So here is another Update my lovely's. Enjoy and don't forget to leave a review so I know what you think.
Chapter Four:
Christian had out on Mozart by the time Ana walked back into the living room. Taking his time, he looked her up and down. Noticing instantly that her fingernails were digging into her palms and her jaw was tight. Her dress was a plain black sheath, teamed with sheer black hose and stiletto heels. She'd swept her tangle of hair into a knot high on her head. Clustered black beads dangled from her ears. Her mouth.. his own went dry was a luscious raspberry red.
"Beautiful is such a overused word you take my breath away." He said.
Her heart lurched in her breast.
"I made my dress from a remnant that was on sale. The shoes come from Second Time Around I only hope the original owner won't be eating dinner at the hotel." she said cooly.
"I bet she never looked that good in them."
"You're too kind."
Part of her liked this verbal banter. Ana thought uneasily culling a stab of fear, she took a white mohair sweater from the cupboard and flung it around her shoulders and she stalked out the door.
Christians car smelled of leather, he drove with smooth confidence making small talk about the surroundings later they were seated in the hotel dining room by a window overlooking the ocean, the apple-wood in the fireplace crackled cheerfully. Trying not to panic at the alarming array of silverware, Ana took a deep breath and went on the offensive.
"your company Grey Inc. owns this hotel. And many others worldwide, all part of the Grey chain of fine hotels."
"yes he has a rather large ego but so do I, You clearly checked him out."
"Him and his adoptive son. I'd be a fool not to meet him wouldn't I? A rich old man, every women's dream."
"No more shoes from Second Time Around." Christian said.
"no more hose from the dollar store."
The waiter put a menu in front of her. a thick leather binder embossed with gold. She wasn't going to be intimidated by a menu. Ana thought resolutely and opened it to the first page.
"Once I've hooked up with Carrick I could buy the dollar store, a whole string of them."
"You could, do you like martinis?" Christian said.
She'd never had one.
"Of course."
"straight up or on the rocks?"
"On the rocks. I could buy a car like yours."
"several I should think."
Her eyes narrowed. She was doing her best to act like the crassest of fortune hunters and Christian wasn't even reacting. If anything he was laughing at her. Chewing on her lip she added,
"I'd inherit a ton of money when my grandfather dies. Enough to buy diamond earrings and go on a world cruise."
"Grey Inc. owns a fleet of cruise ships you could take your pick. Stateroom the works. I'm sure by then you'd have found some diamonds to your taste."
She'd never liked the look of diamonds. Too cold, too flashy.
"Emeralds to go with my eyes." she said dreamily.
"Excellent choice..have you decided on an appetizer?"
The menu was in Italian with the English in script below. When she was eleven she'd spent a year in Rome with Elliot and her wayward mother. Ana said in impeccable Italian.
"I'll have fegato grasso al mango with stufato di pesce for a main course."
Each was the most expensive item on the page. Blanking out the actual dollar amount.
"How is your Carrick's fathers health? you mentioned a heart attack." She said with as much innuendo as her conscience would alllow.
"Oh I suspect he'd got a good many years in him yet. You might have to wait for that inheritance."
"Or is the inheritance like the support, nonexistent? If as you claim, I really am related to him, I could always go to the press. Illegitimate Grand daughter cheated of her rights. I can see the headlines now, can't you?" She retorted.
With a flourish the waiter put the martinis on the table, and took their orders. Ana loathed olives. she picked up the frosted glass and took a hefty swallow. Her face convulsed.
"that's straight antifreeze!"
"Your first martini?" Christian said innocently.
"They don't serve them at the chicken takeout, I see why. who's want to eat olives pickled in ethylene glycol?" she grimaced.
Christian signaled the waiter, asked for a brandy Alexander and said smoothly.
"Carrick hates martinis too and loves the ocean."
"Does he how nice. You know if allegedly he's been supporting me since I was born he owes me quite a backlog. I'd better hire a good lawyer." She smiled at him batting her eyelashes.
"It would have to be a very good one to take on Grey Inc."
"Then there's you, you make Carrick's fortune look like small change." She said in a voice like cream, brushing his fingers with her own letting them linger until every nerve in his body tightened.
It was the first time she'd touched him voluntarily and how he loathed her motive for doing it. Holding tight to his temper Christian watched her pout her raspberry red lips, heard her purr.
"I'd be a fool to turn my back on you or Carrick, Christian. But especially you."
His voice taut because there was a limit to what a man had to put up with.
"Do you know what I did today?" Christian said.
"No"
"I wandered around the village talking to people about you, People who've known you for the better part of eleven months"
The pout was gone, he noticed with mean pleasure replaced by blank shock. Calmly he kept going.
"I'm sure you'd agree with me that the islanders to a man or woman are sober New Englanders who don't go for flattery. They described you as reliable, honest, frugal, hardworking. Likes to walk on the beaches by herself. Hardly ever goes off the island. No friends. No wild parties. No men."
Ana gripped the edge of the table.
"You spent the day gossiping about me? How dare you! And why would they talk to you? The islanders aren't just sober, they're closed mouthed to a fault."
"several years ago, I paid top dollar to buy up ninety percent of the island. made it into a nature conservancy to protect it fro development, the only concession being that I build this place." Christian waved his martini at his surroundings.
"So I'm like a dirty sock the islanders love me, so you might want to drop the gold digger act, it's wasted on me. You can't fool and islander if they say you're honest as the tide turns I'll go along with that."
For now he added silently.
With exquisite timing, the waiter deposited a creamy drink sparkling with nutmeg in front of her. She glared at it, trying to gather her wits. She'd just made a total fool of herself, good job Ana. What's the follow up?
"Try your drink." Christian said, giving her the full benefit of his smile. One if his women had called it lethal, another said dynamite. It was a weapon he wasn't above using when it suited him.
But instead of blushing in confusion or smiling back. She said furiously.
"I've never laid my eyes on one red cent of your fathers money."
"That was the next item on the agenda."
He waited while her antipasto was out in front of her.
"I talked to Carrick today. He's stubborn, cantankerous old man, who likes control and claims he's mislaid the investigator's report"
"You haven't seen it?"
The emotion in her face was unquestionably relief. Christian picked up his fork.
"No. But I did get out of Carrick by sheer bloody mindedness the investigator's discovery that ever since your father died six years ago, your allowance has been siphoned off the account by your mother, I can only presume Elliot Senior took it prior to that."
Briefly Ana shut her eyes. Her parents. Her father with his unpredictable rages, his drug induced highs and her mother who was wild willful and never to be trusted, the rooms she thought oh them god awful rooms...
"What's wrong?" Christian demanded.
When she opened her eyes she was back in the elegant dining room with its high arched windows and vaulted ceiling and a pair of stormy grey eyes boring into her soul.
"I'm fine." she said flatly and with superhuman effort pulled herself together. The brandy Alexander was amazing as it slid down her throat. The array of silver looked a little less intimidating. Carefully she selected the mate of the fork Christian used and took a bite of mango, chewing thoroughly, tasting nothing.
"You called me a liar back at the cabin."
"I shouldn't have doubted you," Christian said curtly. At least with regard to Carrick's monthly support he shouldn't have. But he still had plenty of other questions about the all too desirable and highly enigmatic Anastasia Steele.
The tight knot in her chest easing somewhat for hadn't he more or less apologized?
"You still wish I was a thousand miles away from Carrick don't you? So you and I are on the same wavelength. The distance will be forty miles not a thousand but forty miles is plenty. Because I don't care about the Grey money. His or yours. I like my life here on the island it's all I want and I am not leaving here. You can tell my grandfather I'm grateful he did his best to support me and that it wasn't his fault that I never saw the money. But it's to late now. I don't need his support anymore." she said shrewdly.
Her green eyes blazed with honesty, Disconcerted, Christian discovered in himself a contrary and ridiculous urge to take her words at face value. To trust her.
He'd never trusted a women in his life other then Grace whose every motive had been on the surface for all to see. Ana wasn't Grace. Ana was mysterious, fiery and unpredictable.
Trust her? He's be a fool to be betrayed by a pair of emerald green eyes.
He's been holding a weapon in abeyance. Deciding now was the time to use it.
"Carrick told me something else today, that the investigator drew a complete blank for the year you turned sixteen. The year your father died. What happened that year?" Christian asked cooly.
Her skin went cold, A roaring filled her ears. She couldn't faint again, she thought desperately. Not twice in one day. She shoved the fork in her mouth and concentrated on chewing.
She might as well have been eating cardboard.
She'd slept wrapped in cardboard for over two months.
Forcing herself to swallow, desperate to change the subject.
"Where does my grandfather spend his winters?" She said jaggedly.
Christian sat back in his chair, gazing at her, his brain in over drive. Mysterious was a euphemism where Ana was concerned. She was secretive and closemouthed a women for whom terror was a constant companion. What had she done at sixteen or what had happened to her to induce that blank eyed stare and those trembling fingers?
He shoved down a unwelcome pang of compassion, allowing all his latent distrust to rise to the surface instead.
She'd been a model of good behavior ever since she'd arrived on the island. But preceding that? What then?
"Are you in trouble with the law?" he demanded.
"No" she said but her gaze was downcast and her voice lacked conviction.
Fine, he thought. I might just do some investigating on my own behalf. Carrick likes to think he holds the reins but I'm the one in control here.
With equal certainty Christian knew that if he didn't bring Anastasia Steele back to his fathers place Carrick would order the chauffeur to drive him to the island and find her himself.
"You speak very good Italian." He said casually.
"When I was twelve I lived in Rome for a year." She glanced up her eyes shuttered.
"I also speak German, Dutch, French and a smattering of Spanish. A European upbringing has it's advantages" which she thought bitterly, really was lying.
"Favorite artist?"
"Van Gogh. I don't see how anyone could live in Amsterdam and not love his work. Rembrandt and Vermeer close seconds."
"Your tastes in music are eclectic and you like espionage novels."
"You should be the investigator, I also like medieval art, coconut soap and pizza with lots of cheese on it." She said nastily.
Coconut he thought, It was an unsophisticated scent but it somehow suited her. Trying to focus he said at random.
"Which University did you attend?"
Her lashes flickered and she said edgily. "There are other ways of getting and education."
"Where's your mother living now?"
She dropped her fork with a clatter. "I have no idea."
Her main course was put in front of her. Ana grabbed the nearest knife and fork and started to eat. Red wine had been poured into her glass. the firelight dancing like rubies in it's depths. In sudden despair, exhausted by memories she only rarely allowed to surface she craved to be home in her little cabin, the wood stove burning a mug of hot chocolate on the table beside her.
And the clock turned back so that she'd never met Christian Grey never heard of a putative grandfather who lived only forty miles away.
"I've upset you." Christian said.
"You're good at that."
"I'd noticed. I'll book myself into a hotel and get in touch with Carrick tonight, We'll go see him tomorrow morning. Thee Library's closed Sunday and Monday I checked."
"I'm sure you did. I'm not going."
No point in arguing now, Christian thought. But at least there was some color back in her cheeks.
What had she done at sixteen? Quelling a question he couldn't possibly answer. He began talking about the Vermeer he'd seen at the Museum and discovered that she was well informed, her judgments acute, occasionally slanted in a way that fascinated him. Then of course there was the play of firelight in the thick mass of hair, the shadows shifting over her delicate collarbone and ivory throat.
Wanting her hadn't gone away, it had if anything intensified. Good thing he was known for his willpower. He was going to need all of it because to seduce Anastasia Steele would be a very bad move.
They were sipping espressos when his cell rang.
"Excuse me a minute," he said and took it from his pocket.
"Grey." He barked.
Ana straightened her shoulders, trying to work the tension from them unobtrusively. In half an hour she'd be home, her door locked and her life resuming it's normal peaceful pattern.
Peace was all she wanted, Peace order and control.
Then abruptly her attention switched to Christians side of the conversation.
"He's what? How bad? So you're at the hospital now? Okay I'll be on my way in five minutes. I'll see you tomorrow. Doc. Thanks" christian said.
He pushed the end button and thrust the phone back in his pocket. the color had drained from his face his jaw a tight line.
"Carrick's had another heart attack. A minor one according to the family doctor. We'll leave as soon as I've paid the bill"
So Christian loves his adoptive father, Ana thought and felt emotion clog her throat. Elliot hadn't loved her. Ever.
She never cried, couldn't afford to. So why did she feel like crying now? She forced the tears down, watching Christian pass over his credit card.
What if Carrick Grey had another heart attack in the night and died? She'd never meet him. Never find out if he really was her grandfather or if this whole farrago was the product of an overeager investigator. But if Carrick was by any chance truly her grandfather, blood of her blood shouldn't she see him, find out if he was a replica of Elliot or something different?
We... Christian had said a few moments ago. We'll leave... she thoroughly disliked the way he'd taken it for granted that she'd go with him.
It was her choice, and only hers.
Stay or go.
