Fifty Shades Darker (book 5) novel Chapter 104

“What is it, Ros?”

“It’s Woods.”

“Woods?”

“Lucas Woods.”

“Oh yes. The idiot who ran his fiber-optic company into the ground and then blamed everyone else.”

“The same. He’s doing some rather negative press.”

“And?”

“Sam is concerned about the PR fallout. Woods has gone public about the takeover. How we came in and didn’t let him continue to run the company the way he wanted.”

I snort my derision. “There’s a good reason for that. He’d be bankrupt by now if he’d continued the way he was going.”

“True.”

“Tell Sam that I know Woods sounds convincing to those who don’t know his story, but those who know him realize that he reached a level beyond his ability and made some really bad decisions. He’s got no one to blame but himself.”

“So you’re not worried.”

“About him? No. He’s a pretentious asshole. The community knows.”

“We could go after him for defamation, and he’s breached his NDA.”

“Why would we do that? He’s the kind that feeds off publicity. He’s been given enough rope to hang himself. Though he should grow some balls and let it go.”

“I thought you’d say that. Sam is agitated.”

“Sam just needs some perspective. He always overreacts to bad press.”

As I glance out of the window, there’s a young man with a duffel bag walking with purpose toward the apartment door.

Ros is continuing to talk, but I ignore her. The man looks familiar. He’s sporting the beach-bum look: long blond hair, tanned. Recognition and apprehension hit me at once.

It’s Ethan Kavanagh.

Shit. Who let Ana into the apartment?

“Ros, I have to go,” I bark into the phone as fear grips my chest.

Ana.

I fly out of the car. “Taylor, follow me,” I shout, and we rush toward Ethan Kavanagh, who’s about to put the key in the lock. He turns in alarm to see us barreling toward him.

“Kavanagh. I’m Christian Grey. Ana’s upstairs with someone who could be armed. Wait here.” There’s a spark of recognition in his expression, but wordlessly—confused I think—he relinquishes hold of the key. I’m through the door and running up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

I burst into the apartment and there they are.

A face-off.

Ana and Leila.

And Leila’s holding a gun.

No. No. No. A fucking gun.

And Ana is here. Alone. Vulnerable. Panic and fury burst inside me.

I want to lunge at Leila. Take the gun. Bring her down. But I freeze and check Ana. Her eyes are wide with fright and something I can’t name. Compassion, maybe? But to my relief, she’s unharmed.

The sight of Leila is a shock. Not only does she have her fingers wrapped around a gun, but she’s lost so much weight. She’s filthy. Her clothes are in tatters and her clouded brown eyes are expressionless. A lump forms in my throat and I don’t know if it’s fear or empathy.

But my biggest concern is that she’s still holding a gun with Ana in the room.