Last night feels like a dream. Though I've never given in to such things in my life, I find myself having to pinch myself all throughout breakfast as Ana and I sit beside each other at the breakfast bar and just... talk. We talk like we have all this year as though nothing has changed between us—like we didn't admit that we're in love and proved that fact to each other in the best way possible. I suppose, in a way, nothing has changed. We're still Christian and Ana, two people who go out of their way to spend time together. I never stopped thinking of her as mine and now I don't have to. Right now, we are in a far better place than we were last year when she left me and it can only get better from here.
"You're very quiet," Ana says, finishing off the last of her breakfast by swiping her bacon in the syrup from her pancakes. "Deep thoughts?"
I smirk at her. "Not deep at all," I answer. "I was just thinking about dragging you back to bed and having my wicked way with you again."
She blushes, surreptitiously glancing around the kitchen to check whether we're alone. "Tempting as that is," she says, smiling shyly, "we both need to get to work."
I frown at her. "You're going to work today?" I ask incredulously.
Sighing, she sits back in her stool, turning to look at me. "Yes, Christian," she says, exasperated. "I am going to work today."
"Ana, you were in the hospital yesterday! You need to rest."
"I'm fine," she insists. "And as far as rest goes, you didn't seem particularly bothered by it last night, did you?"
"That's different," I say stubbornly, even though I know it really isn't. I still have the overwhelming need to keep her safe; it will never go away. "There could be delayed side effects, Anastasia, and you should be somewhere safe just in case."
She rolls her eyes at me and while it still makes my palms twitch, she doesn't look the slightest bit intimidated. Not that I really want her to be intimidated. Do I? "If I start feeling sick, I'll go home," she says with strained patience. "But in the meantime, I have a lot of work to do today and I can't afford to just sit around."
I know she isn't talking about affording it monetarily; she's still trying to prove herself at SIP. It's no secret that she and I are close, and there are people who assume it's because of her relationship to me that she's gotten as far as she has. It's bullshit, of course, and the gossip has never bothered me. Ana is another story altogether. She's too focused on what people think of her and in some ways, it's held her back quite a bit—not that I'll ever vocalize that belief.
Sighing, she reaches for my hand. "Look, I'm not trying to lessen the severity of what happened the other night—I know it could have been very different for me. But I'm okay, Christian. Really, I am. I know you worry. I know you're just trying to protect me, but I've told you before that you can't keep me locked up and safe from every threat in the world. It's too much for me to deal with and you'll just worry yourself into an early grave. And that," she says quietly, smiling at me, "is not something I want to see. I love you and I do understand, but you have to trust that I know what I'm doing just as I trust that you know what you're doing."
There have only been a few times in my life that I have truly been speechless and every one of them has happened in this woman's presence. "Fair point well made, Miss Steele," I murmur, bringing her hand to my lips to kiss each of her knuckles. "Just take it easy. Please?"
"I will," she promises, her eyes wide as her breathing changes.
I smirk. "I think we've already established that we both have work this morning which means we don't have much time," I remind her. "We'll give you a ride to SIP and we'll pick you up afterwards." I frown, suddenly uncertain. "Will you be coming back here tonight?"
She smiles at the hope that laces my tone. "I could," she says slowly, sliding off her chair and moving forward until she's pressed against me. "Or you could come to mine."
"Hmm," I respond, spotting Taylor in the foyer, clearly waiting for us. "Well, it is Monday, after all. You cook, I bring the wine, we pick a shitty movie, and unwind?" This has been a habit of ours for the last several months. At first it was awkward, being alone with her with liquor and a shared couch, but I look forward to these nights more than she knows. It makes me feel normal; she makes me feel normal. I'm just a guy hanging out with his best friend on these nights and it's so easy to forget that I spend my days dominating the world of mergers and acquisitions. She is the only one who can do that for me.
"Your place it is." I swallow hard, surprised at the emotions I've been feeling for the last few days. Her brow furrows at the change in my mood, but I don't give her the opportunity to say anything. "Come. We should get going. Work awaits."
We're both rather preoccupied on the ride to SIP, but even as I answer phone calls and return emails, I hang on to Ana's hand for dear life. Beside me, she's texting her mother and Ray to assure them she's fine after her hospital stay and that they shouldn't worry. I try not to listen in to her one-sided conversation when her mother calls, but when she begins discussing with her mother about flying down to Savannah for a few days, I feel a horrible sense of déjà vu. Last year, her trip to Savannah was the beginning of the end for our relationship. But it won't be like that this time; we know each other better, we're more honest with ourselves and one another than we ever have been, and we won't let that happen to us again. For one, there is no way in hell Anastasia will see the inside of my playroom for a very long while, if ever. I can't even step into that room without getting sick with the memory of the last time I was in there with her. I haven't even considered it. I wonder vaguely whether she has.
Taylor clears his throat from the front seat and I look up to discover we've pulled up outside SIP. Before Ana can reach for her door handle, I'm doing it for her, taking her hand as she exits the SUV. She reaches back in for her purse and I reach back in for my messenger bag, and we make our way into the building. It's not until we reach the elevator that Ana asks the obvious question.
"Um, what are you doing?" she asks, looking at me as though I've grown two heads.
I smirk. "I have a meeting with Jerry Roach this morning," I inform her. "I made the appointment last week."
"Really?" she asks skeptically. We step into the elevator and she leans against the wall, eyeing me warily. "And after this meeting of yours with Roach, were you going to come see me?"
I do love it when she gets feisty... "As a matter of fact, yes, I was," I say honestly. "In fact, I was planning on ending the meeting in time to coincide with your lunch break so I could come down and invite you to eat with me."
She raises an eyebrow at me. "So even after I said we needed space and time away from each other, you were going to disregard my wishes and harass me at work?"
I snort. "First of all," I say, moving to press her against the elevator wall, "I had no intention of harassing you at work. Yes, I had planned on asking you for lunch, but if you'd said no, that would have been it. Besides, even if you rejected me, it would have been more than worth it just to see you."
For a moment, I seem to have rendered her speechless. It's not something that happens often, but when it does ... well, I can't help the smug pride I feel. "That's either very sweet or very stalkerish, Christian," she murmurs without conviction, her hands sliding up my chest to lock around my neck.
"Which is it, Miss Steele?" I whisper against her lips, feeling her smile. More than anything, I love the feeling of being with her like this, right now as the entire world around us fades away, leaving only our rapid heartbeats and breaths caught in our chests. Slowly kissing her, tangling my fingers in her hair, I lose myself in the moment, hardly noticing when Ana stiffens against me as the elevator doors open.
"Oh, sorry!"
I pull away from her and glance to the left, finding Claire, SIP's receptionist standing outside the elevator, her face flushed and her hands covering her mouth. Smiling tightly, I step back from Ana, carefully readjusting her dress and smirking at her wide-eyed expression. "Think nothing of it, Claire," I murmur, wrapping my arm around Ana's shoulders until she's pressed against me again. I'm not normally the touchy-feely sort of guy, but all that changes when Ana is around. I need to have her nearby to reassure myself it's all real. Claire steps into the elevator with us and I can feel the mortification rolling off Ana in waves at being caught while I try to hide my smirk.
Nobody speaks as we rise to Ana's floor and Claire rushes out before the doors have even opened fully. I turn to look down at Ana, finding her shaking in laughter. "That'll give them something to talk about today," she mutters. I grin widely at her, tempted to give the good people of SIP even more to talk about by pressing her against the nearest wall. Her brow furrows as she studies me. "You're... different somehow..."
Taking her hand, I lead her out of the elevator towards her office, stopping at the door. "Well, that tends to happen when a man's dreams come true," I say softly, tilting her chin back to look into her eyes.
"And have your dreams come true, Christian?" she asks shyly, looking up at me through her bangs.
I smile slowly, reliving last night yet again. "They're starting to, Anastasia," I murmur, leaning in to kiss her briefly. Sighing, I know I need to put distance between us if we have any hope of getting any work done today. "So about that lunch..."
She bites her lip briefly. "Well, you'll have to ask me again later, won't you?" she asks sweetly. "I wouldn't want you to be late for your appointment with Mr. Roach."
Honestly, I couldn't give a shit about Roach. This appointment was made solely with the intent of being in the same building as Ana, but I suppose since I'm here I might as well make it a productive visit. "Indeed, Miss Steele." I have to kiss her again; it would be a crime to pass up the chance now that I'm allowed to do it again. "Until later, have a good morning. I love you."
She gasps and I light up inside at the obvious pleasure my words cause her. "I love you, too, Mr. Grey," she whispers.
Grinning like a damned fool, I watch her until she disappears into her office, turning on my heel and heading toward Roach's office.
My morning passes uneventfully and all I can really focus on is the thought of grabbing Anastasia, dragging her back to my apartment, and making her scream my name again. I resist, though, and endure hours of having my ass kissed by Jerry Roach and Elizabeth Morgan. The only interesting things that pop up during my visit are the news that Ana will indeed be receiving that promotion offer, probably before the day is through, and the announcement that her first assignment as editor will be to attend a conference in New York alongside several other editors. Several emotions war for importance inside me, particularly the one that realizes Ana will spend two nights in the same hotel as Jack Hyde. This same conference popped up last year and I managed to keep her from attending—she still doesn't know that I interfered—but I'm not sure I could successfully pull it off again.
Well, I could; I own the fucking company, after all. I think about what Ana said to me this morning and all throughout the last year about needing me to back off just a little when it comes to protecting her. That will never happen, but that doesn't mean I won't find some other way to keep her safe. Despite what happened the other night, I know she can take care of herself and she will hold her own against Jack Hyde. But I've seen the way he looks at her, his gaze predatory and lustful. I look at her the same way, but my intentions are far different from his. He wants to take advantage of her; I want to love her. There is no fucking way I will be leaving her alone with that dick.
Just as planned, my meeting ends right around Ana's scheduled lunch hour. I politely decline the invitation to join Roach, Elizabeth, and the senior editors of the company for lunch and quickly make my way through the building towards Ana. Only a few hours have passed since I last saw her and I already feel bereft and needy to be with her. Is it because I'm still not totally convinced she's back with me again or do I just need her more than I need my next breath? I'm sure Flynn will have plenty to say on the subject.
In the meantime, I have an hour to spend with Ana—a lot could happen in an hour...
For example, Taylor and I could quietly dispose of Jack Hyde's body after I murder him for bending over Ana as she sits at her desk whispering in her ear. The only thing keeping me from a murderous rampage is the look of discomfort on her face; then again, he's making her uncomfortable, pressing his chest into her back with his hands planted on either side of her on the desk while she types something. Perhaps the rampage is called for, after all.
I clear my throat, my fingers just itching to strangle the fuck out of Hyde. He shoots up into a standing position immediately, looking utterly unbothered by what I just walked up on, even going so far as to place a proprietary hand on her shoulder. "Grey," he says tightly, smirking at me.
I don't know how much he knows about my history with Ana, but whenever I visit her at work, he's there smirking like the smug, hippie bastard he is with the knowledge that Ana and I are "only friends". Well, fuck that; she's more than that to me—much more—and she always has been, and now is a good a time as any to remind Hyde of that. "Anastasia," I say evenly, glaring at Hyde. "Are you ready for lunch?"
All throughout this scene, Ana has been pale and wide-eyed, looking between Hyde and me as though she's just waiting for a fight to break out. "Um, yes," she says quietly, turning red as she pushes her chair away from Hyde as subtlety as possible. "I just need to get my things ..."
"Don't forget, Ana," Hyde begins, smirking at me. "You have that meeting with HR after lunch."
"Oh, right," Ana says distractedly. "Of course. Thank you, Jack."
"Anytime, sweetheart," he says, his eyes darkening on her as she bends to grab her purse.
Hissing in pain, I glance down at my hands, realizing I've clenched my fists so hard that I've dug my fingernails into my palms, drawing blood. What I wouldn't give to throw him out a fucking window right at this moment. Before I can even take a step forward, Ana is at my side, standing between me and the prick. "We should go," she whispers imploringly. "I'm hungry."
She always does know the magic words to distract me. Those are two words I couldn't ignore from her under any circumstances. With one last disgusted glare at Hyde, I wrap my arm around Ana and guide her towards the elevator. Unlike this morning when we were playful and wanting, tension surrounds us in the confined space. I can feel irritation and embarrassment fill the air around us, and I just know this lunch will not pass without an argument. Such a shame, too; I'd hoped to get at least a day or two before we began to butt heads, but clearly that won't be the case.
We're in the back of the SUV with Taylor driving through the Seattle traffic towards our favorite lunchtime destination when Ana finally breaks the silence.
"Was that really necessary?" she hisses, glaring at me.
I raise an eyebrow. "Not sure I know what you're talking about," I say dismissively, looking out the window.
"Really?" she challenges. "Every time you come into the office, you go all caveman on Jack. How many times do I have to tell you he is just my boss?"
"Once more at least, by all means," I reply darkly. "Why have you never told me that he makes you so uncomfortable? He's constantly in your personal space and you never push him away. Why is that, Anastasia?"
I swear she growls in frustration. "Because I don't want to see you in jail for killing him," she says coolly. "As for why I never push him away, just because you don't see it happening, it doesn't mean I don't. Yes, he invades my personal space; I've gotten used to it."
Suddenly, I want to punch something. She shouldn't have to "get used" to anything like that.
She sighs beside me. "Christian, if we're going to fight, have Taylor pull over so I can walk back to work," she says tiredly.
"I wasn't aware we were fighting, Anastasia," I reply evenly, turning towards her. "You can't tell me you've managed to forget my jealous, possessive side. Just because I woke up in a better mood than I have in a year, it doesn't mean things have changed that fucking much."
"I wouldn't have expected it to," she mutters resignedly.
Neither of us speaks again until we're seated at our usual table in the back of the restaurant looking at our menus. "Ana, I'm sorry if I upset you," I say quietly when the silence becomes too much. "It certainly wasn't my intention; quite the opposite in fact. I can't stand the guy and I can't stand the fact that he thinks it's appropriate to behave the way he does towards you. I've already told you what happened to his previous PAs; I don't want to see the same thing happen to you. It would fucking kill me, Ana."
Glancing up at her, I find she's still looking over her menu, but the pissed off expression on her face has softened. "I can see where you're coming from," she starts carefully. "But I have never nor will I ever give him the opportunity to hurt me. And even if he tries, I know how to defend myself."
"I know you do," I say quietly, smiling slightly. A few months back, Ana joined me for a session with Claude Bastille and to my great surprise, expressed an interest in learning to kick box. She's a natural and she's gotten to the point that when she and I spar, I no longer let her win because I'm afraid of hurting her. The woman could kick my ass given the chance and knowing she can take me and anyone else puts my mind at ease. But that doesn't change the fact that I want to prevent her from ever needing to defend herself. "Just do me a favor, Ana, I mean this with every fiber of my being: I need you to tell me if he ever crosses the line."
"I will," she promises.
Sighing in relief, I pour each of us a glass of wine as our usual waitress wanders over to take our orders. Once she's gone again and Ana has rolled her eyes at the way the waitress always bats her eyelashes and dedicates all her attention to me, we just sit back and look at each other. I suddenly wish I'd requested we sit in a booth so I could pull her against me, wanting to hold her while I apologize. There is still the matter of setting Jack Hyde straight and I have no intention of ignoring the situation.
"So," I say, needing to change the subject to something lighter, "you have a meeting with HR this afternoon..." I keep my expression even, trying not to let on that I know more about that meeting than she does at this point.
"Apparently so," she murmurs, frowning as she reaches for her wine. "I have no idea why." She pauses, eyes darting to me. "Do you know?"
I snort at the accusation and incredulity in her tone. "And why would you think I know?" I ask evenly.
"Because you're the owner of the company I work for and your stalking tendencies know no bounds," she replies in the same tone.
Fair point well made, Miss Steele... "Well, whatever it's about, it's nothing to do with me." I don't even have to lie about that; I had nothing to do with the management wanting to offer her the promotion. "But if it's any consolation, I doubt it's anything negative."
"Hmm," she says skeptically; she knows me far too well sometimes and can see right through me. "You know, it's still a bit disconcerting having you as my boss's boss's boss."
I want to correct her by saying that soon I'll simply be her boss's boss, but I hold my tongue. "Ana, I've never interfered with your career and I am not going to start now."
She relaxes significantly at my words. "Right, well, let's talk about something else—this conversation never fails to give me a headache..."
"Shall we talk about last night?" I ask innocently, unable to hold back the huge grin on my face. She narrows her eyes at me, but I can tell she is thinking about it, too. "Or perhaps what I plan on doing to you tonight?"
Her mouth drops open in shock. "Or we can talk about how I'm going to visit my mother next week," she says, blushing.
I chuckle, though my amusement is fleeting. I always hate it when one of us leaves town for any length of time because my mood takes an immediate nosedive when I can't see her whenever I want to. "How long will you be gone?" I ask softly, sipping my wine.
"A few days," she answers with a shrug. "I need to be back by the end of the week since all the editors are going to that convention in New York."
"Can I persuade you to take my jet?" I ask hopefully, wanting her to travel safely and in style.
"I've already purchased a ticket," she answers. "Thank you, though."
Sighing, I nod. "I'll miss you," I admit softly.
She smiles shyly, reaching for my hand and lacing our fingers together. "I'll miss you, too, but it will only be a couple of days." I'm not sure if she's trying to convince herself or me.
The rest of lunch is filled with much less depressing talk and long before I'm ready, Ana and I are back in the SUV heading back to SIP. I kiss her deeply before she gets out of the car, a promise of what she can expect this evening, and I watch as she dazedly enters the building and heads to the elevator.
Smirking, I turn to look forward. "Grey House, please, Taylor," I request.
"Yes, sir," Taylor responds.
It will only be a few hours before I see Ana again, and she's only just left me, but I already miss her. Apparently I'm in far deeper than I ever thought possible.
Since dropping Ana off at SIP again, I've been checking my phone more than usual, expecting her to contact me with the news of her promotion, but I haven't heard a word. Even when I sent her an email asking when she would be finishing work, her reply was too brief, informing me that she'd meet me outside at six-thirty. Taylor and I have been waiting for ten minutes now and I'm beginning to feel nervous for some reason. Normally, Ana and I spend our days exchanging email banter and I had assumed today would be no different. I have no idea what it means that I've barely heard from her.
When she finally exits the building, I open my door and slip out to allow her climb in without having to walk around. There is no welcoming smile on her face, none of the usual spark in her eyes as she trains them on me. I can't quite identify her expression aside from it's not one I've seen on her before. I've seen her upset, embarrassed, nervous, happy, and livid, and this look doesn't fit any of the usual characteristics.
"Hi," I say warily when she reaches me.
"Hi," she replies curtly, getting into the car without hesitation.
She's pissed about something. I only wish I knew what that might be. "How was the rest of your day?" I ask tentatively, getting in beside her.
She raises an eyebrow at me as though she's silently saying don't be stupid or perhaps don't lie to me. It gives me a hint of what is bothering her at least... "A little forewarning would have been nice," she mutters as Taylor pulls into traffic. "I went into that office thinking the worst and then I was blindsided. And don't you dare tell me you didn't know about this at lunch; I can't handle listening to you lie to me right now."
I frown. "I thought you'd be happier," I say slowly, wondering exactly what the problem is. She has spent a year proving herself to SIP management and it's finally paying off; so why isn't she jumping for joy?
"Did you now," she says caustically, looking out the window rather than at me. "Yes, because I absolutely love being embarrassed with every one of my coworkers watching. It was humiliating, Christian."
Now I'm really confused. "I'm not sure we're talking about the same thing," I say quietly. "I was referring to the promotion..."
For a moment, I see the happiness in her eyes I expected to see before, but it slips away and I'm left wondering what put that look on her face. "I'm thrilled about the promotion," she says softly. "And I'm not mad that you knew about it before I did."
"So what is the problem?" I ask impatiently.
She turns to glare at me. "Don't pretend you don't know," she warns.
"I'm not pretending! Ana, I have no fucking clue what's going on right now!"
"Fuck it," she mutters. "Taylor, please drop me off at my apartment."
Taylor glances between us in the rearview mirror. "Yes, Miss Steele," he says when I give him a minute nod.
"Are you going to talk to me or just sit there and fucking stew?" I snap when ten minutes have gone by without either of us speaking a word. "Tell me what it is you think I did, Anastasia."
She shakes her head. "I can't have this conversation right now, Christian," she whispers and I feel a pang of guilt when I realize she's crying. I want to pull her into my arms, but I have a feeling my touch would be far from welcome at the moment. "Just drop me at home and we'll talk once I've calmed down."
The meaning of her words hits. "I'm not coming in?" I ask carefully.
"No."
What the fuck is happening right now? I want to yell at her, shake her until she starts talking. Hell, I'd take her into the playroom and get her to admit what is bothering her. Or I would if that room didn't scare the shit out of me these days. When we pull up outside Ana's apartment, she wastes no time getting out and quickly heads to the door.
"Ana, wait!" I call, jumping out behind her. Either my reflexes are getting slow in my old age or Ana is getting faster because before I even reach her, she's going inside, locking the door behind her. "Fuck!" I fist my hands in my hair. I could stand her all night until she comes out to talk to me; I don't want to leave her alone without knowing what I've done. I could use the key she gave me to her apartment and rush in behind her to sort this shit out. But maybe she has a point; she put distance between us for a reason. Both of us have a tendency to let our tempers out before we can control it and it's caused problems in the past; if I stay here, we'll end up fighting and flinging insults and accusations at one another.
With the utmost reluctance, I return to the SUV, directing Taylor to take me home. Maybe I'll spend some time in the gym, kicking the shit out of a punching bag to let out all my frustrations rather than taking them out on her.
What I don't understand is how she and I went from being so happy and relaxed this morning to not even speaking this evening. I sent her text messages throughout the evening asking if she's ready to talk, if she's okay, if I have any hope in salvaging our relationship. Not that losing her again is even an option; she will not slip through my fingers again without one hell of a fight from me.
It's nearly midnight when my email pings, alerting me of a new message, and I feel every bit of tension leave my body when I find the message is from Anastasia. The body of the email is empty, only showing the attachment icon. Nervously, I click on it, downloading what seem to be photographs. It takes me a minute to realize what I'm seeing, but now I know why Ana was pissed off, why she needed to get away from me. They are scanned photos taken in my playroom—the insurance policy I kept of my submissives over the years. Or they are at first glance; studying them more closely, I realize something is wrong with these. I'm clearly one of the subjects, wearing only the old blue jeans I wear in the playroom. None of the photos show my face or the submissive's, but in the corner of each one is a time stamp, all dated in the last year.
"Son of a bitch," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose as my eyes close. Of course Ana is pissed off with me; last night, I told her I hadn't been with another woman since her, yet she receives photos that make it seem as though I'm lying. But I'm not lying; I have had absolutely no interest in anybody but her. Have I done something to make her doubt my words? I don't think so, but at this point, there is no telling what is going on in her mind.
I hit reply.
From: Christian Grey
To: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Photos
Anastasia, I truthfully don't know what to say right now. I want to convince you I haven't lied to you—because I haven't. I've never been anything less than honest with you. These photos may be real, but the timestamps are a lie. Clearly somebody is trying to make you distrust me and it seems that it is working. I have spent a year wanting you back; do you really think I would jeopardize that by not disclosing information like whether I've had a submissive? You are far too important to me to risk pushing you away.
I can certainly understand your anger; if the situation were reversed and someone tried to convince me that you'd been with another man, my jealousy and fury would be over the top. But I know you haven't been with anyone and I thought you would know I hadn't either.
It's your move, Anastasia. You know where to find me when you want to speak. I'll be waiting. I love you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc
An hour later, there still is no response from her. Either she went to bed after forwarding those photos or she has nothing to say to me. I'm hoping for the former but expecting the latter. I've forwarded the email to Barney in IT with the demand that this is top priority and highly confidential, though I'm not concerned with these photos being leaked; I've trusted Barney with far more delicate matters and he enjoys his job, pay, and benefits far too much to consider fucking with me.
This other person, though... A few names have popped to the top of my suspect list—Taylor has been instructed to review security tapes for Escala for any hint of anyone breaking into my apartment, even though we both have an idea of when and who. Leila. I haven't seen or heard from her in more than a year—the last time, I'd gotten word that she checked herself out of the psychiatric hospital after slitting her wrists in front of Gail in my foyer. Naturally, we've had eyes everywhere, particularly after Ana returned from her mother's in Savannah, but apart from the incident of vandalism of the Audi I had given Ana for her graduation, it seemed she went back to wherever it was she came from. I suppose it's a possibility that Leila has popped back up and sent the photos to Ana. But why? And why did she disappear in the first place?
The only explanation is because of Anastasia. Clearly Leila was aware that I was with Ana last year, however briefly it had been, but the moment word got out that we'd broken up, Leila was gone. Ana and I have only, technically, been together again for about a day; was that day enough for Leila to send those photos to Ana? What I don't understand is, if Leila is behind this, why she seems so obsessed about us? We've been over for years, our arrangement had ended amicably enough, and until shortly before meeting Ana, I was providing Leila health insurance and tuition to art school. I would be more than willing to help her through whatever mental break she seems to be going through, if she came to me, but if she insists on playing games, she's only going to lose. Especially if her games result in me losing Anastasia.
Just before giving up for the night and resigning myself to sleeping alone when this morning I thought Ana would be with me, I check my email and phone in case she's replied. I grin when I see her text message.
I do trust you, Christian. If I've jumped to conclusions, I'm sorry, but sometimes I have trouble believing I could be enough for you. I need to try sleeping now, but let's talk tonight. Pizza and beer at mine? ILY Ana x
I really need to have a talk with this woman about her lack of self-confidence. In a year, ninety percent of my free time has been spent with her—not on dates with other women; not tying women up in my playroom. How could I make it any clearer or definitive for her? And of course that's the reaction she has getting these photos sent to her; she can't possibly be enough to please a man of my severe tastes, so obviously they were proof of that.
Sighing, I reply to her message. Even if she doesn't see it until morning, at least she'll know I'm not giving up.
Yes, let's talk. I'll pick you up from work at 6:30; it's supposed to rain and I don't want you walking or taking the bus. If you want to stomp your adorably independent feet in protest, by all means, do so once we're warm and dry in your apartment. I love you, too. Sleep well, baby.
Lying in bed, my head resting on my bent elbow, I try to recall whether it was this difficult to convince Ana of my intentions when we first met. Then again, my intentions at the beginning were far different than they are now. Still, I remember her inability to take a compliment from me or to understand that men find her desirable or that I wanted her and that she could be exactly what I needed. Thinking about it now, I'm not sure her doubts ever stopped; perhaps her lack of self-confidence has just become a part of her that I've accepted. I still have to convince her often that she is beautiful and though we've never actually discussed her dating or me contracting submissives, so there is every possibility she has spent the last several months believing thinking when she isn't around, I'm sneaking little brown-haired girls into my playroom.
Sighing, I know this won't be the end of her doubts—or mine for the matter, because let's be honest, Anastasia Steele deserves much better than me—but I'm sure as hell not letting those doubts take her away from me again.
A/N: Hey, I did warn you... More to come assuming I survive the plague that has entered my household. Please keep the reviews coming, loving that you're loving the story. And to answer a question that I've refused to answer with every other story regarding an HEA... Well, I wouldn't be me if I actually answered it. You'll just have to trust me on that one, I guess.
Of course, my original novels are up on Amazon if you get curious. The link is on my bio page. Until next time...
