Linotte Reads “Fifty Shades Darker”: Chapter Four

Happy Monday, all! It’s time for another recap of Fifty Shades Darker. This time we’re on Chapter Four, and it gets far worse than the other ones. Are we ready? Let’s go!

“˜I am very glad to hear it, Mr. Grey, and I thought you said that sarcasm was the lowest form of wit.’
“˜Well, Anastasia, my new motto is if you can’t beat “˜em, join “˜em.’
I gape at him–I can’t believe he’s just said that–and he looks sickeningly pleased with himself as he grins at me.

Well, this is one crass joke, isn’t it?

My inner goddess is doing a triple axel dismount off the uneven bars, and abruptly my mouth is dry.

It sounds like she’s mixing gymnastics and figure skating together. So her inner goddess is an ice gymnast? Is she doing uneven bar tricks on the ice?

Taking another spoonful, he offers me more. This time I keep my mouth shut and shake my head, and he lets it slowly melt on the spoon so that the melted ice cream drips, onto my throat, onto my chest. He dips down and very slowly licks it off. My body lights up with longing.

And I try, I try to stay still despite the heady combination of cold and his inflaming touch. But my hips start to move involuntarily, gyrating to their own rhythm, caught up in his cool vanilla spell.

Doesn’t this sounds like a boy band song? “Ooh, baby, baby, we’re in my bed, and I’m caught up in your cool vanilla spell! Oh, baby, baby, give it up to me! Your coo-oo-oool vanilla spell, it tastes so fine!”

The girl who looks like me is standing outside SIP. Hang on–she is me. I am pale and unwashed, and all my clothes are too big; I’m staring at her, and she’s wearing my clothes–happy, healthy.
“˜What do you have that I don’t?’ I ask her.
“˜Who are you?’
“˜I’m nobody . . . Who are you? Are you nobody, too . . . ?’
“˜Then there’s a pair of us–don’t tell, they’d banish us, you know . . .’ She smiles, a slow, evil grimace that spreads across her face, and it’s so chilling that I start to scream.

Here’s the thing with doppelgangers again. Is there going to be some crazy plot twist in which Ana ends up in an insane asylum supposedly as the doppelganger who’s under the delusion that she’s Ana? Only time will tell!

I put the kettle on the stove and busy myself with teacups and the teapot. My anxiety level has shot to DEFCON ONE. Is he going to tell me the problem? Or am I going to have to dig?

Me? What would she want with me? “˜What do you have that I don’t?’
I stare at Fifty, magnificently naked from the waist up. I have him; he’s mine. That’s what I have, and yet she looked like me: same dark hair and pale skin. I frown at the thought. Yes . . . what do I have that she doesn’t?

I don’t know. I can’t think of it! It’s so hard! What do you think it is, Ana?

I flush as memories of the playroom flood my mind. Yes . . . the Red Room of Pain is exhausting. Is he going to let me back in there? Do I want to go back in?
Of course you do! My inner goddess screams at me from her chaise longue.

And she’s arguing with her inner goddess again. It was only a matter of time.

“˜Deposited in your bank account, Monday. Don’t play games with me.’ He’s boiling mad, but I don’t care.
“˜Twenty-four thousand dollars!’ I’m almost screaming. “˜And how do you know my account number?’

Maybe he had a check written and deposited into your account. Either way, take the money and shut up.

And that’s all for today! See you later this week for Chapter Five!