A/N: The inspiration of my writing came from a couple episodes of Grey's Anatomy as well as a monologue from an episode from You. For those that are curious, I will try posting at least once a week, but usually I post twice a week on Mondays and Wednesdays. If I get really creative, then I may surprise you all with an extra chapter! It depends on how strong my creative writing is!

And also, thank you for so much of the kind and warm welcome to my second story; it makes me really happy reading your responses and your thoughts on what I am writing.

Song of the Chapter – Saturday Nights | Khalid feat. Kane Brown


Present day … Thursday, June 28, 2018

Minnesota was a freezing tundra of endless winter during the beginning of the summertime season, but the young surgeon had gotten used to the cold. With everything that she had endured in the past two months, death-dropping temperatures below her normal, comfortable weather weren't going to stop her from pursing her dreams and career. Her time in at the Mayo Clinic had finally come to an end, just when she was getting well-acquainted with her new home and surroundings. It was a familiar feeling that paralleled to almost every event in her life, and she was determined to quit her habits of letting things get personal to her.

However, she had gotten used to the numbing weather. The cardiothoracic surgeon's current journey was full of life and meaning; she had done what she wanted and learned from the best mentors in the best hospital of Minnesota, but still, life was cold and empty. She was unhappy, and every day was tasking and grueling for her—fake, plastered smiles as she learned new surgical techniques while repeating the same lecture of The Steele Method doctors and surgeons came to hear and see from all over the country. She couldn't care less about the fame, but she didn't mind sharing her knowledge. It was one of the main reasons why she hadn't done any interviews with television programs, magazines, newspapers, or any news outlet—she knew the story of her success would lead back to her young age and her tragic past.

In the back of her mind, and deep down in the darkness of her heart, Christian Grey was forever sealed in her soul. From coffee to breakfast, to the airplanes she flew in, to the suits and ties people were dressed in—her day always began with a reminding thought of the dominant she was once with, and she couldn't rid him from her thoughts. How would she forget someone that she loved? Not "loved," but still love.

Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but she didn't feel any part of herself being mended. As time moved forward, her scars never healed—they lied in the cold, suffering from the lack of warmth, care, and love she needed. Time didn't do anything but slowly move around its clock. Time was a reminder of the days she wasn't with the gray-eyed man she had fallen for, the days that made each waking day brutal. Even as time went on, Anastasia was frozen—frozen in the dark and frozen in the numbing ice—but the clock kept ticking and the cold kept blowing.

It had been forty-two days. Forty two days of no contact, forty-two days of no witty comments or emails, forty-two days of no smiles or kisses, and forty-two days empty of Christian.

In the archetype of the beauty and the beast, who was the beauty and who was the beast? The brunette believed she was neither and that Christian was both. The only thing she knew was that she had fallen for the man, and she was just a simple doctor who pulled a beautiful prince from his broken carriage, falling in love with a man that couldn't love her back. There was beast inside everyone, and as the cliché woman that she had become, she wanted to love him—to tame him and draw out the Prince Charming she knew was underneath.

Being invisible all her life, the young doctor was finally seen, and the one person that saw her was a man she wasn't meant to be with. Nevertheless, she couldn't help herself; she was drawn to him like a moth to a burning flame. Christian crowned her and cherished her like nobody ever had before, one would say it could have been interpreted as love, but his words to her intoxicated her deep like poison. No, you can't love me, Ana—no… that's wrong… Deep down, she knew that from the beginning that it was too good to be true, but she let herself be swept because her prince was the first to notice her—the first man strong enough to lift her, to lift and carry her away from her insecurities and who she was because in the end, she was just Anastasia Steele and that was enough for him and her.

I miss you. I miss you so much.

On the way to the airport, Anastasia said to her old mentor with a shy smile, "You didn't have to drive me, Dr. Thomas. I could have easily gotten and been driven in a cab."

"Nonsense," the old surgeon replied with a waving hand. "I want to see our journey out and to the end."

Checking the time on her phone as he drove, she found an email from her favorite plastic surgeon.

From: Jackson Avery

Subject: Can't wait to see you

Date: June 28, 2018 13:15 PST

To: Anastasia Steele

I hope your tour and fame of being a CF winner has been fun, but it's time for you to come home. I know that it's important for people to know your method, but you need to get your ass back in Seattle, Dr. Steele.

How can our hospital brag that our new head of cardio is one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the west coast when she isn't here?

Such a disappointment, Anastasia.

Jackson Avery, M.D., F.A.C.S

Head of Plastic Surgery, Attending ENT, & Attending Plastic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital

Board Chairman of Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital and The Catherine Fox Foundation

The brunette rolled her eyes and chuckled, replying back.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: What a misleading title introduction

Date: June 28, 2018 15:17 CST

To: Jackson Avery

Thank you for such a hostile welcome. It makes me so excited to come back to Seattle in welcoming arms.

My flight is in forty minutes. I will see you at 5 p.m. your time. So, relax, Avery. Needless to say, I'm excited to come home, too. It's been long for it only being a month.

Anastasia R. Steele, Ph.D., M.D., F.A.C.S

Head of Cardiothoracic Surgery & Attending Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital

From: Jackson Avery

Subject: What a misleading title introduction

Date: June 28, 2018 13:20 PST

To: Anastasia Steele

It's good to have you back. Maybe we can grab dinner after your lecture in Seattle?

I'll see you then, Ana. Have a safe flight.

Jackson Avery, M.D., F.A.C.S

Head of Plastic Surgery, Attending ENT, & Attending Plastic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital

Board Chairman of Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital and The Catherine Fox Foundation

Anastasia grinned at her phone and shook her head. Hanging out with Jackson was exactly what she needed to destress and unwind. She had one more thing to do before she began her new job at Grey-Sloan. It really wasn't a new job, however, just a new title with a couple newer responsibilities. As the head of her department, she had control over all the cardiothoracic attendings as well as their surgeries and procedures, now that she was their boss. An intimidating power complex would be a struggle at first, due to her age, but it was an obstacle she hoped she could overcome just as she did at Mayo.

Pulling up to the drop off at the airport, her old mentor smiled warmly as he helped carry her luggage out of the trunk of his car. "Are we set? Do we have everything?" His old, crinkly eyes were expectant with lifting brows as he asked his question.

The young surgeon sighed, breathing in the cold air one final time, as she turned to the old surgeon. "I do," she said softly with a warm smile.

"I taught you everything you know," Dr. Thomas sighed contently. He added, "In so little as four weeks, too."

With her dark locks flowing against the chilly, breezing wind, Anastasia tucked her hair behind her ear and approached him, "It was an honor, sir. I'll never forget this. I promise."

"Thank God, I never had any children," the old man joked and chuckled, "otherwise they would be terrible like you."

She opened her mouth and gasped, making a face before giggle, "Excuse me? I'm your dream come true, grandpa."

"That…" Dr. Thomas paused for a second and smiled with more compassion and warmth, "is the truth."

The young surgeon's face dropped, eyes glimmering with cloudy tears. She was unsure if it was from the cold or the surge of emotion in the little time she had been with the sweet, old man. She looked down and smiled weakly, nodding at his sweet words. He continued, "You will be the best surgeon of your generation." He gently took a hold of her hands, rubbing them through his gloves, "I knew it as soon as I met you, Dr. Steele. People will try to diminish you as they did me, but they will fail. I know you won't."

She cleared her throat and blinked rapidly, trying to suck in her welling tears, nodding silently at his words. The old surgeon smiled reassuringly, "Life's too short, so take what you want and seize your moment, okay?" He opened his arms.

Nodding with determination, she bent down to his height and hugged him warmly. She promised him, "I will."

Dr. Thomas waved a final good bye as Anastasia smiled and entered the airport. Who would've thought that I would've viewed my examiner as a friend? Or my grandpa? She chuckled quietly to herself and began checking in to her flight after waiting in line through TSA. When she got on the plane, she decided to rest, reenergizing her body for her final presentation of her aortic dissection in the home of its birth—Grey-Sloan's lecture room.

Anastasia's hospital was just as nostalgic as the cities of Seattle. When she landed, she dropped her items in her newly-bought condominium. Because she was going to give out a presentation on "The Steele Method," she dressed herself more professionally, changing out of her jeans and blouse and into a tight-fitting, black dress that favored the curves and cleavage of her body. She was out the door in new, uncomfortable heels and her white coat.

Ugh, ouch. Why can't doctors just dress in sweats instead of all this professional crap. She rolled her eyes. Just for tonight, Steele. You can do it.

She ruffled her dark curls and fingered them through as she walked towards the hospital. It wasn't as close like it had been with her former apartment, but it wasn't so bad of walking distance. Her current black heels made her think otherwise, however.

The young surgeon arrived through the double doors of the hospital, being greeted by many fellow staff members and people she didn't recognize. She kindly and shyly waved and nodded at them, heading to the auditorium of the building. The rows and seats of the lecture room had been filled up completely with white coats. There was a projector showcasing a large photo of the young surgeon's face with her name, her titles, and her method on the screen. Anastasia blinked in surprise but shook her surroundings away from her mind, heading to a grinning Dr. Bailey.

"Dr. Steele!" The chief of surgery exclaimed, running over to shake her hands and give a welcoming hug. "You made it! How was your flight?"

"It is my presentation," Anastasia chuckled, hugging her boss back. "My flight was fine. I'm glad to be off it and back in my home."

Dr. Bailey smiled and nodded pridefully, flattered by the compliment "Good to hear! I was worried but you made it just in time! We only have a few minutes until we have to start. Are you ready?"

"D-Do I just walk on stage?" Gold eyes widened nervously, quickly scanning the room of more than a hundred doctors and surgeons.

"Yes, yes! We need to begin soon!" Her boss gestured to the steps of the stairs.

"Okay…right! Okay, I'm going!" The young surgeon shook her nerves and nodded her head, but before heading onto stage, she was stopped by a grabbing hand.

She turned and smiled, running into the open arms of a handsome, familiar face. "Jackson!" She whispered excitedly, the side of her face pressed onto his chest.

Dr. Avery squeezed her tightly, rubbing her arms. He murmured, "I'm glad you made it home. I wouldn't have missed this for the world." He released their hug and gestured his chin to the stage with a wide grin, "Go—we can catch up later. Break a leg up there." She nodded and smiled, not having time to say anything as her time was up.

Oh, god. Here we go.

Most of her presentation was standard and ordinary. The young surgeon introduced her case with the origin of her story, meeting her patient who believed he had suffered heartburn. Retelling the night of the surgery, she then went over what happened in the operating room after her patient coded. While thanking Dr. Webber and the head surgical nurse for their assistance, her patient luckily made it through the night. Anastasia then went into the details of her techniques and what she learned to help fix his heart with the help of a PFTE tube. Days later, with the approval of the hospital's board, the young surgeon 3-D, bio-printed a conduit using the patient's DNA to help save him from bleeding out. Within the next week or two, her patient was fine, leading up to the current day of doing regular checkups—the rest was medical history.

After she had finished, the crowd applauded and thus began the interview. Doctors and surgeons began picking at the young attending's brain with their questions, curious and marveling the procedure and her method.

A man in the front raised his hand, and she smiled immediately, recognizing his features. It was her star patient that made her win her Catherine Fox award and made the news—Jack Hyde. Beckoning his question, she nodded at him as he grinned, "I read that some patients had to go through certain procedures like bone marrow aspiration and graft implantation. Why wasn't I given those procedures?"

Trying to impress me, Mr. Hyde? What are you even doing here? You're supposed to be getting your heart scanned. She shook her head at the thought and smiled, "Once I came out with a closed-seeding system of your bio-printed conduit, it accelerated the time and the unnecessary need for those procedures. Your body was mending itself; I was just giving your body the time it needed, Mr. Hyde."

"Next?" The surgeon asked gently, already over the questions and hoping it would end. She hated being center of the stage—both literally and figuratively.

"Just one more!" Dr. Bailey bellowed loudly at the crowd.

Thanks, chief.

"I have a question," a man in a seat called from the shadows of the dark, dim lighting. His face couldn't be shown or seen.

Anastasia blinked, turning her head in the direction of the man's low voice and calling back loudly, "Uh…yes?"

"Between the patient's tissues and the bio-printed conduit of his aorta, would your procedure increase the risk of turbulent flow at the anastomosis?" The man asked.

Why does he sound a little so familiar?

Quickly shutting down her distractions, the young surgeon replied immediately, "No, my conduits exhibit laminar flow and testing revealed a tensile strength of 0.6 megapascals. The Steele Method is a method that can be used universally with the correct technology and efficient surgical techniques just as I presented earlier."

"But without long-term follow up," the man began countering, "how can you claim that your 3-D printed conduit supersedes the standard protocol for a regular fix? Or a regular prosthetic conduit? How about an aortic valve transplant?"

This guy knows his stuff for not wearing a white coat.

"An AV transplant is hard to come by. There aren't many donors out there to help save patients from the death of an aortic dissection. Time is of the essence in a surgical procedure like this one, which means that every second the heart beats, the aorta tears. The PFTE tube was a temporary end to stop the bleed, stall for time. The bio-printed valve was the solution, and I expect it to grow and remodel throughout the patient's lifetime—his own cells wouldn't injure or infect because they are of his own DNA."

The mysterious man stood up and commented, "Thus requiring the need for other surgeries."

"Yes, exactly." She swallowed and nodded her head, "It would be time-consuming for Jack Hyde up front, but worth it in the long run of his life."

"Don't you run the risk of your cells undergoing apoptosis when seated on the hydrogel?" he asked softly. When he approached the spotlight of the lights above the ceiling, Anastasia's entire body clenched and paralyzed to his intimidating presence. The familiar voice was finally recognizable in the lights of an unforgettable face—Christian Grey.

Her breathing hitched and the young surgeon gasped quietly on stage. A split second of silence filled the room as everyone turned to him and back at her. Not breaking eye-contact or batting an eye, she replied carefully, "That was a concern of mine at first, I'll admit. But I discovered ninety percent of the seeded cells remained viable after one week of replacing his PFTE tube."

"I..." The brunette paused again before adding, "I... was very surprised."

"Fascinating," Christian said with blazing intensity and brightness. He cocked his head to the side with his usual impassive gaze unreadable in her vision. "Thank you, Dr. Steele," he answered finally, letting everyone stand to their feet and clap.

Christian.

As the rest of the doctors shuffled and walked out of the auditorium carefully, the gray-eyed man flicked from her sight, getting lost in the crowd. She weaved her fingers through her locks to comb them as she squinted her eyes, scanning the crowd to find him—to make sure her eyes weren't deceiving her. But before she could take a correct observation, Dr. Bailey and Dr. Webber blocked her vision with their smiles.

Stunned, Anastasia stared at them with a surprised smile, blinking away her thoughts as they distracted her. Dr. Bailey waved her hand and beckoned the young surgeon to follow her, "Come on. There is a special announcement that I have to make and I need all the department heads to be there, as well as the nurses and the surgical staff."

"What announcement?" The brunette asked, a head still turned around to finding the dominant. She was distracted because she knew that she saw him.

"You'll see," Dr. Webber answered coyly, but she was too busy trying to search for Christian to notice.

"Whoa, Ana," Jackson exclaimed, grabbing a hold of her hands. "Watch your step," he smiled, escorting her down the steps.

She gasped in surprise, "Oh. Yeah, sorry…"I know I saw him.

"How was your flight?" The plastic surgeon asked as everyone headed to the surgical floor.

"It was…" Her voice drifted as she stared at an empty auditorium. Damn it. Where is he? Snapping back into her consciousness, she blurted out, "Fine. It was fine."

Dr. Avery made a confused face with furrowing brows of confusion before smiling, "That's good. You okay?"

"Yes, I think I'm tired. I feel like I'm seeing things," Anastasia shrugged, rapidly blinking her eyes and rubbing her eyes.

He rubbed her back comfortingly with concern and checked his watch, "Well, it would be 9 p.m. in Minnesota, currently. Jet lag?"

"Jet lag," she repeated, nodding in agreement, but she knew well that her flight wasn't the issue of her distress. Seeing Christian was like a bucket of cold water waking her from a deep sleep. He was more than a sight for sore eyes; he was all that she wanted to see. Even though it ended poorly between the two of them, it didn't prevent her from wanting him. How could anyone forget their first love? She didn't and she couldn't.

"Gather around, everyone! Hey!" Dr. Bailey yelled as she waved her hands toward her direction. She made it up the stairs of the surgical floor's foyer as her short body was seen from the towering bodies beside her. "I have an announcement to make! Is everybody here?" With a finger, the chief began counting quickly before nodding her head. "Okay, listen up everyone! I have some news!"

"I don't understand. What's going on? Aren't announcements done in the morning?" The young surgeon murmured quietly to Jackson.

"Yeah," the plastic surgeon replied, "but we were waiting for all the department heads to get here—the new, pretty, and award-winning ones, too." He winked at her.

Chewing on her lip, the hazel-eyed doctor flushed and rolled her eyes before nudging his shoulder, "Shut up." The youngest attending of the group stared up at her small chief-of-surgery as Jackson warmly placed an arm around her shoulder. "You never answered my question," she whispered looking up, "what's the news?"

Dr. Avery flexed his jaw in aggravation from the knowledge of his thoughts, "You're about to found out."

"As some of you may know," Dr. Bailey said, "there is a new change in leadership. It won't configure the dynamic of the hospital—well, actually, change that. It may, but for the better!"

The handsome surgeon rolled his eyes to himself and exhaled sharply, causing Anastasia to lift a brow. Is this person an asshole or something?

"This man is prominent for not only his strategically intelligent mindset in the business world, but he is well-known for his helping many people around the world with his advanced, green-energy technology," The chief explained. "Our line of work—whether you are a doctor, nurse, or a janitor of the hospital—is simply to help people; it doesn't matter how you do it at Grey-Sloan because when you work at a hospital like ours, we provide the best in patient care. It's one of the reasons why I was persuaded into letting him into our family due to the similar alignments of our work, but I will admit—when he came to me with his proposal, I was skeptical at first."

No. It… This isn't possible.

"However, he is a man of his word. He not only fulfilled his promise to upgrading our hospital with newer and better-functioning equipment, he also funded projects and initiatives to expand the horizon of saving lives, as well as our other programs to help our hospital continue its work while teaching others to do the same."

Bailey… Please… Don't say it.

"I can't even believe that he had the time to come today to our hospital, considering his busy schedule!" Dr. Bailey exclaimed with a disbelieved chuckle, "Everyone, please welcome Mr. Christian Grey as our newest owner and board member of Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital!" She immediately began clapping, orchestrating the applause out of the hospital's workers.

The brunette's subconscious began rubbing its temples in heated aggravation. No…no, no, no, NO.

The famous, gray-eyed billionaire approached the stairs, climbing up the steps to stand beside the chief-of-surgery with a polite smile, dressed in a suit without a tie. He wore a open-collared, white shirt, teasing his deliciously muscular chest while in a black jacket and matching, black dress pants. Anastasia's heart betrayed her angered emotions, conflicted by his beautiful presence and distressed by the decision of his new takeover. Was she angry or happy to see him? When gray eyes found the hazel-eyed surgeon, it gleamed with cold anger, glaring at the plastic surgeon's arm around his girl.

Jackson leaned in, murmuring closely into the Anastasia's ear, "Familiar face, Steele?" His arm slipped off her shoulders, stubbornly joining in the applause of the hospital with his own clapping hands.

"Quite," she responded lowly through her teeth.

With his alluring voice, Christian said, "I'm profoundly grateful and touched by the compliment accorded to me by your chief-of-surgery. Her introduction offers me a rare opportunity to speak highly and commend the impressive work here at Grey-Sloan—I'm lucky to be sharing a similar surname with the famous surgeons of this hospital. GEH's partnership with your hospital is more than a financial boost to your resources and the daily lives of patients and workers. I plan on…"

You plan on what? YOU? No. NO.

Anastasia couldn't handle listening to him anymore. Christian Grey was her boss now, and she had to answer to him. I have to answer to… I think the fuck not. She needed to leave immediately before her mind impulsively blurted the words she wanted to come out. "I have a patient waiting for me," the young surgeon muttered to Dr. Avery, whipping her face away from the dominant. She was already making a quiet, escaping exit before Jackson could ask why.

Christian owns the hospital now—he is part of the board, and now he is a part of my life. My work life. He promised me he wouldn't interfere with my career. So, what the fuck is this? A sick attempt to get me back in his control? Breathing heavily and quickly from her upsetting thoughts, the cardiothoracic attending inhaled a deep breath, closing her eyes to calm herself and her breathing before resuming her way to see Jack Hyde.

"Frankie," the surgeon called to the head nurse, "can you show me where Mr. Hyde is?"

She grinned with her biased correction, "Your hottie star patient? Room 3."

With a shaking head, the brunette smiled softly, "Thank you." If you're busy and working, you'll be fine.

Entering the waiting room, the patient's voiced called out, "There she is! My favorite doctor."

"Yes, hello to you too, Mr. Hyde," Anastasia responded dryly with a smile. "I'm assuming you finally got yourself scanned and checked out?" The surgeon picked up the scans by the side of the patient's bed, examining the scans once she pulled them out.

"After going to your little presentation," Jack grinned and added with a wink.

She lifted a brow and chuckled, "How did you even manage to get in?"

"What are you talking about?" The dirty-blonde patient asked with hurt in eyes before smiling again. "I'm the star of the show, and you're the director!" He placed his hands behind his back with a proud grin.

"I guess that's why we make a good team and why we won an Oscar—well, an Oscar of our own anyway." The brunette shook her head with a grin before placing the scans to the table near the bed, "Your scans are looking great, Mr. Hyde, and there aren't any changes besides your improving heart and health. How's everything been holding up with you though? Have you been suffering from any symptoms—anything different happen to you as we approach our second month?"

"Nope, none, doc." Mr. Hyde said simply.

"Great. Then, I will see you again next month?"

He agreed with thumbs up, getting off the bed and walking out with the doctor. Jack hurried to the doorway and held the exit open for the surgeon, murmuring, "After you."

She nodded appreciatively and flushed, "Thank you."

"Speaking of good teams," he added, following behind her, "what are you doing tonight, Dr. Steele? I was thinking of us grabbing dinner together."

Anastasia looked up at him and blinked, "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Yes," Jack grinned with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

Her eyes fluttered and she nervously turned away from his gaze, answering back, "It isn't right for me to date my patients—I'm your doctor, Jack."

"Then, drinks! To… celebrate my livelihood," The patient insisted, grabbing a hold of her arm.

The brunette jumped from his touch, turning back to him. She sighed and combed her hair with her fingers, shaking her head, "I'm sorry, Jack. It's just not ethical."

He smirked with amusement, caressing and stroking her arm, "You're quite the good girl, aren't you?"

"I endeavor to be," the surgeon replied, smiling shyly.

"Maybe another time then," Jack answered, squeezing her hand before letting go.

She shrugged, "Maybe, Jack. We'll see."

Anastasia watched him walk away and she smiled to herself. It still hadn't hit her that she saved him, and she was in disbelief that he was living and walking proof of her success. Mr. Hyde turned around and grinned at her, waving good bye while she waved back. Turning the opposite direction, the young attending gasped and flinched back by the close proximity of a body near her.

Golden eyes met with the unforgettable, burning-gray eyes. "Who's that?" Christian snapped immediately.

Stunned, she opened her mouth and then closed it. "A patient," she answered lifting her brow.

"When's the last time you had a proper meal?" The dominant asked acidly.

You have the audacity to interrogate me after the little stunt you pulled? Heat and anger fueled the bravery within her voice and she replied back coldly, "What I eat is really none of your concern." She handed Mr. Hyde's files to Frankie and turned away from his gaze, muttering afterwards, "And, it was nice seeing you, too, Mr. Grey."

"I don't want your smart mouth. Everything you do concerns me—now answer me," his eyes blazed with his order.

"Everything?" Anastasia whipped her head around and glared, "As in everything I do in my life concerning you so much that you have to control it, including my career and future?" She tried her best reigning in the increasing volume and temper in her voice.

"That's not the reason why I bought this hospital," Christian narrowed his eyes and growled lowly. "I've been wanting to get into the world of medicine for a while and took an interest on assisting the hospital's administrative affairs, to not only get into the process of helping others but also building revenue for its workers so they could continue working here."

Unbelievable. "Whatever you say," the brunette sighed with exasperation and frustration. She turned away from him taking off her white coat; it was getting too hot for her to wear her outerwear.

His nostrils flared to her dismissively stubborn reluctance, "Anastasia, listen, we need to—"

"No, Christian. You listen," the young attending interjected, golden eyes blazing with her unrelenting fury. "You can come in here, waltz back into my life, and try to buy your control all you want—that's fine. Buy whatever your heart desires; it's your money and I couldn't care less what you did with it."

His eyes glared even more, speaking quietly through his teeth so no one would eavesdrop their conversation, "Miss Steele, I told you—"

"It's Dr. Steele to you in these walls, Mr. Grey," she snapped, "and I'm not finished. It's one thing to buy your shares of the hospital but when it comes to my work—my department, my operating room, my surgeries, and most of all my patients—you better stay the hell out of my way." The young doctor turned her heel to him and began walking away with her coat huddled into her arm, leaving a wide-eyed, stunned dominant behind her. She felt better letting go of the heavy weights of her emotions.

Heading to the open elevator, Anastasia entered the platform as Christian followed unexpectedly behind. She avoided his angry glare, turning her face away from his beautiful face as she stared straight ahead at the double doors. Her insides were shrinking and clenching, but the upright posture of her body created the façade of an unbothered, poised woman. The heat from his body and his intoxicating scent fragrantly filling the space between them evoked repressed memories of their time together.

As they both watched the floors of the elevator decrease in number by one, Christian spoke lowly yet softly, "I meant what I said when I told you I wouldn't dream of interfering with you what you wanted. But, why are you so angry with me, Anastasia?"

"Because… Because it's easier being furious at you than being sad," Anastasia breathed honestly in a quiet shudder, blinking back involuntary tears.

The warmth of his body pressed in closer as he turned to her side. His hand reached down and grasped it gently into his, and she felt a sting in her heart. The coldness of her numbed body was breaking out of its hypothermic and hibernating crystal, thawing from his touch as it ignited a flickering flame within her. With his lips barely touching and speaking against her head, he murmured quietly, "I miss you, Ana…"

The brunette shook her head, bending her head down to let her hair cascade over her face to hide her saddened expression. Muffled words came out of her choked voice, "Christian… I can't—"

"Please, Ana. We need to talk," he pleaded, bringing her hands to his lips, pressing his lips against each knuckle with a gentle kiss.

As her cold, empty heart melted from the sweetness of his compassion, the surgeon shook her head agaom, speaking with a trembling voice "Christian… Please, stop… I don't want to cry anymore, not at work." She took a deep breath, blinking rapidly as she cleared her thoughts and suppressed her emotions.

"Oh, baby, no…" Christian murmured quickly, pulling her by the arm and bring her small body into his warm-bodied embrace. He wrapped an arm around her tightly while his other hand cradled her head, inhaling her scent. He breathed against her head, "I've missed you so much, Anastasia."

Her body burned to his embrace, and she wanted to struggle out of his hold on her, but her body stayed and remained. He latched himself onto her, and the dominant found his way back under her skin and desire. Stunned his swift actions, she froze before succumbing to him, letting her arms wrap around him as she inhaled his scent and embraced his warmth.

"It's been a month, Ana. Have dinner with me. I want you back, and I want you healthy," he whispered with a depressed tone, pulling his head away but remaining locked around her in his eyes and arms. "Your beautiful eyes look are too large for your face. Please." He rubbed her cheek gently with his thumb.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Anastasia objected quietly.

As he was unable to insist quickly enough, the double doors of the elevator opened and her hold on him was released as she left the platform with an opened, unanswered request. Jackson spotted the young attending and called out her name as he walked over to her, glimpsing a briskly following CEO behind her.

"There you are," the plastic surgeon warmly smiled. "I was just about to go looking for you, Ana. Do you want to grab some dinner with me? We could catch up, and you can tell me all about Minnesota."

Everyone is so eager for a meal… The young doctor opened her mouth and then closed it, "I…" Christian was suddenly in her peripheral vision beside her, eyes expectant and waiting while Dr. Avery took quick, brow-lifting glimpses from the dominant to her. She didn't know what to say but leave the hospital; it had been an aching long day.

Jackson analyzed the conflicted gaze in her expression and her wordless answer, a happy grin turning into an understandingly weak smile. "You must be tired from everything, huh?" He reached in and caressed her face before leaning in to kiss her cheek, "Get some rest and take care of yourself, Steele. We need you alive and well, here."

Blushing from his heart-warming gesture, she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, resulting in him doing the same around her waist. I'm sorry, Jackson. "Soon?" She offered as she slipped from his arms, "Once I get settled at my new place I'll be free, and we can catch up all you want."

His pearly, white teeth glistened against his pink lips from his smile, "Sounds good, Ana." After saying good night to the young attending, he nodded his head at the boiling and quietly brewing dominant beside her, "Mr. Grey."

"Avery," he replied mutely through clenched teeth as the plastic surgeon walked away. He didn't want anyone touching her besides him. Once the handsome doctor was out of sight, the gray-eyed man pulled at the young attending's arm and stated, "Come, we need to talk, and you need to eat."

Pulling her arm out of his grasp, she answered, "I didn't agree to going out and eating with you, Christian."

He glared at her, "You looked like you've lost ten pounds the last time I saw you. You're fading away in front of me as we speak. Let's go."

What the hell is this? "No," Anastasia crossed her arms and made a face of disbelief as she furrowed her brows. "I don't have to do anything or listen to you. You don't own me; you never have."

Christian closed his eyes briefly, taking a moment reel in his increasing frustration. Gray eyes were filled with pain and sadness as soon as he opened them, responding lowly, "One dinner, one discussion…" He paused before continuing, "It's the least you can do after leaving me in New York."

"That's not fair." Anastasia's nostrils flared as she explained, "I told you I had a patient that needed my help. It was a trauma that I couldn't just leave unattended just to accept a simple award or talk to you. I took an oath, and I don't plan on breaking my promise any time at all in the future. If you're so upset about it, let me pay you back your ticket like I've suggested before."

"You think those are the things I am upset about—doing your job and repaying me my fucking money? I'm mad that you're avoiding me and not talking to me—it's a familiar crossroad I've been on, if you've forgotten!" The dominant yelled with blazing eyes.

His words triggered her dinner with Dr. Avery on their celebration of her nomination; she did break contact with him and ignored him that entire day. It was a habit that struck her realization and she broke the gaze between them in embarrassment.

He muttered dryly, "Even if I did make you pay me back, which I would never let you, you couldn't."

"Excuse me?" Gold eyes challenged back at him with a lifting brow.

"It's not a ticket that you're paying for," Christian explained with a glaring eye. "You're paying for my trip on my jet, which means you would be paying five-thousand dollars for every hour I'm on my plane from Seattle to New York."

$25,000? Anastasia was lucky that winning the Catherine Fox Award also meant receiving $500,000, which she did not expect at all. Regardless of her monetary benefits of winning, she only used the money for travel affairs and housing. She blinked at the math in her head before staring at him.

"One dinner, one discussion," he pleaded and repeated. "Please, let me feed you, Ana—for me."

The brunette chewed on her bottom lip, taking his offer into consideration, and the dominant resisted the temptation of pulling her lip away and taking it in his mouth. It's the least I could do for wasting his time. I'm still mad at you for buying the hospital but I guess maybe that's for a later discussion; it's like you're punishing me for making you buy an expensive flight to New York. Unless he wanted me to fly back with him?... She smiled to herself at her thought, which softened the gray, intense gaze in his eyes. "Okay, Christian. Let's have dinner."

He led Anastasia into a small, intimate restaurant. She couldn't find the name of the restaurant after walking to their destined location. The place they were both eating at was filled with wooden chairs and walls the same color as the dominant's playroom with small, gilt mirrors randomly placed. Linen tablecloths, white candles, and small vases were on placed on top of every table. Throughout the restaurant, Ella Fitzgerald could be heard crooning and serenading customers with her romantic melody. The mood and setting of the place really set the tone for the evening, helping ease the brunette into conversation.

The waiter led the both of them to a small, alcove booth. Before the waiter could leave, the dominant ordered immediately, "We'll each have sirloin steak cooked medium, béarnaise sauce if you have it, fries, and green vegetables—whatever the chef has. And bring me a wine list."

"Certainly, sir," the waiter exclaimed, taken aback by his calm and cool efficiency before running off with their order to the chef.

Commenting dryly, the doctor asked, "Did you forget that I can order my own food, Mr. Grey?"

"I'm not sure I appreciate your tone, Miss Steele?" He smirked.

She scoffed, "Then don't."

The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile, and Christian breathed quietly, "Oh, I have missed your smart mouth." The waiter comes back with the wine list in his hand, handing it to Christian who never broke an intense gaze with his girl. Without batting an amused eye, he asked, "Would you like to choose the wine?" His eyebrows rose expectantly with personifying arrogance.

The young attending pushed and pressed her tongue against the corner of her mouth as she crossed her arms. "I'll let you decide," she answered sullenly.

"Two glasses of the Barossa Valley Shiraz, please," he instructed.

"Er…we only sell that wine by the bottle, sir."

"Then, bring a bottle," he snapped.

"S-Sir," the waiter nodded, but before he could retreat back to fetch their drinks she stopped their server.

"And an iced water," she added, turning to the waiter with a gentle smile, patting his hand gently with reassurance. Don't mind him. He's always like this. I'm sorry. The kind expression in her eyes consoled him, and he nodded politely, turning away. The brunette exhaled deeply, turning back to the dominant, "Someone is grumpy this evening."

"I wonder why that is?" Christian asked with an impassive expression.

Anastasia shrugged, "It definitely sets the right tone for an intimately honest discussion, don't you think?" She smiled teasingly, amused by his trademark controlling attitude.

His mouth pressed into a hard line, but soon after and almost reluctantly, his lips lifted slightly, stifling a smile from reaching his beautiful lips. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm used to it at this point, so it doesn't faze me," the brunette replied with her fingers combing through her dark locks.

Gray eyes softened with humor from the lightness of their conversation. Cutting to the chase, his eyes then clouded with anxiety and concern, and he ran hand through his tousled hair. "Ana, the last time we spoke, you left me. You left me without so much as a good bye," he began as the seriousness in his presence and expression filled him, "I'm a little nervous. I've told you that I want you back, and you've said…nothing."

Here goes.

"I've missed you…more than you know, Christian. This past month has been…" Anastasia swallowed, and the memories of her final good bye to him reemerged from the depths of her repressed memories. The feelings of cold loneliness and pained anguish filled her senses, and she felt her emotions pull her back into the darkness she discovered the Saturday morning of their inevitable end. This month was dark and cold. She shook her head, "It doesn't matter. Nothing has changed. I can't be what you want me to be."

"You are what I want you to be," Christian stated with a soft, emphatic voice. Disagreeing to his comment with a shaking head, he continued right after her reaction, "You're just upset because of what happened last time. I behaved stupidly, and you… So did you. Why didn't you safe word, Anastasia?" The dominant's tone became accusatory and defensive while a glimmering eye of curiousness and furrowing brows of irritation was expressed on the his face.

She blinked once, staring at him.

"Answer me."

Give a girl a second to think. "I was overwhelmed and got caught in the moment of all the pain. All I can remember was the pain and what it triggered," the brunette responded. "I must've forgotten…"

"You… forgot?!" He gasped with horror, grabbing the sides of the table and glaring at her, which made her shrink from his gaze. With a low voice, he went on, "How can I trust you? Ever?"

"You can't blame me completely for letting it slip my mind, Christian!" The young doctor tried explaining. "I thought I could handle it, and you thought I could, too." She sighed, "Although that situation was very upsetting—my issue of a beating from you is not the only problem for me. It's being a submissive, too, and in the end, I couldn't be that for you. Even trying—I really, really tried, but I always knew deep down that I couldn't be that for you."

She paused and frowned, "So, maybe you're right. It was completely my fault, but I wanted you…just as much as you wanted me, and I was willing to put aside some of my needs to be something…"

Her words drifted as the waiter came into her sights, approaching the two with their wine as the dominant and the surgeon sat staring at each other from gold to gray. The both of them were filled with unspoken blame casting to and from each other's' silent gazes while the waiter removed the cork with an unnecessary flourish and poured a little wine into Christian's glass.

Automatically the dominant reached for his glass and took a sip. "That's fine," he answered with a clipped voice.

Gingerly, the waiter filled their glasses, placing the bottle on the table before briskly retreating from Christian's impolitely intimidating presence and attitude. Throughout the process, the young surgeon looked away, swimming around her pondering thoughts. She reached for her glass and took a sip but was unable to taste anything.

"You…You took something from me," her voice trembled with her lips as she spoke.

Anger vanished within thin air as his face was etched with immense concern, wanting to rid the pain off her face. He reached for her hand, "Ana, what do you mean? I didn't take anything from you."

Anastasia pulled her hand back from him and folded them in her lap. Blinking rapidly and staring at her hands, she explained in a quietly croaked voice, "You took pieces of me, little pieces over time—and it was so small that I didn't even notice, you know? You wanted me to be something I…I wasn't, and I made myself into what you wanted." Trying to make her gaze meet back up to his gray eyes, she continued staring at his hand, "One day I was Anastasia Steele—Ph.D. and M.D—and then suddenly, I was lying to myself…and jeopardizing my career as I distracted myself with these new feelings…and agreeing to being a submissive and in your control."

Gold eyes finally and bravely met with his, and the familiar, wary look on his face was shown. She was glad he was listening, encouraging her to go on, "This lasted until I was standing and looking at myself in your mirror with a broken and beaten emptiness in my eyes, staring into my reflection and realizing that… I wasn't the same Anastasia Steele anymore." She smiled weakly as her eyes shined from her welling tears under the dim lighting, speaking honestly into his intense gaze, "And in spite of every single little thing that happened to me that led up to that Saturday morning, in that moment, I still…loved you. I truly did."

"I ran because I was lost," she choked in her confession, pausing between emotional surges of wanting to erupt into tears. "And it took a very long time for me to find myself—a very long forty-two days of brutal coldness and being numb… But now…now that I am finally me again…" She shook her head at the thought of the punishments and whispered, "I can't…"

Taking a deep and sniffing through her nose, she breathed through her final statements, trying to push through the pain of her truth, "I loved you. I loved you more than I have ever loved anyone, including myself. And…that scares the crap out of me because when you persuaded me to fall into your lifestyle—when you made me…fall in love with you…" She paused, taking one final, deep breath, "You took…a piece of me." She closed her eyes shut, letting a tear run down her cheek and escape from her eyes while the emotional agony cut deep in her, "…And I let you."

Smiling through the pain, she covered her mouth, trying to shake off her emotional nerves, "I… I can't let you do that to me again."

Relief filled her body, and Anastasia felt free again as the release of the tension between them lifted off her. She knew that he couldn't love her, but the conversation she had gave her closure. It took a while for her to fully commit to how she thought and felt, but eventually, she found the right words—in spite of it taking a month to find the confidence and strength to do so.

The waiter came back to their table, briskly placing their meals in front of them and scuttling out of sight. Christian hadn't said anything, silently taking in what she said as he stared at her. Uncomfortable with his gawking, the brunette answered her stomach's desperate call to her and began to eat her meal, quietly avoiding eye contact. Her stomach was knotted from his reactions, but feeding it helped her nerves.

When she found the courage to look at him again, gray eyes softened as he had watched her eat. She cleared her throat, blinking at his plate and then back at him, expecting him to eat. At least eat your meal if you're going to keep staring.

Giving in to the doctor's unspoken thoughts, Christian picked up his utensils made a cut into his steak, slicing a small piece. He stopped midway and stared back up at her. "You said loved," he whispered. "So is that how you feel? Is that now in the past tense?"

Anastasia eyes locked onto his, swallowing her food slowly and carefully. Twisting her fork in her finger, she murmured with a little smile of pity at herself, "No, Christian, it's not." She breathed gently, looking back up at his wary gaze, "As twisted as it is—it's the one thing I can't seem to let go, what I still feel for you. I won't apologize for that."

Vulnerability filled his presence, and Christian exhaled softly, "Good… I don't want you to."

The brunette opened her mouth to the dominant's shocking admission. You aren't repulsed by it now? She couldn't believe his reaction and his change of heart. She remembered the horror on his face when she confessed her love. Picking at his food, he ordered, "Eat."

For the first time, it was an order she didn't mind from him, obliging to his instructions and continuing to eat. They ate in silence, and when she finished her meal, she whispered quietly as she watched him drink his wine, "I'm sorry."

Gray eyes filled with alarm and panic, he asked, "Sorry for what?"

"For not using the safe word," she answered, knitting her brows in confusion as she blinked.

The dominant closed his eyes as if relieved by her explanation. "We might have avoided all this suffering," he muttered. "And maybe it wouldn't have been so long for us to see each other."

Objecting to his comment, the doctor mused, "You look like you're doing well."

"You know of all people how appearances can be deceptive, Miss Steele," he said quietly. "I'm anything but fine. I feel like the sun has not risen in the six weeks we haven't seen each other, Ana. I've been in perpetual night ever since you left me."

Her heart constricted to the memory of his broken expression on the day of their separation, as the double doors of his elevator closed. He added, "You said you'd never leave, and although I am happy that you're okay and you're you again, you always leave when things get tough for us." He was hurt, and the pain and sadness in his face showed.

"I'm sorry, Christian," the brunette whispered, reaching for his warm hand and taking it into her cold fingers. Christian squeezed her hand immediately from her consoling touch, latching on and never letting go. She paused for a couple seconds furrowed her brows as she questioned him, "When did I say that I'd never leave?"

"In your sleep," he stated as a matter-of-fact. "It was the most comforting thing I'd heard in so long, Anastasia. It made me relax."

Bemused by his words, she chuckled, "Of course, silly me for forgetting."

Christian cocked his head to the side and blinked at her, the apprehension of the situation not being realized. Anastasia continued smiling, letting his eyes soften with curiosity and humor from her happy demeanor.

"I'm not the best at communication," the surgeon began, stifling a giggle, "but from what I learned—and correct me if I'm wrong—generally, a key part in good communication is that both parties be conscious of what they say."

He nodded to the teasing and smiled, squeezing her hand, "Fair point well made, Miss Steele."

"I learned that from you," she shrugged.

Christian summoned the waiter with his raised hand and asked for the check before picking up his phone and making a call to his bodyguard, "We're at Le Picotin, South West Third Avenue."

Is that what this place is called?

"You're very brusque with Taylor," Anastasia commented, "in fact, with most people."

"I just get to the point quickly, Anastasia," he stated simply.

"What was the point of this evening, Christian? An explanation for closure?" She was confused, but happy that she got to spend her dinner with him. It was full circle—every time she flew back or flew to Seattle, the dominant was there the first day of her arrival.

"I have a proposition for you."

The brunette sighed, "Christian, I told you I can't—"

"A different proposition," he clarified from his interjection. The waiter returned with the bill and Christian handed his credit card over without checking the price. He gazed speculatively at her while the waiter swiped his card before handing it back to the dominant.

After Christian finished paying for their meal, they both stood as he took her hand and grasped it warmly into his. "I don't want to lose you, Anastasia," he murmured, kissing her knuckles tenderly. The warm touch of his sculptured lips sent shivers down her body.

"Come. Taylor's outside," he said, pulling her out the door.

"You and Taylor don't have to. My place is…" Her voice drifted as the dominant narrowed his eyes. He already knew what was going to come out of her mouth. "All right, then…"

The Audi was outside on standby and waiting for them. Christian opened his door and asked for her address which she gave within seconds, recalling from her eidetic memory. Climbing into the luxurious car, her body sank into the plush leather. He heads to the driver's side and knocked on the driver's side, making Taylor step out of his car. They spoke briefly causing the brunette to cock her head with curiosity. She watched Taylor pull out headphones from the side pocket of his coat and put them in his ears before entering the car.

Christian then climbed into his car and stared ahead with an unreadable gaze. The young attending stared at his features—admiring his straight nose, sculptured full lips, and tousled hair in its delicious way. Soft music began playing in the rear of the car, as Taylor began driving into light traffic.

The dominant beside her shifted in his seat to face the brunette. "As I was saying, Anastasia, I have a proposition." He looked determined and businesslike, adamant to get what he wanted.

I guess that's why Taylor is wearing earphones. Weaving her fingers through her hair, she nodded and listened attentively, "Okay, your proposition. What is it?"

"Let me ask you something first. Do you want a regular, vanilla relationship with no kinky fuckery at all?"

"Uh," she opened her mouth, shocked by the verbal, unexpected projection of his words.

"Answer me," Christian said calmly.

"I like the…kinky fuckery," the brunette whispered quietly, taking a quick glance at the driver in the rear view mirror. Taylor didn't notice her, which relaxed her a bit.

"That's what I thought," he said, "So what don't you like?"

Inhaling a deep breath, the doctor breathed, "Okay, well for one, I don't think any relationship should be defined by a set of rules. I don't want them."

"None at all?"

"No—no rules. From the beginning, you asked me to trust you, and I'd like the same curtesy in any relationship I pursue in the future," she stated. Taking her true considerations into mind, she went on, "Punishments for that matter—the canes, whips, and other devices of pain—they make me uncomfortable and frighten me. I don't want them being used on me."

"Okay, so no whips or canes—or belts, for that matter," he said sardonically. "But you don't mind if I spank you?"

Jesus, this conversation… "Spank me with what exactly?" She flushed from the question.

He raised his hand, "This."

Staring at his palm, the brunette squirmed uncomfortably at the sight.

"Please don't bite your lip, Anastasia," he whispered.

The brunette stared into his intensely dark, gray eyes, letting go of her bottom lip, blurting out, "No, I don't mind. Especially with the…" She cleared her throat, hiding her face in the dark, "…silver balls."

"Yes, that was fun," Christian smirked. "So, you can deal with some pain, then?"

She shrugged, "I suppose I can." Her answer made him stroke his chin in deep thought, but she disrupted his thinking trance immediately, "I just don't see how what we talk about could happen and work for both of us at the same time," She prevented her hopes from rejoicing with optimism as she pointed out the reality of their situation. She made her expectations heel to her command, letting the logic and knowledge of her experiences dictate her thinking. Anastasia continued, "The things you want—you said that's the way you are, being a dominant."

He shook his head, "But what happened last time, that will never happen again."

"I know that I am the one that consented to your…pleasure," she swallowed, "I take accountability for that and everything I felt, but it doesn't change the fact that you were getting off on the pain you inflicted. That doesn't change, and neither does your feelings."

"I'm working on it," he sighed, saddened by his own pondering thoughts.

His reaction chastened her harsh honesty, reeling back in her straightforward bluntness and taking his feelings into consideration. "So you're open to newer terms," Anastasia responded, getting back on track with his initiated discussion.

"I want to try this again with you, Ana." Christian nodded his head, solidifying his choices and answers. "No rules and no punishments."

She blinked at him, opening her mouth and taken aback, "You want a vanilla relationship." She phased her question as a disbelieved statement. When did he want this? Where did this come from?

"We'll only do what you're comfortable with," the dominant explained. "And then maybe, once you trust me more and I trust you to be honest and to communicate with me, we could move on and do some of the things."

Impossible. The surgeon replied with objection, "But you need all of those things. You need your control and…" Her voice drifted, hoping he would fill in his own blanks.

"I need you more, Anastasia," Christian cried, pleading for her attention and affection. He took her hand and placed it against his face, reveling in her touch, "This past month has been purgatory, but not like the hell I've been through the first few days without you. All my instincts told me to let you go and that I don't deserve you."

"When I met you—you were utterly…" He was speechless, trying to let the words from his lips catch up to his thinking. "You were so strong and beautiful when you found me—unlike any woman I've been with. When you helped me out of my accident, you looked so untroubled and beautiful, not that you're not beautiful now, but as I watch you sitting here now, I see your pain. It's hard knowing that I'm the one who made you feel this way, knowing that you felt as though I… I took something from you and held you back."

"But I'm a selfish man," the dominant said lowly. "I've wanted you the second I laid my eyes into yours when opening my car door. You are exquisite and honest, so warm and so strong, as well as witty, beguiling innocent, and talented in many forms—the list is endless." He stared deeply into her eyes, "I am in complete awe of you, and I want you. The thought of anyone else having you, a simple cheek kiss from that Avery, is like a knife twisting in my dark soul."

Christian's admissions and confessions paralyzed Anastasia. She was being offered a second chance with him, but in the way she originally wanted—the right way and the way she initially desired from the beginning. It felt surreal, putting her in a state of shock. His words felt like a declaration a reciprocating affection she had for him, and it wasn't something she expected.

"Please, Ana," he begged again. "I promise…no more rules and no more punishments."

She murmured gently, adjusting his offer, "No more rules, no more punishments, and no more secrets."

"I can do that," the dominant instantly agreed, eyes widened and bright.

The young attending sat in silence for a minute, thinking about her self-esteem and her issues. "Leaving you was a shock to my system. It was a wake-up call for me, not to run away but to show me that I couldn't be the person you wanted me to be, in spite of the training and you being easy on me. It wasn't until later that I realized the physical pains you inflicted on me was nowhere near as brutal as actually losing you." She frowned, "What you're offering—you do understand that you're going to be entering a relationship where I can't please you the way you want me to."

"You please me all the time," Christian whispered, "How often do I have to tell you that?"

"I'm trying to love you, but you won't let me," Anastasia answered broken-heartedly, eyes glistening with pain. She wanted desperately to show that she could, but it was a strong wall that couldn't be broken, a barrier she couldn't push past. "I try my best to show you that I do, and you won't let me touch you."

"Touching is a hard limit for me, Anastasia," he whispered with fear.

"I know," she let out a quiet, frowning sigh. "I wish I knew why."

He brought her hand back onto his lips, kissing each knuckle again repeatedly. With a deep inhale, he professed in a soft voice, "I had a horrific childhood; you're aware of that. One of the crack whore's pimps…" His voice trailed off and his body tensed, recalling the unimaginable horror of his memories. "I can remember that," he whispered in a shudder.

Tears welled into her eyes, and it took everything in her not to let out a sob or a sound of compassion. You're don't like being touched because of the abuse… She squeezed her hand tightly around his fingers, rubbing his lip and cheek with her thumb, "Was she abusive? Your mother?" Her voice was low, trying to void it of saddening brokenness.

"Not that I remember. She was neglectful, and she didn't protect me from her pimp." He snorted at the irony, "I think it was me who looked after her. When she finally killed herself, it took four days for someone to raise the alarm and find us… I remember that."

The brunette blew through her lips, a reaction to release the need to cry. She whispered, "That's really messed up…"

Pecking the back of her hand with his warm lips, he murmured, "Fifty shades."

The constant repetition of his kind actions warmed the surgeon's heart, starting an eye-opening revelation she need to voice out. "You think you have a dark soul, but I can't understand why you do, Christian," she said in a reassuring voice. "I can't say that about you and I would never. The events that led up to your life and state of being is sad, but you are a good man." He looked like he didn't want to hear her words, but it didn't stop her from going on, "You're a good man. I can see that. You're generous, kind, and have always been open with me."

She sighed, "It's hard trying to understand you because I never know what you're thinking. You're so closed off and that can be intimidating to me sometimes. I never know how you're feeling either because your mood swings will take a turn within a nanosecond."

Christian blinked warily at her in the dark space between them. Unable to resist herself any longer, she carefully unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled onto his lap, taking him by surprise. She consoled his worries and fears as she held his face with a warming smile, rubbing his face gently with her small fingers. His gray eyes dilated in response to her affection, softening and heating by the second.

Breathing gently on his lips, Anastasia said without a shred of doubt, "I love you, Christian." His eyes widened fractionally by the utterance of her confession, letting it sink in; he analyzed her warming expression, marveling the purity of her face and gaze. "The roles are reversed and the tables have turned. You are prepared to try doing all of this for me, even I can't fathom so much as to why, but I can't help but see myself in your eyes when you offer this. You've done all you could to compromise with me, and now you're giving me what I want after saying you couldn't."

Marveling into her his eyes, she added, "And now…you're trying…"

Do you love me? Her thoughts pondered the idea in wonder.

Smiling softly to the idea, the surgeon leaned down and kissed him gently, letting her lips remember, connect, and feel for his perfectly sculptured mouth. His hands immediately reach for her face and cup her cheeks. He kissed her deeply and violently and she reciprocated the feeling as they held each other. Their teeth clashed, and soon after, his tongue was in her mouth. Desire fumed in their bodies as matching acts of fervor and passion relinquished from their caged emotions. It was as if the anticipation of their meet led up to that moment.

He groaned, letting out a low, sexy sound in the back of his throat to encourage her body and lips to keep going. She was pouring all her angst and heartbreak into the kiss, setting those emotions free and replacing her them with a newer feelings from a thawed, warming heart—no longer frozen and grieving in despair. Their kiss was binding, connecting and locking onto each other in the moment of their blinding passion.

Christian broke off the kiss, panting against her lips. The illusion of their bubble popped and Anastasia shamefully and embarrassingly realized that she was still in the car with Taylor. She stared into his luminous gray eyes of desire, fiery with the heated blood from their bodies.

"Yes, I'm yours." Anastasia whispered in agreement, breathing heavily and quickly on his lips after sealing their deal with an intensely passionate kiss.

Christian snaked his arms around her and crushed her body as closely as he could to his, burying his nose into her hair as he breathed on her head, "Oh, Ana…"

After a few long moments, he was holding her closely in his arms as her hands were wrapped around him. Her face turned into his neck, pressing her lips into his nape as she comforted him. She quietly breathed in his scent, refreshing her memory of his heavenly scent. He tightened his arms around her, kissing her hair repeatedly.

Wrapped in his embrace as Taylor slowly took the streets to her condo, Anastasia smiled against his skin and asked, "So… Do I have to sign or something?"

"No. No signing and no contracts," Christian replied, feeling his grin press into her head while shaking with a quiet chuckle. "Only you and me."

Always. And nothing else.


Hope you all had a great weekend, as usual! I want to thank everyone that kindly let me know their thoughts on my previous works and chapters! I've never had so many people tell me their encouraging thoughts before! Please, continue letting me know what you think, I love reading and listening to what you all have to say! I hope you all enjoyed my chapter. Thank you again and much, much love.~