Updated on August 5, 2015
50 Shades Darker – Chapter 15
Ugh. They talked it out. I won’t even reiterate exactly what they talked about because we’ve heard it three billion times before. Everything seemed fine, but then Christian revealed that he fancies Ana because she looks like his dead mum, and she freaked out and ran off crying. Sigh.
50 Shades Darker
He pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly, and I finally drift off into a dark and troubled sleep.
Oh no! He’s comforting you and hugging you to sleep! YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS DOOMED.
I find a carton of orange juice and pour myself a glass. Mmm … it’s delicious.
Just ‘I had a drink’ would have sufficed.
I have so much to think about.
Yes. Please don’t do it on my time.
Could I live here, married to Christian?
Oh, you are going to think about it now.
I feel world-weary, but I’m enjoying the calm serenity of the great room and its beautiful works of art.
It seems like EL James has taken lessons from the Dan Brown school of description.
The peaceful tranquillity is shattered by a visceral, primeval cry
Quick! More adjectives!
He’s tossing and turning, writhing in agony.
Shit – a nightmare!
Probably dreaming that he married you. Oh, burn!
“You were gone,” he whispers rapidly.
Oh for fuck’s sake, there’s not even any subtlety in their nightmares. Any normal person would turn their real problems into dreams about teeth falling out or insects under their skin.
His lips are at my ear, my throat, then back at my mouth
Had a bad dream? Sex. Got a new job? Sex. Trimmed your fingernails? Better have sex.
“I want you,” he murmurs.
“I’m here for you. Only you, Christian.”
There’s so much substance here, I might as well be reading marshmallows.
His words from earlier … come back and haunt me. And it’s like a bucket of cold water on my libido.
Bloody hell, the first time ever that Ana hasn’t been in the mood.
“Oh, Ana, don’t overthink this.”
Ha! You may as well tell me not be sarcastic.
His strangled moan arouses me like nothing else.
And you think he’s fucked up?
I groan and run my fingernails across his back. And he gasps, a strangled moan.
You may have forgotten you just used the phrase ‘strangled moan’, but I haven’t.
I groan as he moves his fingers around inside me, in that way.
Ooh yeh, I love it when he does that thing, in that way, with that. Mmm.
“Steady,” he says. “You are going to unman me, Ana.”
I snorted when I read that terrible sentence.
The sex scene continues. It is SO predictable and SO repetitive and SO badly written that, for the millionth time since I started reading this series, I have to stop and reassess how this, THIS has become the bestselling book of all time. I just DESPAIR.
“I was serious about marrying you. We can get to know each other then.”
Um, pretty sure that’s not how marriage should work.
“You look good,” Christian purrs. “You can call in sick, you know.”
For God’s sake, will you just let her go to work without trying to stop her every time?
He gives me his devastating, lopsided, 150 percent panty-busting smile.
THIS IS SO FUCKING AWFUL WHY DOES ANYONE READ THIS.
“What can I do to tempt you to stay?” he says.
How about, not be a misogynist?
Taylor drives her to work (of course) and Jack snaps at her when she gets in, because she’s late.
Maybe I should have ditched. I could be … doing something hot with Christian.
Woo. Girl power.
I check my emails.
Oh no, please don’t.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Missing you
Crap, we’re going down the rabbit hole. Again.
“You don’t have to work, Anastasia.
Oh, and marry me, please.”
He is such a breathtakingly awful human being, I have no words.
“I need to talk to your shrink. Only then will I give you my answer.”
If you need to consult a SHRINK before you answer someone’s PROPOSAL, your answer should probably be NO.
José calls. Christian has bought all the photos of her and he wants to deliver them, and crash at her place. Naturally she’s going to have to ask permission, and this is the relationship we’re meant to aspire to.
“I don’t know what you’re doing out there, but I pay you to work,” barks Jack.
About time someone told her off for pissing her time away on emails.
Jack is beginning to piss me off.
I’m sure the feeling’s mutual. Do your fucking job.
Holy fuck. He’s being unbearable.
He’s not. YOU ARE, YOU INCOMPETENT TWAT.
“Jack, is there something wrong?”
“No.” His answer is rude.
It isn’t. And don’t just tell me it’s rude. MAKE IT ACTUALLY RUDE.
Perhaps he, too, suffers from personality disorder. Sheesh, I’m surrounded by them.
Ever thought it might be your fault?
She takes yet another personal phone call. It’s Ethan. She describes having a literal MONTAGE of images flash through her mind, followed by a list of everything we saw in the last chapter, for some fucking reason. He’s coming to her office to get the keys to her flat.
“Where have you been?” Jack says.
Another unreasonable question from a man trying to run a business. Doesn’t he know she’s got important things to sort out?
Why didn’t I stay home with Christian?
Because you have a JOB and you can’t just take days off, no matter how rich your boyfriend is.
She doesn’t check her emails for an hour. THERE ARE THREE EMAILS FROM CHRISTIAN ASKING IF SHE’S OK. She calls him to tell him that she is. I wish they would leave each other THE FUCK alone.
“Hang up,” I scold, smiling.
“You hang up.”
This isn’t cute. It’s vomit-inducing, and I can’t believe he’s a day older than 15.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood to list your misdemeanours right now,” says Jack.
Whoa … What have I done?
Nothing. That’s the point. Although I’ll bet any money that isn’t the line EL James is going with, because Ana is always above reproach.
My mind drifts. Can I really marry this man?
Just get back to me when you’ve decided. You do not need to show your workings.
Looking back on my life before Christian, it’s as if everything was in black and white. Now my whole world is in rich, bright, saturated colour.
So, your life is like a cheesy American advert for diahorrea tablets?
Flying with Christian – who can resist a man who can fly?
Me. Because I am afraid of flying.
I want to be all things to this man … because he is all things to me.
Listen, why is this the image of perfect love? Can’t you be madly in love with someone without them being your whole world? Maybe I’m a horrible cynic, but I think you can have a healthy, loving relationship, whilst also maintaining yourself as a separate entity. Ana: discuss.
Jack told her to take 45 minutes for lunch, but she daydreams for an hour. What’s more, when he asks her where she’s been, she LIES and says she’s been photocopying in another room.
I … stick my tongue out at him as he closes the door. Bastard.
You are a sickeningly unprofessional, barefaced liar.
Claire rings from Reception.
Please stop capitalising reception.
“I have Mia Grey on the line for you.”
Ah good, another personal phone call!
“I’m arranging a birthday party for Christian. It’s on Saturday.”
I can barely contain my excitement.
She emails him to ask what he wants for his birthday. They have some kinky chat (I want you to spank me, I’m tearing through my pants thinking about you, etc). She still isn’t doing any work.
Jack stares at me. “Well, Ana, I think this might be a good time to discuss your misdemeanours. At last I have you on your own,” he slowly licks his lower lip. “Are you going to be a good girl and listen very carefully to what I say?”
He was perfectly right for being angry at her, but now he’s going to be all creepy and we’ll conveniently forget that she’s been completely impossible all day.
Read Chapter Sixteen.