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"Arrogance, disrespect and demand have higher price. Kindness, respect and tact give better prize."
― Angelica Hopes
CH 9
"This is how you will be with me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
She runs a scarlet fingernail across my chest.
I flinch and pull against the restraints as the darkness surfaces, burning my skin in the wake of her touch. But I don't make a sound.
I don't dare.
"If you behave, I'll let you come. In my mouth."
Fuck.
"But not yet. We've got a long way to go before then."
Her fingernail blazes down my skin, from the top of my sternum to my navel.
I want to scream.
She grabs my face, squeezing open my mouth, and kisses me.
Her tongue demanding and wet.
She brandishes the leather flogger.
And I know this will be tough to endure.
But I have my eye on the prize. Her fucking mouth.
As the first lash falls and blisters across my skin, I welcome the pain and the endorphin rush.
"Mr. Grey, we'll be landing in twenty minutes," Taylor informs me, startling me awake. "Are you okay, sir?"
"Yeah. Sure. Thanks."
"Would you like some water?"
"Please." I take a deep breath to bring my heart rate down, and Taylor passes me a glass of cold Evian. I take a welcome sip, glad that it's just Taylor on board. It's not often I dream about my heady days with Elena.
Out of the window the sky is blue, the sparse clouds pinking with the early-evening sun. The light up here is brilliant. Golden. Tranquil. The sinking sun reflecting off the cumulus clouds. For a moment I wish I were in my sailplane. I bet the thermals are fantastic up here. It would be fucking fantastic just to get the chance to let go of everything that's on my mind and just... glide.
But I can't do that now because Elena has fucked everything up. Then again, if I would have come clean a while ago, I wouldn't be in this situation. It's all on me, just the way it's always been. But the chance to make everything right is also on me and I'm not gonna let it slip through my fingers. Not this time.
I have my eyes on a different prize now.
There are two cars waiting for us when the G550 comes to a halt on the tarmac near the Signature Flight Support terminal at the airport. Taylor and I step out of the plane and into the suffocating heat and I regret the suit I'm wearing.
Hell, it's sticky, even at this time.
The rep hands the keys for both cars to Taylor. I raise a brow at him. "Ford Mustang?"
"It's all I could find in Savannah at short notice." Taylor looks sheepish.
"At least it's a red convertible. Though in this heat I hope it has AC." I mutter, adjusting my collar and getting rid of the tie. The thing is fucking choking me. Or maybe it's just my nerves.
"It should have everything, sir."
"Good. Thanks." I take the keys from him and, grabbing my messenger bag, leave him to unload the rest of the luggage from the plane into his Suburban.
I shake hands with Stephan and Beighley and thank them for a smooth flight. In the Mustang, I cruise out of the airport and onward to downtown Savannah, listening to Bruce on my iPod through the car sound system. It should calm me down but all it does is remind me of Anastasia and my reason for being here.
I'm prepared to crawl back to this woman. What has she done to me? What is it about her that makes me so... infatuated?
Andrea has booked me a suite at the Bohemian Hotel, which looks out over the Savannah River. It's dusk and the view from the balcony is impressive: the river is luminous, reflecting the graduated colors of the sky and the lights on the suspension bridge and the docks. The sky is incandescent, the colors shaded from deep purple to a rosy pink.
It's almost as striking as twilight over the Sound.
But I don't have time to stand here and admire the view. I set up my laptop, crank the air conditioning to full blast, and call Ros for an update. I hope I won't catch a fucking cold.
"Why the sudden interest in Georgia, Christian?"
"It's personal."
She huffs down the phone. "Since when have you let your personal life interfere with business?"
Since I met Anastasia Steele.
"I don't like Detroit," I snap.
"Okay." She backs off.
"I might meet the Savannah Brownfield liaison for a drink later," I add, attempting to placate her.
"Whatever, Christian. There are a few other things we need to talk about. The aid has arrived in Rotterdam. Do you still want to go ahead?"
"Yes. Let's get it done. I made a commitment at the End Global Hunger launch. This needs to happen before I can face that committee again."
The fuckers only want this for the show. Feeding the world's poorest my ass. I bite back a snort. If we were truly committed to this, we wouldn't be stealing from their mines while paying them back not even 1% of what we get. We're keeping them hungry and I'm sick and tired of giving them scraps of food when we could given them the means to educate themselves so they can decide their own future. Better to keep them stupid with their bellies full occasionally than hungry and educated.
"Okay. I'm seeing Marco to discuss the Lucas Woods situation."
"Okay, let me know how that goes. Call me later."
"Will do. Bye for now."
I'm avoiding the inevitable. I know this. But I decide it would be better to tackle Miss Steele — via e-mail or phone, I haven't decided yet — on a full stomach, so I order dinner. While I'm waiting, there's a text from Andrea letting me know my drinks appointment is off. I'm fine with that. I'll see them tomorrow morning, provided I'm not groveling at Anastasia's feet.
There's a knock on the door — my luggage and room service have arrived simultaneously. The food smells delicious: fried green tomatoes and shrimp and grits. Well, I'm in the South, might as well eat like one.
While I'm eating, I think over my strategy to talk to her. I know for a fact she's at the dinner thrown by her mother's recent husband, Andrew Wilks, and that should be my opening. If I could just talk to her, make her see that I'm worth a few minutes. What the fuck am I saying? I hope she'll realize I'm worth more than just a few minutes. But how do I get her alone when Carla's gonna watch her like a hawk?
Fuck!
I dress in haste and barely glance in the mirror before I leave the suite with Taylor hot on my heels. It's almost 9 PM and I need to see her. In the back of my mind, I wonder how she'll react to seeing me here when she obviously wanted space to get her bearings. But I can't risk that she comes to the conclusion she never wants to see me again without at least seeing her in person for the last time. Her faithful dog is probably with her so I have another pair of eyes I need to be weary of.
"Sir, we're here." Taylor announces as he steps out and opens the door for me. "I'll be right behind you."
"Thanks, Taylor." I reply and do my best to reign in the nerves but I can hear the slight tremor in my voice at the thought of seeing her in a few moments.
It isn't long before I catch a glimpse of her lean figure and glossy dark hair. I dare say the dress is the exact same shade as her eyes. The long, lean feathery skirt is a stark contrast to the structure of the bodice and that décollteage is definitely drawing some eyes. She's beyond gorgeous, in spite of the showing track marks and scars on her wrists. Her make-up is dark and the moment her eyes meet mine, I feel like I'm glued to the floor.
I can't move.
Anastasia's looking at me and for a brief moment, I can almost swear I see some warmth. But I blink and whatever was there is gone. Her stare is blank and cold, raising goosebumps down my spine. I've never had this reaction, not even to Elena's looks. Do I disgust her? Is that it? Is the thought that I've been involved with Elena stronger than whatever we had before?
Luckily for me, Andrew comes to the rescue and demands her attention.
Shit! Did I just make a mistake by being here?
I rake a hand through my hair and see Carla glance my way. Fuck! The last thing I need is for Carla to drag my ass out before I get to talk to Anastasia. When I see that she's excusing herself from the trophy wives group, I grit my teeth and prepare myself to turn the other cheek if it means reaching my goal.
"Good evening, Mrs. Wilks." I say with a court nod as I look out for Anastasia. All I can see is her profile as some fucker ogles her shamelessly. My grip on the glass flute tightens.
Carla chuckles, bringing my attention back to her to find her smirking at me.
"I should have known Elena Lincoln wouldn't be enough to stand in your way."
I stare at her and wonder just how much she knew before Anastasia's visit and how much she knows now.
"I -"
"I'm not stupid, Christian Grey." Carla hisses, cutting me off before I've even managed to defend myself. "You're not here to honor my husband. You're here because a new piece of meat has been dangled in front of you. But you're not going to pursue her, are we clear? You're going to stay here as long as etiquette deems it fit. Then you're going to leave and not look back. Leave my daughter alone."
Her words stiffen my spine as my eyes narrow.
"Are you really threatening me, Mrs. Wilks?"
"Of course I am. Did you really think I'll be all over you, kissing your ass like all the other people here in this room? I bet they're all dying for a chance to shake your hand. The same hand that's been between Elena's legs, isn't it?"
Her words almost have me choke on the champagne but I do my best to swallow down the mouthful and offer her a thin lipped smile instead. She knows exactly what buttons to push.
She is, after all, Elena's friend. What did you expect, Grey?
"I want you away from my daughter, have I made myself clear? I won't have your presence here ruin this night with your dramatics."
"And if I don't follow your request?"
"If you don't follow my request, I'll keep her away from you all night so you'll be left watching her from afar the entire evening."
"We'll see about that." I murmur as I leave her and make my way to Anastasia. I've had enough of looking at her as she does her best to avoid Patrick Morton. Her body language is screaming at someone to save her from his presence.
Aren't you the knight in shiny armor...
"Mr. Morton, what a surprise to see you here!" I say with fake enthusiasm and narrowed eyes.
His back straightens instantly. The fucker.
"I don't see why you'd be so surprised, Grey. I'm Andrew's partner, after all. Your presence here is the real surprise." Morton says with an arctic voice, probably meant to tell me to fuck off. Too bad I don't give a shit about his opinion.
I step into Anastasia's line of vision and approach her.
"Miss Steele. A pleasure seeing you again." I take one of her hands and kiss each knuckle, making sure my lips feel the texture of her skin as well as her unique aroma. Just touching her eases the ache in my chest.
"Mr. Grey." My name leaves her lips like a soft whisper, like she's undecided whether to talk to me or not. She takes her hand back and makes a hasty retreat towards the ladies room. I signal Taylor to follow her while I finish things with Morton.
"You've seen the pictures, right?" I say with a sly smile.
The look on his face is fucking priceless.
"Fuck off, Grey. You're a long way from home."
"If I get my way, I'll be here sooner than you think. Either way, stay away from her."
"Or you'll what?"
"You don't want to know the answer to that, Morton. Consider yourself warned." I hiss as I step away from him and go to Anastasia. That fucker has another thing coming if he thinks he has any chances of getting close to her.
I don't know how we ended up on the floor of the bathroom, clinging to each other like we're trying to hold our heads above water. We're both a tangled mess of tears and clothes as she clings to me and I do my best to stay in the moment and not get lost in the memories.
I'm letting her in, whether she realizes or not. I've never let anyone touch me the way she is touching me right now. I'm letting her touch me – and I'm enjoying it – without thinking that I'm tolerating it just to get laid later. It's a big step for me but I can't focus on it right now.
The woman in my arms is crying and I'm positive she's doing it for me. It breaks whatever black heart is in my chest and it makes me hold onto her even tighter than before. She's so small and precious and wonderful. She stood up to Elena on my behalf, at a time when I thought the world of Elena and refused to see what was in front of me. She opened my eyes and gave me space to make up my own mind as to what I want to do with this knowledge.
She is caring and she is kind but she's also scarred. If it's something I've learned about Anastasia Steele is that she's a fighter and I vow, in this very moment, to be there for her no matter what. Because something deep down is telling me she'll be by my side no matter what.
Aren't you turning into a hearts and flowers kind of guy, Grey?
My feet are pounding the hot asphalt. Music is blasting in my ears. My heart is beating out of my chest. Sweat is dripping down my spine. I've got a good rhythm, I'm doing my best to keep going through the burn in my legs as I keep pushing myself over my limit.
Maybe if I keep pushing, I'll finally work all the emotions from last night away.
Truth is, I'm still replaying last night on a fucking loop.
One thing is certain, whether Miss Steele knows it or not, she's got me wrapped around her little finger.
And how is she supposed to know that, Grey? She's not a mind reader.
I lost control last night. Caught in the moment, in the emotions in her eyes, in her touch, in the way she clung to me like her life board. Or maybe it was the other way around. Fuck knows! I haven't cried like that in over 10 years and it's safe to say I've forgotten just how emotionally draining it could get. Maybe Flynn was onto something when he insisted on not keeping everything on tight control.
I lost control last night and it's something that seems to happen a lot around Anastasia.
She's under my skin, in my head and – dare I say? – in my heart. I feel like I just opened my eyes and found her in front of me, past all the bullshit and all the walls I've worked so hard to build. Like out of fucking nowhere, she hits me like a freight train, forcing me to open my eyes to the shit around me, forcing me to acknowledge her presence and influence.
Needless to say, I'm scared out of my wits.
Christian Grey doesn't do scared. Christian Grey doesn't do emotions.
Yet, here I am, doing all of the above and beyond.
What have you gotten yourself into, Grey?
This fucking tie is squeezing my neck and the jacket is making me feel like I'm melting. Maybe I should have ditched both but a simple shirt and jeans wouldn't be appropriate for lunch with Anastasia and the Wilks.
The golf club is filled with people wanting to show off their wealth or wives and I'm having a hard time finding their table. I'm already late as it is and I don't do late.
Carla's gonna bite my fucking head off, that's for sure.
"I apologize for being late." I say as I approach their table and admire Anastasia's slender neck. The thought of biting it appears out of nowhere, forcing a low guttural moan from my throat. I manage to hide it in the last minute possible as I clear my throat and give Carla a tight lipped smile. She's watching my like a hawk. I know I have no right to be pissed about her attitude towards me but I never said I was a fair bastard. Matter of fact, I'm as dirty as they come but that's none of her business. It was Anastasia's decision to talk to me yesterday and Carla can shove her opinion wherever she wants.
I can feel Anastasia's rigid body as I walk past her to kiss Carla's hand and shake Andrew's. I'm on edge. Doesn't she want me here? Did the last 12 hours make her change her mind about seeing me? Fuck! Fuck, fuck!
"Mr. Grey, I present you my step-daughter, Anastasia Rose Steele." Wilks says with a smile like he won the fucking lottery but the look on Anastasia's face when he says step-daughter almost has me laughing out loud. She looks like a pissed off kitten, poised to show just how much her claws can scratch.
All thoughts leave my head as she rises from her seat and I take a look at the Goddess in front of me. My breath is caught in my chest as I ogle her.
"Hello, Anastasia." I murmur, hoping it's loud enough because I really don't have more air than this.
"Hello, Christian." She replies, her voice so soft and melodic it jump starts my heart in combination with her hands on my forearms and her lips on both my cheeks. Her touch is scorching or maybe it's just me. I can't get enough of it. It brings be back to life each time it happens, better than the last time, making me crave the next time it happens.
So there's a next time now, Grey? Are you sure she wants a next time?
We take our seat and she's quick to peruse the menu and signal the waiter. Carla's glancing at her daughter with a funny look but she wisely keeps her thoughts to herself. I can't stop my mind from going back to their last conversation in Seattle. I'd give anything not to swap places with Carla anytime soon. Strangely, it doesn't put me off but it does intrigue me. As far as I've seen, Anastasia's is a woman of few words so to get that speech out of her, Carla must have pushed some buttons.
She mutters something about promptitude and I bite back a smile. It's a new side I'm seeing today and I'm hungry for each moment of it.
"Should I be thanking you for the quick service?" I whisper into her neck, hoping my proximity makes her as excited as I am.
"We should be thanking your tardiness for her cranky mood." Carla comments and Anastasia stiffens in her seat. Gone is the jovial girl from a moment ago. In her place, a cold look that would have chilled me to the bone. Carla's not backing down, though. "What? Have I said anything wrong?"
"I figured you'd have something to say about crankiness. You are after all, the queen of the mood, right?"
I don't miss the bitter edge to Anastasia's question and I swallow uneasily. It looks like the mother-daughter relationship going on here is not in the best of places right now. Then again, it hasn't been for a few years. Andrew seems oblivious, though. The poor fucker's too down the drain to see Carla as anything else other than the perfect woman.
My hand finds hers under the table and I squeeze it lightly.
Now is not the time, Anastasia.
"How about we order since we're all here now?" Wilks says, always willing to ease the tension that's rising around the table.
"How about no?" Anastasia replies so soft I'm sure no one heard her.
I squeeze her hand once again in warning, tighter this time.
"I'll have the salmon on herbs."
Thank Christ! It looks like we're gonna survive this Cold War.
We soon order and I find myself playing with the flowers on Anastasia's strap as Wilks does his best to dig deeper in my head. Poor fucker doesn't know the shit that lies underneath.
"So, Christian, how does it feel to join the big league? Ten billion dollars is not something one gets overnight."
You bet your sweet ass it didn't come overnight.
"I haven't taken the time to stop and enjoy it. It's a long and hard way up but you can always land on your ass sooner than you can spell your name. Money comes and goes but passion is what needs to drive you."
"And passion is something that you definitely have." Wilks says, a genuine smile on his face. "What about you, Anastasia?"
I watch with the corner of my eye as she shrugs and sips on her lemonade, taking her time.
"I want to buy a publishing company but it's nothing official yet."
Andrew nods.
"That's good. Keep yourself occupied until you go back to the UK."
My body turns rigid and Anastasia's eyes narrow.
"Who said anything about going back?"
The tone of her voice has Andrew gulping.
"Well... I supposed... you've finished college and..." He trails off but she's not helping him finish the sentence. The silence is deafening. Luckily, Carla jumps into the conversation, saving her husband of any future embarrassment.
"Anastasia's a very versatile young woman. She's recently gotten into literature but her eyes have always been on business. She can do whatever she likes, wherever she likes."
Conversation continues to flow but his voice keeps going round through my head. Until you go back. Will Anastasia decide to go back to Stephen and pick up right where she left off, including with Nicholas? The green eyed monster within me tests its restraints.
That's not something we're going to allow. Right, Grey?
As soon as it is socially acceptable to leave the table, I decide I've had enough of sharing Anastasia and take her away on a stroll down the gold courses. Many fuckers are ogling her bare feet in the short grass but I have an arm around her waist and a glare to match. That should settle whatever pissing contest they wanna have.
"So... publishing, huh?" I ask, hoping to strike a conversation and pull her out of her thoughts.
It works but not the way I wanted to. I'm starting to realize it's gonna take a lot of effort to steer Anastasia away when she puts her mind to something.
"That's not why you're here, Christian." She whispers, probably aware that the conversation we're going to have is going to be tough and strained.
No matter how much I want to pretend, I know why I'm here and I know I'm walking a very fucking tight rope. I swallow nervously as I think back to that recording. My hands are sweating.
"Yeah... I got your e-mail and package." I whisper and make myself look into her eyes.
Now is that time for sincerity, Grey.
"I'm sorry you had to find out like that."
I look at her, hoping to convey all the shame and remorse I'm feeling right now. Another first, Grey.
"You're not sorry I found out." She says with a small voice but her eyes are filled with emotion. My throat has a lump in it even though I try my best to swallow past it.
"No, Anastasia. I'm not."
Truer words haven't been spoken.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"I didn't know how. It was hard to make the decision once it was clear you would never be my submissive. If you could have been..." I would have fucked your brains out after our chance meeting at the café. I add silently as I gaze into her eyes. I would have bulldozed through whatever belief she had. I would have pushed and pulled until I got what I wanted: her body and her submission.
"You would have presented me with a NDA."
Oddly enough, the thought that I could have done it doesn't do anything to me.
"Yes. From there on, it would have been simple." But nothing worth getting is ever simple. I've learned that in the business world and now it looks like the same logic applies in my personal life. "Seeing you in the café changed all of that. I realized I could never ask you to... submit to me. The idea of seeing you tied up... almost made me gag. I was curious and then you came and threw those photos on my desk. I knew, in that moment, that everything I would ever do was to protect you. To make sure something like that never happened to you ever again. Whatever the price." The thought of her at anyone's mercy, even mine, makes my stomach rise in my throat. "You have to believe me, Anastasia. I would never do that to you. I wouldn't do it even if I wouldn't have witnessed your panic attacks."
My words touch a string inside her and it's not long before I have her in my arms, devouring every inch of her sweet mouth. I can't get enough of her but I can't let this go on in public unless we want to risk some indecent exposure.
But as soon as we break away, I watch as she puts distance between us and steels herself for what's about to come. Her eyes lose their spark and her once flushed skin is now pale under the sun.
"We shouldn't be doing this."
Something in her voice makes me take a step towards her but she only pulls away even further.
"Hey, it's OK. No one saw us." I try to assure her but she shakes her head slightly and a bitter smile settles on her plump lips.
"It's not about that." She replies as she looks me with a detachment that wasn't there a moment ago. She's pulling away and I can only wait and hold my breath. "I will not cross that line, no matter how much I'd like to."
"What? What do you mean? What line?"
Don't tell me I've missed whatever shot I got at having something with this woman. I wouldn't be able to accept that shit. Not now that I've found... something. No. I can't let it happen.
"I like you, Christian. I like you a lot. But if you can't respond to my feelings, this isn't going to end well."
There you go, Grey! It's always down to the more you can't give.
I grit my teeth and clench my fists. It's true. I don't do more but the old game is boring and the thought of not seeing this incredible woman is doing something to my insides.
"I can try. I'm attracted to you, Anastasia. Don't doubt that."
Anastasia's eyes close as she shakes her head no. What is she saying no to? To the fact that I'm attracted to her or to the fact that I want to try? Doesn't she feel the same? Doesn't she want the same? Have I read this all wrong?
"How many were there?"
My fucking heart stops beating. What is she asking me?
"How many subs have you had?"
Shit!
Think fast, Grey. Say something, don't just sit here like an idiot!
"Anastasia, that –"
"No. The only answer I'm willing to listen to is the one to my question. How. Many?"
"Fifteen." Even I can hear the resignation in my voice. There it is: the number that will push her away from me. My walls raise once again and I shut down whatever emotion could touch me.
"I see. When did the last... relationship end?"
You really wanna do this, Grey? You really wanna show her how fucked-up you really are? You really wanna show her what Elena has accomplished?
I owe her that much.
"Almost three months ago." I find myself answering in spite of the voice inside my head.
"Why did it end?"
Just stop speaking, Grey! Stop digging your own fucking grave!
"She wanted more."
"Was this the usual reason?"
Her hollow voice makes my chest hurt but I can't stop now. I shouldn't. She should know. She should know so she stays away.
"Yes."
Anastasia's silence is deafening. For the first time in my life, I feel the need to fill it with something.
Begging would be another first for you, Grey.
"I never wanted to try before, Anastasia. I'm willing to try now. With you."
"Why? What makes me so different?"
Good question, Miss Steele.
"I don't know. It just does."
"Christian... I can't do this. I can't do this if you're not sure. I can't... just sit and wait for you to figure it out and pray to all heavens that in the end you'll want me. I've barely met you and everything that has happened should make me want to run away and never look back. But I'm weak so I stayed. But I'm not stupid enough to believe that I have some sort of special ability to get you out of your darkness. That's something you have to do by yourself."
I'm in awe of this woman.
"That's not it. That's not my intention." I rush to assure her but I think we both know it's futile at this point. I can see it in her body language that she's made-up her mind. I should admire that. I should admire her strength and the fact that she was willing to listen to me. I should be grateful that she didn't spit in my face last night.
However, all I can think about is the fact that I've missed something with her. For a moment there, I had the chance in my hands. The chance to tell her the truth and show her that I'm worthy of her time and energy.
But she's right.
I have spent so much of my lifetime chasing the wrong goals in my personal life. I've wasted so much time on the wrong path and now that I find myself in front of the right one, if I'm being honest with myself, I have no idea what to do.
"Really? Isn't that why you had so many women in your bed to begin with? To make it all go away and regain control over your life? Because that's the only way I can see it. That's the only thing that could make sense to me. You've had fifteen chances to open your eyes and many other chances to tell me the truth. You've ignored all of them."
"Anastasia -"
"I like you, Christian. A lot. I'm attracted to you. I'm not going to deny it or lie about it. But I'm not going to be your crutch because that would mean our end before we would even begin. If you really want this, you have to meet me half way."
The fact that I don't know what that means is enough reason to keep my mouth shut.
"You doubt me." I whisper, saying it more for myself than for this conversation.
"With your track record, it would be stupid not to."
Right again, Miss Steele.
I ignore the voice inside my head and push for more. It's a soft limit. I can feel it. I can push her until she sees that we could be good together. I've been honest with her. I'll never lie to her again and I'll do my fucking best to get better and be better. For her, I feel like I could climb the fucking Everest.
"But you'll give me a chance to prove that I can -"
"I'll give you time to heal." She says, cutting me off. "There's nothing to prove, Christian. I want what's best for you and, right now, I'm not what's best for you. I would only be a distraction."
No!
"How do you know that? How can you know what's going on inside me?"
"Because I've been there!" She screams and grips the tips of her hair. "I've been where you are. I've tried everything to make it go away. I did drugs. I drank. Not enough to get drunk each time but enough to numb the feelings inside. I got myself wrapped up in the idea that love can save me but only ended up hurting the other person. I've hurt myself."
Her words knock the wind from my lungs. What!? She hurt herself? What the fuck?
"So, you see, we're not that different, you and I. We both had our distractions. But they will never lead to anything good. I can vouch for that."
There's a sadness coating each word that leaves her lips and it makes me ache a in a new way. Here she is, willing to give me time to get my shit together because she knows that's important and I'm throwing it in her face like I know any fucking better.
"How is this going to work?"
Is this going to work?
"I'm not going to disappear, Christian. I'm going to be one call away. Always. But this is your path. Do you agree with me?"
Flynn's words echo through my head. To make her yours, you have many mountains to conquer with yourself first and foremost. I nod and watch with a sad smile as she steps closer. Her arms around me keep me grounded and bring me back from the edge of the fucking cliff.
"You can do this, Christian." She whispers in my chest and all I can do is stay still and enjoy her warmth.
It's late but it should be early enough across the ocean. I dial the numbers from the sheet of paper and listen as the phone rings once, twice. Her raspy voice mumbles a low hello.
"I got your message." I say and pinch the bridge of my nose.
I can't believe I'm really doing this.
"It took you long enough, Mr. Grey." She replies with a smile in her voice.
Anyone care to guess who it could be?
