A/N – Here's the next chapter a little early. I don't know when I'll be able to upload next week so here it is. Thank you for reading and for the feedback. Enjoy :) Camilla 'Millie' Rose. Xx.

POWER

"Steele, Elizabeth rang in sick. We need someone on the Grey report and you're the only one who knows something about it. Go get the documents signed by him." Carrick barks at me from his office.

There is a phone right beside him, could he at least stretch to pick it up and dial my desk instead of screaming at me from across the room. God, he's lazy! And he seems to be more frustrated than ever these last few days. At least Elizabeth has been the target of his harsh mouth and not me. The Grey report certainly shut him up. She's not in today, so he has no one to shout at. That's why he's probably acting like an ass.

"Okay." I agree with a tight grin; I get to see Christian. And I get to leave the office.

"Make sure all the pages of the contract are signed and delivered back here this afternoon. This article goes to print in the morning." he commands with a jab of his finger.

"I'm on it." I assure him, hastily getting up from my seat.

After Christian and I's romantic date on Wednesday it was pretty hard to refrain from calling and communicating all the time. We text a lot and he calls me in the evenings. I think opening up to him has brought us closer. We're both a lot more understanding. I'm more affectionate, knowing he's got good intentions. And he's laid back, he doesn't force me to do anything I don't want to. When he kisses me his hands stay on my ass or my torso, they never move which I appreciate. I like that he respects the invisible boundary lines. He won't do anything unless I tell him to. He waits for me to be comfortable. I adore that about him; his soft tender side.

I print the documents needed to be signed and the full report and stuff them into a file. I quickly freshen up in the loo before I leave, taking my tights off and leaving my smooth legs looking flawless in my skirt. I've shaved, exfoliated and smoothed them over with moisturizer. And they're looking pretty good after all the TLC. I wonder what Christian will think . . .

The tube ride isn't long to Christian's office. I walk through the double doors of his building with ease, no one stopping me. Maybe because I've been here before? Christian made a pretty big deal about me being here the last time, his staff fawned all over me. Maybe they remember my face? That's why I'm getting through security with no questions asked.

I ride the elevator to his floor and am surprised to see his PA's desk vacant. No one's here. Not ever his security guards. Should I wait? The lights are on in Christian's office. He's probably here and his PA is running an errand for him. Maybe everyone is in his office? I knock softly to no response.

I stop in my tracks as I walk in and find a man who isn't Christian. He's the man Christian ushered me away from. The man Christian doesn't want to talk to me about. Fuck! I shouldn't be here. I can't run. He's looking right at me. It's not like I can turn around and walk out, that'd be too suspicious and odd.

His eyes wander over me, as mine do to him. He's tall and lanky. His bald round head not helping hide his dumbo ears. I'm not sure even if he had hair he'd be able to hide them, they're so big. And the stubble decorating his face makes him look dirty. The bags under his eyes scream about his harsh life. He's stuffed himself into a well polished suit, fitted to his body, and even in immaculate clothing he makes it look soiled.

"Can I help you?" he calls out. He has really bad teeth. Yellow and rotten.

"I'm looking for Mr. Grey." I try and sound confident.

He gives me his full attention. "What do you want with Mr. Grey?" he demands to know.

"I just need Mr. Grey to sign something." I tell him, flicking my eyes away from his beady irises.

"Is it important?" he wonders, looking conniving.

"Not really." I quickly throw him off, tucking the folder under my arm.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, he hasn't arrived yet. Traffic or some shit excuse." he walks confidently around Christian's desk and takes a seat. He's comfortable in here . . . overly comfortable.

"I'll come back later then." I start to shuffle backwards, uncomfortable of the way his harsh analysing eyes look me up and down. I wore a short skirt for Christian, not for this ugly vulgar man.

"No need." his words stop my movements. "Wait here for Christian. He'll be along soon."

"I should leave." I slightly gulp as he rises from the chair. He's showing his hand at supremacy.

"Take a seat." he orders with soft warning.

I look around myself, intimidated by his tone and stance. I slowly do what he says, trying to buy myself time as I drawl out my movements. Why the fuck did I come here unannounced? A moment of impulse has turned into a moment of deep regret. Christian is not going to like it one bit that I'm sat in front of the man he was so quick to usher me away from. And I'm starting to understand why.

The way his eyes pierce me like launched pellets, staring at my crossed legs exactly where my skirt ends just above my knees. He gazes longingly at my bare calfs all the way down to my feet. His eyes hover over my ankles before sweeping up to my torso. I feel my stomach twist sickly when he licks his lips against the view of my v-neck blouse. He ogles my modest chest and examines my collarbones with interest, his eyes almost biting my neck as he takes me in.

I shift uncomfortably against his scrutiny. I keep clearing my throat to make sure I don't vomit. The way he stares with such unlawful intent is beyond disgusting. He's degrading me right before my eyes. Undressing me without permission. I almost can see his imagination running wild and I hate it. He's revolting.

"What's your name?" he asks out of the blue, eyes still fixated on the top button of my blouse that sits just above my breasts.

"Um . . ." I swallow. Christian will kill me if I reveal anything, but he already knows me from last time! Christian said my name. "Ana." I keep it short. Ana could be a variation of so many things.

"Short and sweet." he compliments.

I bite the inside of my cheek to compose my sickened expression.

"What do you do here, Ana?" he wonders.

"Um . . . I – I – I," I stutter, blinking harshly to try and get my thoughts together. "I work in a cubicle. Fax machines." I rush to say. It's all I can think of.

His lips pucker as he nods his head. "Decent enough job." he comments with harsh criticism. He's not impressed by my said career choice in the slightest. "And, what else is it that you do around here?" he perches himself on the edge of Christian's desk.

I try to conceal my gag as he thrusts his hips forward to make his bulge known. I stare at his face, refusing to acknowledge what he wants noticed. He's being overly suggestive.

"Nothing." My voice is breathless with disgust. "Just fax machines." I sound simple. Maybe if he deems me an idiot he'll leave me alone?

"What floor do you work on?" he smirks, seeming too interested.

Oh dear god . . . he wants to fuck me.

"Third floor." my voice is clipped with distaste.

"Basement . . . nice and cozy down there." he smiles widely, a smile only carried by an evil fucker. I want to slap his face. I want to swipe that smug look from his lips and bite back with severe words, but I know that's the worst thing I could do. He has the look of the devil about him. And I don't wish to step into his hell.

"What are you holding?" he eyes the file in my hands.

"Just something for Mr. Grey to sign." I mumble, looking anywhere but at him.

"A contract?" he looks interested.

"No, Sir. An insurance form." I lie, my eyes falling to the ground so they don't give me away.

His eyes change. "And what would a clerk in a cubicle be reading documents for?"

I gulp hard, my eyes helplessly bugging out of my head. "I just looked at the logo of the insurance company as it came through." I string out my explanation, as fast as possible.

"You shouldn't be reading that, though. Should you?" he becomes authoritative. It's like he's trying to parent me or dominate me in some way. It brings back some harmful memories. I feel like a puppet, my strings being pulled in whichever direction he wishes.

My skin crawls. "No, Sir. I shouldn't be." I agree. It's all I can do; keep him talking until Christian gets here.

"You should be sanctioned for your mistake." his eyes are dark with lust. "Do you know what another word for 'sanction' is?" It's as if he's talking to an incompetent child.

"No, Sir." I shake my head.

"Punishment." he bites the inside of his lip in contemplation. "P-U-N-I-S-H-M-E-N-T." he spells it out. "You need a punishment."

"I'll report to my boss." I volunteer.

"As of now, I am your boss." he stands.

I jump in my seat at his sudden spring to his feet. I stand too, feeling uncomfortable sitting down. Being smaller than someone towering over me has me wanting to fly far away. I feel like running out the door and getting as much distance as possible between he and I, but I fear him coming after me. Getting stuck in an elevator with him is a nightmare come true.

I squeak when the door behind us opens. A harsh entrance that leaves the door banging as it hits the frame. I glance behind myself at Christian. His eyes are wide with surprise, mouth agape at my presence and his head swinging back and forth between his client and myself. In a nanosecond the lightbulb within his head flickers on.

My drained expression tells him everything he needs to know. Words have been said that have upset me. And me being upset, upsets Christian. His eyes dart to the man standing without a care behind his desk, who gazes back at Christian impassively.

"Leave, Ana." Christian says through tight lips.

I drop everything and scuttle out the door. I feel my stomach rolling and I know it's only a matter of time before I hurl.

"Bathroom?" I say in panic to the woman at the front desk.

"Down the hall to the left." she answers automatically. "Ma'am, are you alright?" she calls after me as I rush down the corridor and thrust myself into a bathroom stall.

I just make it to the bowl when I lose control of myself. My stomach empties noisily and I cough and gag repeatedly against the image of his salacious eyes. The way he looked me up and down. All of his suggestive remarks and dominating stances. He's sick. A first class pervert.

"Miss, what's going on in here?" the woman from the front desk stands behind me awkwardly.

Can she not answer that question herself with what's happening before her eyes? God, can she just leave me alone?

I hurl again, choking on my own sick as I clutch the rim of the toilet to keep myself from losing balance in my crouched position. I frown at the commotion happening behind me, the toilet door being slammed open.

"Mr. Grey, you shouldn't be in here." she complains from behind me.

"Olivia, get out of here. Go get a bottle of ice-cold water, a wash cloth and any zesty drink you can find. High sugar would be good." he orders in a calm authoritative tone.

The door opens and closes again, Christian's arms placing themselves on my waist as he supports me. I lean into his hold and groan as he flushes away the contents of my stomach.

"You done?" he ponders.

"I think so." I croak, leaning my elbows on the toilet seat and letting myself fall forward into them.

Olivia comes back with what Christian has asked for and then makes a hasty retreat. I hear Christian rummaging around and a faint trickle of liquid hitting the ground before a wet washcloth is pressed to my forehead.

"Come here, sit back against me." he sits me down on the ground between his legs and lets me fall back against his chest. He holds the washcloth to my forehead and hands me the zesty coca-cola. "Drink, the sugar will bring back some of your energy."

I do as he says and let my stomach settle as I breath deeply in his arms. He holds me tight while washing my face for me.

"I never want to see him again." I feel my stomach roll.

"You won't. He's been dealt with." Christian's voice is rough with anger.

"What do you mean?"

"You won't ever see him again. He'll be punished,"

I hold my finger up to stop him from talking. That word . . . I rush to the toilet bowl and hurl once more.

"Fuck, you're really sick." he sounds worried.

"He's really sick. A vulgar pervert."

"That's why I never wanted you around him. I told you to stay away." he complains.

"Right now is not the time to scold me." I warn, sitting back on my bent knees. "I need to go home." I conclude, feeling dizzy.

"You do. Taylor's outside. As soon as you're stable enough, we'll go." he decides.

"Just tell me one thing while we're still next to the toilet," I plead for an answer.

"What?"

"Who is he?" I have to ask. It's killing me not to know.

Christian sighs. "He's the head of a gang. We're talking business about another shipment . . . he feels illusive and un-getable, a real ladies man. He's full of himself. He controls prostitutes, leaving him with the feeling that he's a real catch. They flock him for his fucking money and because that's their job. He seems to think it's because of his looks and personality; thinks he can have anyone and everyone."

"I never ever want to see him ever again." I restate.

"You won't. I gave him the warning he so desperately needed. He scampered out of here with his tail between his legs. And I'm not finished with him yet." There's a darkness within Christian's tone.

I gag against his sound. "I'm done talking about this."

"Let's get you home." he suggests, cleaning me up and lifting me to my feet.

I sway a little, having Christian puppet my movements. I compose myself enough to get myself to the sink. I rinse my mouth out, gurgling water to wash away the bitter taste. I clear my face once more before feeling well enough to walk out the bathroom door.

"One step at a time." Christian eases me into the elevator.

I control myself as best I can upon the decent. The stairs would have been a better option, all twenty stories. My stomach wouldn't feel so flippy-floppy. I manage to make it to Taylor in one piece, my stomach holding out the whole ride home. I distract myself by the radio, listening to other peoples words than the ones that recount themselves in my brain.

"He freaked me out." I admit when I walk through my front door.

"Was it his words or him?" Christian wonders, it's as if he doesn't want to ask because he doesn't want to make me ill but he's desperate to have some answers.

"He looked me over a little too invasively." I put it lightly. "I felt like a piece of meat . . . and he started talking about the P word." I cough out a gag.

"P word?" Christian's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"The word you said that made me puke. The moment I held my finger up to stop you from talking." I remind him.

"Pun-" he starts to say.

"Shut up." I groan. "Stop."

"Sorry." he looks guilty. "That will never be a possibility, Ana. Ever." he promises.

"I know. It just made me sick. The way he treated me." I fold my arms as I flop down on the couch, kicking my shoes off and curling into a ball. "Especially when I dressed for you. I'm yours."

A look of territorial pride hits his eyes. "And I love the way you're dressed." he compliments, soft eyes looking at mine before flattering my body with a sweet calm gaze before looking back at my face. "He's a pig. A fucking bombast. There are no amount of disgusting words to describe him. He's gone. Finished with. Don't let him rule your thoughts, Anastasia. Forget him. It won't happen ever again. I'll make sure of it." he sits beside me, holding my hands in his.

"I believe you." I lean into him for a hug. His hugs are the best. Tight and present. I feel safe in his arms.

"Why don't you go have a bath and clean yourself up? I'll make you some tea and you can rest." He suggests.

"Sounds good." I agree, watching him walk away.

I frown when noticing his slight limp is overly prominent today. He's always had a slight hiccup whilst he walks, not completely fluid as if he has a modest problem with his leg. It's not noticeable to anyone unless you really examine Christian as intently as I do, and since we've met, I've gotten used to it.

I hadn't noticed it earlier but he's limping harshly, placing all his weight on his good leg and hardly allowing the foot of his bad leg to press against the ground. That guy back at the office didn't belt him, did he? My eyes widen.

"You're limping." I comment from where I stand, scanning his leg as he moves around.

"Yes." Christian agrees, looking nonchalant as he throws a tea bag into a mug.

"Did you injure yourself?" I decide to play it cool, I don't want to bombard him or make accusations. I know he doesn't like it when I do that.

"No. My hip locks sometimes. It gives out and gets sore if I overdo it in the gym or my activity levels are too intense. That's why I was late getting to work. I got stuck in traffic after visiting the physiotherapist." he tells me.

"What's wrong with your hip?" I blurt, biting my tongue as I wait for him to answer.

He goes quiet for a moment, his head cocked to the side in thought. "Just an accident that happened when I was younger." he answers vaguely with a shrug.

I nod to myself. Need to know . . . he'll tell you one day, my subconscious chimes.

"I'm going to head to the tub." I say, watching his shoulders fall from their tensed position at my words.

What is he not telling me?

After scrubbing my teeth clean, I fill the bath with a slight smile. Christian can be so sweet sometimes. He's very caring. A quality I adore about him. He's proving to be a compassionate human being, despite everything that goes on within his life. He's beyond decent.

I let myself soak in the fragrant water, feeling much better than before. The hot water heats my skin and washes away every bit of disgust I feel. I wrap myself in my fluffy robe and tie my hair into a messy bun. Christian seems pleasantly surprised by my appearance when I exit the bathroom. It is his first time seeing me without makeup and my hair in a mess. But, my head is too full of other thoughts to care. I can't focus on how I look, at least I'm clean and decent.

"Here's your tea." he says from where he lounges on my bed. He's watching some gameshow on the TV.

"Thanks." I cuddle under the duvet and sink back against the pillows. "I'm tired." I whisper out.

"Sleep. I'll stay if you don't mind? I'll work quietly from my iPad." he tells me.

"That's fine." I feel good about it but a little weird. Sleeping next to him. I haven't been unconscious around him. We've never slept together.

"You're sure you don't want to kick me out?" he asks. "I'll understand." he offers.

"I'm good with it, Christian. You can stay. Just don't make any moves." I warn with a raised eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes at me, "I won't."

"Then we're all good." I laze back, sipping my tea. "You make a good cuppa." I compliment, my hands being warmed by the mug.

"Thanks. I drink tea all the time. At least twelve cups a day." he mutters.

"Twelve a day?" I'm surprised. "That's a lot."

"I'm English." he shrugs.

"Mmmm . . ." I agree, drinking up.

"What is it that you came to my office for?" he asks, glancing over at me.

I meet his eyes. "I need you to sign the contract for the article, so we can publish it and mark it as real quotes from your mouth. Not just 'source' pieces of information." I inform him.

"You couldn't fax it over to my office?" he looks confused.

I blush crimson. "I wore a short skirt for a reason." My body is flaming hot.

"You wanted to tease me?"

"Mmm-hmmm," I'm too embarrassed to form any words.

"I'm flattered." he smiles. A wide toothy grin.

"I took my tights off before I left my office." I add.

He chuckles to himself. "Fucking traffic," he complains.

I laugh for the first time all day. "You would have got there early if you'd have known?"

"I sure would have." he cocks an eyebrow. "You're delicious, Ana." he hums. "Well, at least you look that way."

I feel my pulse racing. A sudden kick to my abdomen overtaking my feelings. The pleasure I feel against his words overwhelm me. "Why don't you taste me then?" I talk dirty, biting my lip as I spread my legs under the covers.

The satisfaction of seeing Christian's eyes pop wide from his head has a pool of wet leaking from my core. I suddenly feel wide awake and overly aroused. I want him, badly.

A/N – Please Review!

Thank you all for reading and for the feedback. See you next week. Xx. Camilla 'Millie' Rose.