyish grin on his lips. How long have I not seen her!

“Citac Tower, this is the Charlie Tango, the Golf Echo Hotel, ready to fly to Portland via PDX. How do you hear me? Reception.

“Roger, tower, this is the board of the Charlie Tango, end of communication.

Christian flips two toggle switches, takes hold of the control stick, and the helicopter slowly and smoothly takes off into the evening sky.

Seattle and my stomach are falling down, rapidly moving away from us.

“Once we chased the dawn, and she ran away from us, now we drive away the darkness,” his voice sounds in the headphones.

I widen my eyes in surprise. What? I don't believe my ears. Is he capable of such romance? He smiles and I shyly smile back.

“This time, in the evening sun, everything will look much more beautiful,” he says.

It was dark the last time we flew to Seattle. On the same evening, the view opens up amazing, literally unearthly. We are gaining altitude, flying between tall skyscrapers.

“My Escala is over there,” he nods at the building, “the Boeing is over there, and now the Space Needle is coming.”

“Never been there before,” I sigh, craning my neck.

I'll show it to you - we'll have dinner there.

Christian, we broke up.

- I know. But I still take you there and feed you,” he gets angry.

I shake my head and realize it's best not to argue.

- It's very beautiful, thank you.

- Impressive, isn't it?

“It's impressive that you can show me all of this.

“Rough flattery, isn't it, Miss Steele? But I do have many talents.

“I can see that very well, Mr. Grey.

He turns his head and grins. For the first time in five days, I relax a little. Maybe it's not all that bad.

- How do you like your new job?

- Thank you, OK. Interesting.

What is the new boss?

- Well, normal.

Can't I just say I'm worried about Jack's attention? Christian narrows his eyes.

- Something is wrong?

No, it's all right, except for the obvious.

– Obvious?

“Oh, Christian, honestly, you just annoy me sometimes.

- Do I get it? I? I don't like your tone, Miss Steele.

- I don't like it, that's fine.

His lips curl into a smile.

“I missed your cute cheeky mouth, Anastasia.

I want to shout: “And I missed you - all of you - not only without your voice, your lips! ..” But I just silently look through the windshield of Charlie Tango, which looks like a convex wall of an aquarium. We keep flying south. The sun hangs over the horizon - big, orange, dangerous - and I again feel like Icarus, risking to be burned in its fire.

Darkness creeps behind us from Seattle. The sky was adorned with opal, purple and aquamarine waves, smoothly merging into each other, in a way that only Mother Nature can do. The evening air is clean and clear. The lights of Portland twinkle, wink, greet us as Christian lands the helicopter on the landing pad. We are back at the top of the strange brick structure from which we flew less than three weeks ago.

It would seem, what is three weeks? Yes, petty. And yet I feel like I've known Christian all my life. He shuts off the Charlie Tango's engine by flipping various switches. The blades slowly come to a stop, and soon all I hear in my headphones is my own breathing. Hmm. Suddenly, for some reason, I am reminded of the organ masses of Thomas Tallis, which had such an amazing effect on me. The pulse quickens. I don't want to go anywhere from here.

Christian unbuckles his harness and turns to free me from my harness. There are lights in his eyes.

Did you enjoy the flight, Miss Steele? he asks in a gentle voice.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Grey,” I say politely.

- Well, now let's go look at photos of your friend.

He gives me his hand and I lean on it to get out of the Charlie Tango.

A gray-bearded man walks towards us and smiles broadly. I recognize him, I saw him last time.

- Hello, Joey. Christian, releasing my hand, exchanges a friendly handshake with him.

- Look after the car. Steven will pick her up after eight.

“Will do, Mr. Grey.” Ma'am,” he nods politely at me, “your car is waiting downstairs, sir. And, yes, the elevator doesn't work. You will have to walk.

- Thank you, Joey.

Christian takes my hand and we walk towards the stairs.

It's good that there are only three floors here. You're in those heels, he mutters disapprovingly.

Jokes aside.

- You don't like these boots?

- I like it very much, Anastasia. He squints and I think he wants to say something else, but stops. - Okay. Let's go slowly. It wasn't enough for you to trip and break your neck.

The driver takes us to the gallery. We sit in silence; the anxiety has returned and is tormenting me with the same force, and I understand that the time of the flight in the Charlie Tango was a lull, an "eye of the hurricane." Christian looks out the window; he is calm and thoughtful, even depressed; our former cheerful mood is gone. I want to say so much, but the trip is too short.

“Jose is just my friend,” I mutter.

Christian turns; there is concern in his eyes. His mouth - ah, his mouth brings back sweet memories in me. I remember him with all my skin, with all my body - everywhere. Christian frowns.

“Your beautiful eyes now occupy half of your face, Anastasia. Please promise me that you will eat.

“Yes, Christian, I will eat,” I answer automatically, like a robot.

- I'm talking seriously.

I can't get the sneer out of my voice. Frankly, the audacity of this man who made me go through hell in the last days is amazing. No, it's not like that ... I myself led myself through hell. No, after all, he ... I was completely confused and shook my head.

“I don’t want to fight you, Anastasia. I want you back and I want you to be healthy.

“But nothing has changed.

“It’s not for nothing that you are called Fifty Shades…” I mentally add.

Let's talk about it on the way back. Already arrived.

We stop outside the gallery and Christian, leaving me speechless, gets out of the car. He opens the door and offers his hand.

- What am I doing? Christian wonders.

You say things like that and then...

– Anastasia, we have arrived where you wanted. Let's go to the gallery. Then we'll talk. I don't want to make a scene in the street.

I look around. He is right. There are a lot of people around. I press my lips together tightly as he glares at me.

“Okay,” I mutter grimly.

Grasping my hand, he leads me into the building.

We enter a converted warehouse - brick walls, dark wood floors, white ceilings and a white plumbing network. Modern, spacious. Visitors roam the gallery, sipping wine and admiring the work of José. For a moment, my worries recede, I realize that my friend has realized his dream.

Good luck, Jose!

– Good evening, welcome to the vernissage of Jose Rodriguez.

We are greeted by a young woman in black; she has very short brown hair, bright red lipstick; large earrings in the ears. She glances at me briefly, then much longer than necessary at Christian, then back at me—and blinks rapidly.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. He is mine - or was mine. I do my best to remove the hostility from my eyes. When her eyes do focus on me, she blinks again.

“Oh, it’s you, Ana. We want you to be a part of this too...

With a smile on her lips, she hands me a pamphlet and directs me to a table laden with drinks and snacks.

- Do you know her? Christian asks gloomily.

I shake my head, as puzzled as he is.

He shrugs and changes the subject.

- What will you drink?

“Perhaps a glass of white wine.”

He furrows his brow but doesn't say anything and walks towards the bar.

José makes his way through the crowd.

Mother dear! Downright handsome! In costume! All beaming, Jose hugs and squeezes tightly, and I do my best to restrain myself so as not to burst into tears. He's my friend, my only friend since Kate left. Tears still blur my vision.

“Ana, I'm so glad you could come,” José whispers in my ear. Then he suddenly leans back and, taking me by the shoulders, examines me.

– What are you?

“Hey, are you all right?” However, you look great. Dios mio, have you lost weight?

With an effort of will, I drive away tears - this does not concern him either.

- Jose, it's okay. I'm so happy for you! Congratulations on the exhibition.

– How did you get there? he asks.

“Christian brought me,” I say, suddenly uneasy.

- Ah. José's face darkens and he opens his arms. - Where is he?

“Over there, go get some wine.

I nod towards Christian and see him exchanging pleasantries with someone present. Christian turns around and our eyes meet. And for a brief moment it paralyzes me: I stand and look at an unthinkably handsome man who looks at me with some incomprehensible feeling. His gaze burns through me, and now we have already forgotten about everything that is happening around, and we see only each other.

Damn it... This handsome man wants me to go back to him. Deep inside me, bright joy slowly spreads through my body, like a morning dawn.

– Ana! José calls out to me, and I reluctantly return to reality. - I'm so glad you're here! Look, I have to warn you...

Suddenly, Miss Short Hair and Red Lipstick appear nearby.

“Jose, a reporter from the Portland Prince wants to talk to you. Let's go to. She gives me a polite smile.

That's it, popularity. Cool? Jose grins, and I involuntarily grin back - he is so happy. “I will find you, Ana.

My friend gives me a peck on the cheek and hurries over to the girl standing next to the tall, awkward photographer.

Fifty Shades #2

Fifty Shades Darker is the second book in the Fifty Shades trilogy by Erica Leonard James, which became the #1 bestseller in the world, capturing the hearts and minds of readers with its frankness and sensuality.

Erica Leonard James

FIFTY SHADES DARKER

Dedicated to Z and J You are my very 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.
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 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.

FIFTY SHADES DARKER

Introduction, photographs, and captions © Fifty Shades Ltd. 2017

Excerpt from Fifty Shades Darker as told by Christan Grey,

The author published an earlier serialized version of this story online with different characters as "Master of the Universe" under the pseudonym Snowqueen's Icedragon.

Film Art © Universal Studios 2016

* * *

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).

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 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..."

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.

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.

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 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,

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.

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.

Perhaps... perhaps I'll let him know that I've already changed my mind... No, no, no, I can't be with a person who takes pleasure in hurting me, someone who can't love me.

I wrap my arms around my shoulders, tightly, tightly, as if I'm afraid that I'm about to crumble into pieces. I miss him. I miss… I love him. That's it, I love it, that's all.

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

Hello Christian.

Thanks for the flowers, they are lovely.

Yes, I would like to go.

Thanks to.

Anastasia Steele,

I check my mobile phone - yes, call forwarding was turned on. Jack is off to negotiate and I give Jose a quick call.

- Hello, Jose. This is Ana.

- I can't talk for a long time. What time does vernissage start?

- Oh sure. “I can see his face in my mind, his wide grin, and for the first time in five days, I smile sincerely.

- At seven thirty.

- See you then. So long, Jose.

So long, Ana.

From whom: Christian Grey

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

What time should I pick you up?

Christian Grey,

CEO of Gray Enterprises Holding

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

José's vernissage starts at 7:30. What time do you think you should arrive?

Anastasia Steele,

secretary to Jack Hyde, editor, SIP

From whom: Christian Grey

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia

Portland is pretty far. I'll pick you up at 5:45.

I'm waiting for our next meeting.

Christian Grey,

CEO of Gray Enterprises Holding

From whom: Anastasia Steele

Topic: Tomorrow

To whom: Christian Grey

See you then.

Anastasia Steele

secretary to Jack Hyde, editor, SIP

God, I'll see Christian soon! For the first time in five days, my mood improves a little. I allow myself to think openly about him.

Tonight I toss and turn in bed this way and that, trying to sleep, and for the first time in days I don't cry.

Finally, the clock shows half past six. With a racing heart, I put on my jacket and grab my purse. Now I can see him!

- Are you going on a date? Jack asks as he walks past my desk towards the exit.

- Yes. No. Not really.

He raises an eyebrow. A look of obvious interest is written on his face.

- Boyfriend?

I blush with embarrassment.

No, just a friend. Former boyfriend.

– Ana, let’s go somewhere after work tomorrow. You did a great job the first week. Gotta celebrate.

Jack smiles, and his face takes on an unfamiliar expression for a moment. I'm getting a little uncomfortable.

Putting his hands in his pockets, he walks through the double doors. I glare at his back. Is it okay to drink with the boss?

I shake my head. First, I still have to get through the evening with Christian Grey. Will I be able to do it?

“Only after you, Ana,” he mutters.

“Thanks,” I smile sheepishly.

Taylor is waiting for me at the curb. He opens the back door of the car. I look back hesitantly at Jack, who has followed me; my boss looks at the Audi SUV with concern.

I walk over and sit in the back seat. And there he sits, Christian Grey, in a gray suit, without a tie, the collar of a white shirt is thrown open. Gray eyes shine.

My mouth dries up instantly. He looks amazing, but for some reason he frowns, looking at me. Why?

- When was the last time you ate? he asks angrily as Taylor slams the door behind me.

- Hello, Christian. Yes, I'm glad to see you too.

- Don't talk to me. Answer. Anger flashes in his eyes.

“Well… I ate yogurt in the afternoon. Yes, another banana.

- When was the last time you ate well? he asks caustically.

Taylor gets behind the wheel, pulls the Audi off the road, and joins the traffic.

I look out the window. Jack waves at me, though I don't know how he sees me through the dark glass. I wave back.

- Who is it? Christian asks sharply.

- My boss. I look out of the corner of my eye at the handsome man sitting next to me. His lips are tightly compressed.

- Well? Your last normal meal?

“Christian, this is none of your business, honestly,” I mutter, feeling extraordinarily brave as I do so.

“Everything you do concerns me. Answer.

- Well? he insists, softer now.

“Last Friday, shell pasta,” I whisper back.

He closes his eyes. A shadow of anger and, probably, regret runs across his face.

“Understood,” he says flatly. “You look like you've lost a few pounds or more. Please eat, Anastasia.

I lower my eyes and look at my clasped fingers. Why do I always feel like a stupid, useless child next to him?

He turns to me.

- How are you? he asks softly.

Well, actually, it's terrible... I swallow the lump in my throat.

“If I say everything is fine, I’ll be lying.

He sighs breathlessly.

“So do I,” he mutters, and squeezes my hand. - I missed you.

Oh, No! I feel the warmth of his fingers on my skin.

Christian, I...

Ana, please, we need to talk.

Now I will pay. Not!

“Christian, I… don’t… I cried so much,” I whisper, trying to control my emotions.

I want to get out of his arms, to keep my distance, but I can't. He presses me to his chest. I'm dying of bliss. Ah, if only it were always like this!

A few minutes later, Taylor pulls the Audi to the curb even though we're still in town.

“Let's go,” Christian gently lifts me up, “we've arrived.

There's a helipad on the roof of the building. Christian tilts his head back and waves his hand.

Why, Charlie Tango, of course. Taylor opens the door for me, giving me a warm, patronizing smile. I smile back.

“I must return your handkerchief.

“Keep it to yourself, Miss Steele, with my best wishes.

I'm covered in paint. Christian steps out from behind the car and takes my hand. He looks questioningly at Taylor, who gives him a blank look.

- At nine? Christian says.

- Yes, sir.

“Oh my God,” I sigh, engulfed in the power of that instinctive attraction as old as life itself.

“I feel it too,” he says. His eyes are clouded with passion.

Desire fills my belly with dark, deadly plasma. Christian squeezes my hand, thumb caressing the crook of my little finger, and every muscle in my body tightens in a sweet spasm.

How does he have such power over me?

“Anastasia, don’t bite your lip,” he whispers.

I clench my teeth and look at him plaintively. I want it, immediately, here in the elevator. Can it be otherwise?

“You know what you mean to me.

Oh, so he needs me after all! My inner goddess, my self-esteem, was stirred after five days of hopelessness.

A tall, fair-haired guy with a square jaw jumps out of the cab and, crouching, runs towards us. After exchanging a firm handshake with Christian, he shouts over the noise of the rotors:

The car is ready, sir. At your disposal!

– Did you check everything?

- Yes, sir.

“Are you picking her up around eight-thirty?”

- Yes, sir.

“Taylor is waiting for you at the entrance.

Thank you Mr Grey. Happy flying to Portland. Ma'am…” He smiles politely at me.

Without releasing my hand, Christian nods to the pilot and, crouching, leads me to the helicopter doors.

Inside, he straps me in, tightening the straps tight. Significantly, with an enigmatic smile.

“Now you’re not going anywhere,” he mutters. “I have to admit, I like that bandage on you. Yes, don't touch anything.

He turns to me.

There is a mischievous, boyish grin on his lips. How long have I not seen her!

“Citac Tower, this is the Charlie Tango, the Golf Echo Hotel, ready to fly to Portland via PDX. How do you hear me? Reception.

“Roger, tower, this is the board of the Charlie Tango, end of communication.

Christian flips two toggle switches, takes hold of the control stick, and the helicopter slowly and smoothly takes off into the evening sky.

Seattle and my stomach are falling down, rapidly moving away from us.

“Once we chased the dawn, and she ran away from us, now we drive away the darkness,” his voice sounds in the headphones.

Fifty Shades Darker by Erica Leonard James is the second book in the 50 Shades of Gray book series. The second novel received the same great popularity as the first. The non-standard relationship between a rich man and an ordinary modest girl intrigued many, and of course, everyone is interested in what happened to them next.

As the relationship continues, Anastacia learns little by little about Gray's life before her. She will have to meet the woman who first seduced her lover. Gray's former slave will appear on the horizon, determined to get his attention again and endanger Ana's safety.

The heroine wants to explore the essence of her man more and more. He wants to understand what happened to him in childhood, why did he become that way? She tries to get information from his psychiatrist in order to understand what is going on in Christian's soul. But far from immediately she manages to find out the secret, what is the reason for his phobia to touch. Ana learns about the death of her mother, childhood trauma, the experiences of her beloved.

In this book there is a place for romance, for jealousy, the life of the characters is depicted in a more mundane way. There is room here for sensitive topics such as unwanted children. Anastacia admits that their intimate life is more interesting and unusual than the classic version. And for Gray, romanticism is something completely new, unknown. Christian proposes to Anya, but she is not ready to answer right away and decides to think it over.

At some point, Gray gets into a plane crash, but he manages to escape. Only at the end of the book it becomes clear that this was not accidental ...

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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.