Fifty Shades Darker (book 5) novel Chapter 95

“Elena?” I say, wondering why the hell she’s here.

She looks from me to Ana. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company, Christian. It’s Monday,” she says.

“Girlfriend,” I clarify.

Submissives only on the weekend, Mrs. Lincoln. You know this.

“Of course. Hello, Anastasia. I didn’t know you’d be here. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I accept that.”

“Do you?” Ana’s tone is deadly.

Hell.

Elena walks toward us. “Yes, I get the message. I’m not here to see you. Like I said, Christian rarely has company during the week.” She pauses and addresses Ana directly. “I have a problem, and I need to talk to Christian about it.”

“Oh? Do you want a drink?” I ask.

“Yes, please,” she says.

I fetch a glass. When I turn they are both sitting in awkward silence at the kitchen island.

Shit.

This day. This day. This day. It just gets better and better.

I pour wine into both of their glasses and take a seat between them.

“What’s up?” I ask Elena.

Elena’s eyes dart to Ana.

“Anastasia’s with me now.” I reach across and give Ana’s hand a reassuring squeeze in the hope that she keeps quiet. The sooner Elena says her piece, the sooner she’ll be gone.

Elena looks nervous, unlike her usual self. She twists her ring, a sure sign that something is agitating her. “I’m being blackmailed.”

“How?” I ask, appalled. She pulls a note out of her purse. I don’t want to touch it. “Put it down, lay it out.” I point with my chin at the marble top and tighten my hold on Ana’s hand.

“You don’t want to touch it?” Elena asks.

“No. Fingerprints.”

“Christian, you know I can’t go to the police with this.” She puts the note on the counter. It’s written in capital letters.

MRS LINCOLN

FIVE THOUSAND

OR I TELL ALL.

“They’re only asking for five thousand dollars?” That doesn’t seem right. “Any idea who it might be? Someone in the community?”

“No,” she responds.

“Linc?”

“What—after all this time? I don’t think so.”

“Does Isaac know?”

“I haven’t told him.”

“I think he needs to know.”

Ana tugs at her hand. She wants out.

“What?” I ask Ana.

“I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed,” she says.

I search her face to see what she’s really thinking, and as usual I have no idea.