50 Shades Darker – Chapter 18

Ana went to see Christian’s shrink and they had a chinwag about how he’s really messed up, but she’s so wonderful that she’s curing him without even trying. Now José’s coming to stay, but first Christian is taking Ana to a mystery destination!

Read Chapter Seventeen, or read the whole lot on ‘The Fifty Shades Saga‘ page.

50 Shades Darker
Chapter 18

We’re confronted by two ornate white metal gates … the gates swing open in welcome.

I have a horrible feeling he’s bought her a house.

The late evening breeze softly ripples through the grass and the evening sun gilds the wildflowers.

We get it. It’s evening.

The lane curves around and opens into a sweeping driveway in front of an impressive … house of pink sandstone. It’s palatial.

It’s a cliché, is what it is.

The dark wood doors open, and a woman with dark brown hair … stands waiting.
“Miss Kelly,” he says politely.

Nope, no idea.

Her isn’t-he-dreamily-gorgeous-wish-he-were-mine flush…

The hyphens are back! Hooray!

They go inside and there is a LOT MORE description of the house. It’s lavish, that’s pretty much the idea. They go out onto a terrace and it has a lovely view, which she describes using the word ‘wow’.

“How would you like to look at [this view] for the rest of your life?”

He did. He bought her a bloody house. Nay, a palace.

“This place hasn’t been on the market long. I want to buy it, demolish it, and build a new house – for us.”

Woah, woah, woah, you want to demolish it?

“I’d like to make a more sustainable home, using the latest ecological techniques.”

That’s right! Save the planet by knocking down a house and building a whole new one! Flawless!

“Can we look around the house?”
“Sure.” He shrugs, puzzled.

Strange, that she wants to LOOK AROUND the first mansion she’s ever set foot in.

“Couldn’t you make the existing house more ecological and self-sustaining?”

WHAT IS THIS WITCHCRAFT OF WHICH YOU SPEAK?

There are five additional bedrooms on this floor. Kids! …the grounds could accommodate riding stables and a paddock. Horses!

It’s like she has Tourette’s. Words!

To me the meadow looks like somewhere to lie in the long grass and have picnics, not for some four-legged fiend of Satan to roam.

Blimey! Where the hell did this sudden horse hatred come from?

“I love the view and the house that’s here.”

Ask and ye shall receive. Apparently working for your own house is no longer an option.

“You’re going to have to learn to be rich, too, if you say yes,” he says softly.
“Wealth isn’t something I’ve ever aspired to.”

No, you’re far too bloody noble for that.

“But … you’ve never been hungry.”

So, you have to have starved at some point to really appreciate wealth.

“We’re going to celebrate … your acting editor role.”
“Oh yes.” I grin. Unbelievably, I had forgotten.

Unbelievably, so had I, and now I’m angry again.

They go to one of Christian’s clubs. It’s in a very high building and is adventurously called The Mile High Club. I’d roll my eyes if I wasn’t afraid Christian would burst in and fuck me.

“Go and take your panties off,” he whispers.

You can’t say no because he’s going to buy you a house.

The restrooms are the height of modern design.

She describes the FREAKING BATHROOMS!

…how can I resist him? Issues, schmissues.

That’s the way to deal with a man who was abused as a child.

My inner goddess is draped in a pink feather boa and diamonds, strutting her stuff in fuck-me shoes.

Apparently your inner goddess is a drag queen.

There’s an oyster-eating scene. It’s so sexy she practically slips off her chair.

“This time I hope to get to fuck you.”
Gah!

That’s the noise I make when I’m in the mood, too.

“Speaking of contracts … the NDA.”
“Tear it up,” he says simply.

And who said romance was dead?

I take a bite out of my sea bass. It is melt-in-the-mouth delicious.

Stop trying to make seafood sexy.

I dip the asparagus into the hollandaise sauce, swirling the tip around and around.

Stop trying to make vegetables sexy.

I stand to leave, conscious that I am not wearing any panties.

Stop trying to make Ana sexy.

They leave and get in an elevator with some other people.

…his hand travels swiftly up my leg, skating deliciously over my skin – whoa – right up.
“Always so ready, Miss Steele,” he whispers as he slips a finger inside me.

They’re all standing with their backs to Christian and Ana, but STILL.

We halt again at the forty-fourth floor.

This must be the slowest freaking elevator in the world.

The elevator is getting crowded … the people are chatting away, totally oblivious.

Believe me, they’re not. Someone definitely knows what’s going on and is feeling REALLY awkward about it.

“Don’t come,” he whispers. “I want that later.”

Come, just to spite him.

She doesn’t. They get in the car and drive back to his building, saying teasing things to each other all the way. Finally they get into the apartment and this scene – which has been torturous, but not in an erotic way – is reaching its climax.

He turns and lays me on the foyer table, so he’s standing between my legs. I’m aware that the usual vase of flowers is missing. Huh?

You’re not telling me you’ve spent over an hour in a state of high arousal and you still notice that a bunch of flowers ISN’T there?

I revel in it, glory in it, watching him, watching me – his passion, his love – as we come apart together.

Thank God for that.

I open my eyes; it’s morning.

A mercifully brief description.

“Don’t go.”
“Miss Steele – are you trying to keep a man from an honest day’s work?”

I don’t think he realises the absolute TRAGIC IRONY of that statement.

He goes. She’s has an idea for a birthday present for him and for some reason goes rummaging in his drawers. She finds a large box and opens it: photos from the Red Room. Other women. And even though she KNOWS about his past exploits, she’s still pissed.

Those photos are BA – Before Ana.

You may have a magic vagina, but comparing yourself to Jesus is a step too far.

[I] drive in to work. As I sit down at my desk, my BlackBerry buzzes.

It’s an email from Christian. Well, she got a promotion by not doing any work, so I don’t know why she’d start now.

Priapic is right. I wonder idly what the female equivalent might be.

‘Priapic’. Of or relating to the phallus. I don’t know what these two sentences could possibly mean.

When I next glance at my BlackBerry, to my horror I realize it’s four in the afternoon.

How horrible! To have gone all that time without procrastinating!

He hasn’t replied to her last cheeky email (in which she mentioned that she was getting him a birthday present), so she emails and then LEAVES HIM A VOICEMAIL to check that he’s still talking to her. How insecure in your relationship do you have to be?

My phone rings unexpectedly … it’s Kate, my best friend, finally!

Thanks for the unnecessary exposition.

“I’m having drinks with José. Join us.”
“Sure! Text me where. Laters!”

Kate’s picked up on Elliott’s lingo. It’s sickening.

How am I going to tell her all that has happened? I should write it down so I don’t forget anything.

I would have thought this was a joke, but the passage ends there so I guess she’s serious.

An hour later José arrives.

“Ana, wow! You look great. So grown-up.”

Now the obligatory Ana-praising is over, can we move on?

“You found Christian’s place okay?”

You can probably see Christian’s place from space.

“And I’ve been commissioned to do some landscapes for the Portland Tourist Board.”

Yeh, José, nobody cares. We just want to hear about Christian and Ana fucking.

“No hot babe to keep you busy?” I ask.

Did you really just use ‘hot babe’ in conversation?

I turn and there’s Kate with Ethan. Oh, how I’ve missed this woman!

You mean ‘how I’ve missed this hot babe’.

“You’ve lost weight. A lot of weight. And you look different. Grown-up. I like your dress. Suits you.”

Seriously, this is getting ridiculous. Why won’t anybody just fucking say hello to Ana?

I am not ready for the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition just yet.

She’s been here seconds and you’re already being bloody rude.

“Ethan says some mad stalker ex-girlfriend was in the apartment with a gun?”
“Well … yeah.” Oh jeez, do we have to do this now?

Seriously, you may as well not have friends at all.

“Ana.” Elliott’s voice is clipped and quiet. “It’s Christian. His helicopter has gone missing.”

*Kneels, clenches fists and looks up at the sky* Nooooooooooo!


Read Chapter Nineteen.

Why not let me know what you think? You can buy the book here, or the entire trilogy, if you’re a glutton for punishment. Ironically.

About abusive relationships
Domestic violence helpline 0808 2000 247
Help for abused men 0808 801 0327

About eating disorders
Eating disorder helpline 0845 634 1414

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6 Comments on “50 Shades Darker – Chapter 18

  1. There was coffee all over my laptop screen becaue of “Stop trying to make Ana sexy.” – But it was SO worth it!

    And OMFG who stole the helicopter? Is gun weilding psycho back? Is it Ana’s ex boss? Is it Mrs. Robinson? The Butler? The Cook? WHO STOLE THE BLOODY HELICOPTER? I CANNOT WAIT TO KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    • And more importantly, who stole Christian? Because he was in the helicopter at the time, I think (although I must say it was pretty unclear from the writing…!).

  2. Ana can “glory in it”? How do you glory in something? Can you glory out of something? Can you just glory? How does one glory? I need to know!!!

  3. Maybe you can only “glory” in something if youu have a magical abused-as-a-child-s&m-obsessed-young-billionaire-with-many-issues curing vagina. And did Elliot go with Kate and Ethan to meet up with Ana and Jose to tell her about the missing helicopter? Or did he call her? When did he tell her?

    • I believe Elliot came along to the drinks, then someone called him and he passed on the news. Christian is missing! Oh nooooo!

What do you think?