The last view I have of Anastasia walking away from me has been haunting my mind the past week. The look in those beautiful eyes before she turned around was utter disappointment and sadness. I can't have that shit on my conscience, but I'm at a loss of what to do to change things. It's been a week since our sidewalk incident, and I'm still in Portland. I've been working from this God forsaken hotel room for a week. Working and sessions with Claude are all that can keep me grounded at this point. It's all that keeps me from actually getting out of the car when I'm parked a block down from Clayton's. She deserves so much more than me, but I want her so badly. Those lips, those eyes, Christ, Anastasia is a mystery that I desperately want to solve.
I don't want to take her into the depths with me - she wouldn't understand the darkness that surrounds me. I can't be responsible for her corruption, she's too innocent and deserving of more than what I have to give. The thought of someone else touching her tears me apart. I hate the feelings that I'm having them and that a simple woman is causing this much irritation and frustration. Taylor notices the change in me, but I know he doesn't dare ask what my plague is. Anastasia.
My mind wanders to the more pleasant conversations that we had. She's in love with British Literature, and Hardy is one of her favorites. I open my computer and order a first edition for her, but I need something else. I glance over to my briefcase and get out a slip of paper from my legal pad, tearing it in half. After I send this, I'm done.
I scrawl on the slip of paper:
Why didn't you tell me there was danger?
Why didn't you warn me?
Ladies know what to guard against, because
they read novels that tell them of these tricks…
I fold up the paper and give it to Taylor with instructions to drop it off along with the other package that should already be at her doorstep. He understands and takes off, another suit taking his place outside my door. I'm thankful for Taylor, he's able to do anything without second guessing my actions. I let out a sigh as the door clicks, waiting for my brother to call me about our dinner plans.
After a decent dinner with my brother, we return to the hotel. He's staying the night on business of his own, though we don't share a room. I'm not the type of person to share with family members, and lately I'm not in the mood to be around much of anyone. I lay in bed with my laptop, going over business models and returning client e-mails. It wasn't my plan to stay in Portland this long, but this will be the last night. My blackberry rings and I glance over. Anastasia, she must be calling about the books - I'm surprised she's actually calling me.
"Anastasia?"
"Grey..." she sounds different and my body stiffens. Is something wrong with her? "Whyyy did you send the books?" she drawls out, slurring her words. What's going on with her?
"Anastasia? Are you okay? You sound strange..." I wait anxiously for her response, and she takes her time. My lips are in a thin line as I listen to her.
"I'm not the strange one, you are!" she whispers, and now I can tell that she's been drinking. Is this a drunk dial? Who is she with? The questions pop into my mind ten at a time, and suddenly I'm standing up.
"Anastasia, have you been drinking?"
"What's it to you?" She snaps back. A feisty drunk, but drunk none the less. I manage to calm myself down a bit, perhaps she'll tell me where she is and who she's been with.
"I'm...curious, where are you?"
I can practically hear her smiling over the phone. "In a bar." This is going to be difficult.
"Which bar?" I sigh.
"A bar in Portland." Obviously, Miss Steele.
"How are you getting home?" I ask, wanting to make sure she's safe - once again.
"I'll find a way." Christ this conversation is not going how I planned. I need to help her.
"Which bar are you in, Ana?" I'm nearly pleading at this point to get information from her.
"Why did you send me the books, Christian?" she hiccups, and I can barely make out her words through the slurring.
"Anastasia, where are you? Tell me now." I nearly demand it, though my voice is calm it is laced with an icy frustration that won't seem to pass. I need to make sure she's ok and I need to do it now.
"You're so...domineering." The words cut into me. I would love to be domineering towards her, but she's making it incredibly difficult and irritating to get through to her.
"Ana, so help me, where the fuck are you?"
Her laugh is beautiful, but when she's drunk and unsafe it brings me to the next level. "I'm in Portland." she states again. "S'loonnnng way from Seattle." she continues her laughter.
"Where in Portland?"
"Goodnight Christian."
"No, Ana!" I nearly yell, but it's too late as she's already hung up the phone.
I'm pacing around my room, but it doesn't take long before I yell for Taylor, who is near me in seconds. "I need you to run a trace on this phone." I hand him my blackberry and show him Anastasia's phone number. Find her location. Now."
In mere moments Taylor, Elliott, and I are in the car and off to pick up Ana. Elliott insisted on coming after finding out we were headed to a bar - he can't get laid enough in this lifetime.
I dial Ana's number.
"Hi?" she answers, much more timid than before.
"I'm coming to get you." I hang up without giving her a moment to respond.
The bar she's at is only about ten minutes from The Heathmen, and we make it there in no time. Taylor pulls up to the curb outside the bar just in time to see Jose trying to put the moves on Anastasia. She's drunk and trying to push him away, but he doesn't listen. I instruct Elliott to go find her roommate with a description of what she looks like. He's eager to leave, and I'm much more eager to put the photographer in his place.
"I think the lady said no." I say in the calmest voice I can muster, watching Jose's greedy hands all over Ana has really made me angry. My voice is cool, and he knows how I feel about him.
"Grey" he says, almost as cool as I am.
As if it were scripted, at that very moment Ana doubles over and vomits all over the sidewalk. I rush over to her and grab her hair, moving it away from her face and out of the range of her sickness. She continues to heave as I lead her over to the bushes, her small frame shaking as she gets sick a few more times. I turn to see that Jose has gone and left her with me - that rat bastard.
"I'm sorry" she croaks, her voice soft and sad. I reach into my jacket pocket and hand her the handkerchief with my initials on it. She turns from me, embarrassed, and wipes her mouth.
My voice is calm, but I am still quite irritated with Miss Steele. "What are you sorry for, Anastasia?" This will certainly be good.
"The phone call, being sick, do you want me to write a list?" The familiar pink blush rises to her cheeks, and I soften only the slightest bit.
"We've all been here, perhaps not as dramatic as you." I pause for a moment, rubbing her back as she coughs. "I'm all for pushing limits, Ana, but this is quite further than I would have expected. Do you make a habit of this behavior?" She looks like she's been kicked in the stomach. The hurt turns to anger.
"No." she snaps. "I've never been drunk before and now I don't want to be ever again." She wavers as she stands up, as if she's about to faint.
"Ok, come on. I'll take you home." My arm is around her waist to steady her. "Careful." I breathe.
"I need to find Kate." Oh this woman is never going to leave.
I explain to her that my brother is with Kate inside, that he came from Seattle, and he's interested in the bar scene. He's more than happy to stay out all night and make sure Miss Steele's friends get home safely.
"How did you find me?"
"I tracked your phone, Anastasia." I say simply, brushing her question aside. She looks up at me with a strange expression. I can't tell if she's amused and angry, or possibly a little of both.
"Did you have a jacket?" I interrupt her thoughts.
Anastasia convinces me to go inside so she can speak with Kate and get her jacket. I don't bother to fight her on the subject, but follow her into the club, my hand resting on the small of her back. Elliot and Kate are the first people we see, dancing wildly on the dance floor. I drop her hand and take off to the bar, ordering Ana a water. I make her drink it and she glares at me, defiant and yet...submissive. After she drinks the glass we head out to the dance floor and I speak to Elliot and explain what's going on.
I take Ana's hand back in my own, a nice sense of security that she won't go running off or hurt herself. She doesn't try to get away, and as I pull her closer a strange look comes across her face. She looks at me and her eyes roll around in her head before she collapses in my arms. "Fuck!"
Kate and Elliot are unaware of what's happening with Anastasia and I'd like to keep it that way. I reach my arms under her knees and scoop her up like a child, making my way back to the car with an extra person. We manage to get outside and I get her into the Audi, much to the surprise of Taylor. She's still knocked out when I carry her up the elevator and into my suite. She's quite peaceful when she's not defying me.
"Thank you, Taylor." I offer him as I shut the bedroom door behind me.
"Goodnight, sir."
I walk back in the room and study Anastasia for a few long moments, the steady rise and fall of her chest is so peaceful. I can't take my eyes off of her as I begin to undress her. It feels wrong in a way, but I want her to sleep comfortably. I kneel next to the bed and carefully slide off her shoes and socks, placing them next to one another on a chair. I remove her jeans and place a blanket over her, not wanting her to think that I attempted anything short of just putting her to sleep.
I study her for quite some time after that, curled up in bed so soft and warm. I want to feel what she's feeling, want to feel the warmth of her skin. I haven't slept with anyone or laid in bed with anyone save for my dumb fuck of a mother. "This is a night of firsts, Miss Steele." I whisper as I change into my pajama pants and slip into bed next to her. I haven't had a dreamless sleep since I was four, but tonight, I did.
