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- Э. Л. Джеймс
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”
“
That
is
such
a
lovely
sound
,
”
he
murmurs
,
and
he
leans
forward
and
kisses
me
.
“
And
you
are
hiding
something
,
Anastasia
.
I
may
have
to
torture
it
out
of
you
.
”
*
*
*
I
wake
with
a
jolt
.
I
think
I
’
ve
just
fallen
down
some
stairs
in
a
dream
,
and
I
bolt
upright
,
momentarily
disoriented
.
It
is
dark
,
and
I
’
m
in
Christian
’
s
bed
alone
.
Something
has
woken
me
,
some
nagging
thought
.
I
glance
over
at
the
alarm
clock
on
his
bedside
.
It
is
five
in
the
morning
,
but
I
feel
rested
.
Why
is
that
?
Oh
—
it
’
s
the
time
difference
—
it
would
be
eight
a
.
m
.
in
Georgia
.
Holy
crap
…
I
need
to
take
my
pill
.
I
clamber
out
of
bed
,
grateful
for
whatever
it
is
that
has
woken
me
.
I
can
hear
faint
notes
from
the
piano
.
Christian
is
playing
.
This
I
must
see
.
I
love
watching
him
play
.
Naked
,
I
grab
my
bathrobe
from
the
chair
and
wander
quietly
down
the
corridor
,
slipping
on
my
robe
and
listening
to
the
magical
sound
of
the
melodic
lament
that
’
s
coming
from
the
great
room
.
Shrouded
in
darkness
,
Christian
sits
in
a
bubble
of
light
as
he
plays
,
and
his
hair
glints
with
burnished
copper
highlights
.
He
looks
naked
,
though
I
know
he
’
s
wearing
his
PJ
bottoms
.
He
’
s
concentrating
,
playing
beautifully
,
lost
in
the
melancholy
of
the
music
.
I
hesitate
,
watching
from
the
shadows
,
not
wanting
to
interrupt
him
.
I
want
to
hold
him
.
He
looks
lost
,
sad
even
,
and
achingly
lonely
—
or
maybe
it
’
s
just
the
music
that
’
s
so
full
of
poignant
sorrow
.
He
finishes
the
piece
,
pauses
for
a
split
second
,
then
starts
to
play
it
again
.
I
move
cautiously
toward
him
,
drawn
as
the
moth
to
the
flame
…
the
idea
makes
me
smile
.
He
glances
up
at
me
and
frowns
before
his
gaze
returns
to
his
hands
.
Oh
,
crap
,
is
he
pissed
off
that
I
am
disturbing
him
?
“
You
should
be
asleep
,
”
he
scolds
mildly
.
I
can
tell
he
’
s
preoccupied
with
something
.
“
So
should
you
,
”
I
retort
not
quite
as
mildly
.
