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“Are you going to follow through?” I arch a brow, unsure how I feel about this. I mean, the others will hear us, for heaven’s sake. Suddenly, I feel shy. Glancing anxiously at the bed, I feel a blush steal across my cheeks as I recall our wedding night. We talked so much yesterday, did so much yesterday. I feel as if we 258/551

leaped some unknown hurdle—but that’s the problem. It’s unknown. My eyes find Christian’s intense but amused gaze, and I’m unable to keep a straight face.

His grin is too infectious.

“I think it might be rude to keep our guests waiting,” he says silkily as he steps toward me. When did he start to care what people think? I step back against the cabin wall and he imprisons me, the heat from his body holding me in place.

He leans down and runs his nose along mine.

“Good surprise?” he whispers, and there’s a hint of anxiety in his voice.

“Oh, Christian, fantastic surprise.” I run my hands up his chest, curl them around his neck, and kiss him.

“When did you organize this?” I ask when I pull away from him, stroking his hair.

“Last night, when I couldn’t sleep. I e-mailed Elliot and Mia, and here they are.”

“It’s very thoughtful. Thank you. I’m sure we’ll have a great time.”

“I hope so. I thought it would be easier to avoid the press in Aspen than at home.”

The paparazzi! He’s right. If we’d stayed in Escala, we’d have been imprisoned. A shiver runs down my spine as I recollect the snapping cameras and dazzling flashes of the few photographers Taylor sped through this morning.

“Come. We’d better take our seats—Stephan will be taking off shortly.” He offers me his hand and together we walk back into the cabin.

Elliot cheers as we enter. “That sure was speedy in-flight service!” he calls mockingly.

Christian ignores him.

“Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen as we’ll shortly begin taxiing for takeoff.” Stephan’s voice echoes calmly and authoritatively around the cabin. The brunette woman— um . . . Natalie? —who was on the flight for our wedding night appears from the galley and gathers up the discarded coffee cups. Natalia . . . Her name’s Natalia.

“Good morning Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey,” she says with a purr. Why does she make me uncomfortable? Maybe it’s that she’s a brunette. By his own admission, Christian doesn’t usually employ brunettes because he finds them attractive. He gives Natalia a polite smile as he slides in behind the table and sits down facing Elliot and Kate. I swiftly hug Kate and Mia and give Ethan and Elliot a wave 259/551

before sitting down and buckling up beside Christian. He puts his hand on my knee and gives it an affectionate squeeze. He seems relaxed and happy even though we’re with company. Idly, I wonder why he can’t always be like this—not controlling at all.

“Hope you packed your hiking boots,” he says, his voice warm.

“We’re not going skiing?”

“That would be a challenge, in August,” he says, amused.

Oh, of course.

“Do you ski, Ana?” Elliot interrupts us.

“No.”

Christian moves his hand from my knee to clasp my hand.

“I’m sure my little brother can teach you.” Elliot winks at me. “He’s pretty fast on the slopes, too.”

And I can’t help my blush. When I glance up at Christian, he’s gazing impassively at Elliot, but I think he’s trying to suppress his mirth. The plane surges forward and starts taxiing toward the runway.

Natalia runs through the plane’s safety procedures in a clear, ringing voice.

She’s dressed in a neat navy short-sleeved shirt and matching pencil skirt. Her makeup is immaculate—she really is quite pretty. My subconscious raises a plucked-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life eyebrow at me.

“You okay?” Kate asks me pointedly. “I mean, following the Hyde business?”

I nod. I don’t want to think or talk about Hyde, but Kate seems to have other plans.

“So why did he go postal?” she asks, cutting to the heart of the matter in her inimitable style. She tosses her hair behind her as she prepares to investigate the matter.

Eyeing her coolly, Christian shrugs. “I fired his ass,” he says bluntly.

“Oh? Why?” Kate tilts her head to one side, and I know she’s in full Nancy Drew mode.

“He made at pass at me,” I mutter. I try to kick Kate’s ankle beneath the table, and miss. Shit!

“When?” Kate glares at me.

“Ages ago.”

“You never told me he made a pass at you!” she splutters.

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I shrug, apologetically.

“It can’t just be a grudge about that, surely. I mean his reaction is way too ex-treme,” Kate continues, but now she directs her questions at Christian. “Is he mentally unstable? What about all the information he has on you Greys?” Her grilling Christian this way makes my hackles rise, but she’s already established I know nothing so she can’t ask me. The thought is annoying.

“We think there’s a connection with Detroit,” Christian says mildly. Too mildly. Oh no, Kate, please give it up for now.

“Hyde is from Detroit, too?”

Christian nods.