Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the plot for this story.

Chapter 10

Christian's POV

The whole week passes faster than I would like, and I wait every day on the seventeenth floor for Anastasia during lunchtime. She never shows up. Every night, I wake up screaming, the nightmares more intense than ever. I then play the piano and go back to bed, imagining that Anastasia is next to me.

I don't understand. Have I done something wrong? I frostily run my hands through my hair. It's Friday and I'm in the Employee Lounge once again. No one's here and I can't stop thinking about her-her intoxicating smell, her walk, and her smile. It's driving me crazy that she could quit this job any moment. I grunt in frustration and slam my fist against the window, closing my eyes. I need to schedule another appointment with Flynn.

I dial his number and wait as the phone rings. My eyes are still closed when he picks up.

"Christian?" His unintentionally haughty British accent irks me.

"Flynn." I regard him coldly. There's a brief silence.

"What can I do for you?" He asks calmly. I'm on fire and this fucker wants to play cool? Easy, Grey. He's trying to help. The sensible part of me whispers and I take a deep lungful of air.

"I need to schedule an appointment." I say through clenched teeth. He seems to sense my irritation and replies with dry humor.

"Can't wait to see me again, eh? Well, I'm afraid you'll have to. I'm out of town currently, but I'll be back on… Monday." He pauses before saying the day. "How does 6 o'clock sound?"

"Fine." I hiss and he pauses before murmuring good-bye and hangs up. I clench my knuckles around my phone and glance over at the sofa where she was sitting days ago. A sudden thought strikes me.

"Andrea." I bark viciously into the phone.

"Yes Mr. Grey?" She responds immediately.

"I need my collection of first edition books wrapped up and a simple card delivered to my office right away. Call Gail and arrange for them to be transported from my apartment." I fire out instructions and I hear furious scribbling.

"Yes, sir. Right away."

I hang up and unconsciously run my hands through my hair. My phone rings again and I growl as I pick up.

"Grey." I snarl.

"Whoa, easy there, bro, it's just me." Regardless of the situation, I smile grimly at the unfamiliar voice.

"What is it, Elliot?" I ask, only slightly irritated.

"I was just lounging around, wondering about how my baby bro is doing and-"

"Cut the bullshit bro." I respond sarcastically. He huffs into the phone.

"Fine. I'm in your apartment right now and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight."

I stiffen immediately. The fuck? "Well, seeing as you're in my apartment already, how can I refuse?" I say. He chuckles wryly.

"Good point. I got us reservations at The Pink Door." He says.

I groan inaudibly and decide to be brutally honest. "Right. Who are you trying to escape now, Elliot?"

There's a pregnant pause. "Um, this really clingy girl I met the other night. I thought it would be a one-night stand kind of thing and it uh, didn't turn out that way." He says. I can practically see him now, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Fine." I sigh. "The Pink Door. We'll drive down after I finish work."

"Cool. Hey, I hope you don't mind, but I'm wearing a pair of your sweatpants. They're a bit too tight, but I don't think Miss Jones minds."

"Fuck you, Elliot." I exclaim, exasperated by his openness.

He laughs and responds. "Sorry baby bro, not really my style. Laters."

"Laters, Lelliot." I tease, hanging up. I'm actually smiling despite myself and I run my hand across my chin. Hmm, I really need a shave.

Elliot and I are seated across from each other at The Pink Door. He's jabbering about Mia's latest obsession when the door opens. I get a strong whiff of apples and vanilla and blanch. She's here.

I see her out of the corner of my eye and my stomach plunges. I'm horrified and mesmerized at what she's wearing and my friend downstairs twitches, confused at the mix of emotions.

A royal blue club dress, flattering, but too short. I can feel my demeanor harden. If she's going to be mine, I will not allow her to wear something like that without me by her side. My anger flares when I see that she is hanging on to the notorious Ethan Kavanagh. I want to take her across my knee. Right fucking now. They all step to their table and Elliot whistles appreciatively, jerking me out of my sadistic thoughts.

I glare at him, thinking he's checking out Anastasia. Back off Lelliot. She's mine. The waiter is talking to them and Ethan orders them a bottle of wine. I stiffen when a Hispanic guy covers Anastasia's eyes and whispers in her ear. She responds with a squeal and leaps into his arms. Fuck no.

I stab the garlic bread on my plate aggressively with my knife. I look up to find Elliot watching me, amused. I raise an eyebrow at him. The same waiter approaches our table and I struggle to maintain my airy composure.

"Your entrées are on their way sir. Anything else I can get you in the meantime?" He asks politely.

"Yes, a bottle of Corbiéres. That will be all for now." The waiter nods and scurries away, only to be called by Ethan Kavanagh.

I look back at Elliot. He's staring at Katherine Kavanagh. "Whoa, look at that ass." He nudges me under the table. I shift uncomfortably, embarrassed that I thought he was checking Anastasia out.

He notices my expression and laughs loudly. I observe that my brother is somehow more comfortable around me than I am with him. He doesn't have demons. I remind myself.

I stiffen as I see Anastasia smile charmingly at the Hispanic and roll her eyes at him. He grins back at her infatuatedly. I see how it is. He wants into her pants. I don't blame him. I think longingly about her pale legs and sumptuous body and my pants tent. I shift awkwardly as Elliot blabs on about the Mariners.

Our waiter arrives with our food and we tuck in, though my interest is peaked by Anastasia. I look over and see that their food's already arrived. She's eating. Holy fuck. I stare at her voluminous lips as she pauses and whispers to Katherine Kavanagh then nods in my direction. Ah so she knows I'm here. I see her surprised face as she notices I'm looking. Then, she smiles in her bashful, innocent way. Fuck, fuck, fuck! The tent in my pants is noticeable and I cross my legs and think of anything but big blue eyes. I even try to listen to Elliot's nonsense.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Katherine Kavanagh turn her head towards me. She pales and I smirk, wondering with all my blackened heart what they're whispering about.

Then, I see Ana put down her cutlery and a frown develops on my face. Elliot stops talking for once and glances at where I'm looking. Anastasia stands up and hurries out, not giving me a second glance. I'm appalled.

What the fuck? Huh? Did I do something? Was I too intense?

I watch intently as Katherine runs after her followed by the Hispanic. Ethan Kavanagh places a wad of cash on the cluttered table and rushes out, too.

I watch out of our window as they crowd into a Black Mercedes. The engine turns on and it stays still for awhile. Fuck, I can't see her! Suddenly, it pulls out of the parking lot across the street and I catch a glimpse of it heading further down. It takes a right and disappears from my sight.

Elliot tsks at the window and turns back to me. He stabs at his spaghetti and takes a bite. Swallowing, he sips his wine and gives me a curious look. "Damn. That blonde left. I wonder what happened?"

Me too, Lelliot. Me too.

"Excuse me a moment." I murmur and get up, throwing my napkin on the table. I head to the restroom and lock the door and get out my phone. I dial a number and am immediately rewarded when he picks up on the first ring.

"Taylor. Find me the whereabouts of Anastasia Steele. I expect a full report emailed to me in an hour. Do what you have to do." I snap.

"Yes sir."

I hang up and run my hands through my hair then exit the bathroom, trying to seem calm. Elliot looks up at me as I sit down. He has a shit-eating smirk on his face. I am not in the mood for this. "What?" I snap. Elliot raises his eyebrows at me, his smirk still present.

"Come on bro. Let's go home and work out or something. You clearly need a break." He remarks. Inwardly, I sigh with relief. How the hell does this fucker know me so well? I nod and ask for the check.

Elliot drives us back to Escala and we lounge around, chatting and catching replays of the Mariners game.

I have my cellphone by my side and immediately look as it pings. Elliot's too engrossed in the game to care. I read over the file. So. She's out clubbing, eh? I reluctantly put my phone down and try to concentrate on the game.

Anastasia obviously stormed out because of me. Did Katherine Kavanagh tell her who I was? Well, shit, Grey. You fucked up, big time. I sigh heavily and decide to let her go. I am not the man for her. She doesn't deserve this.

You don't deserve her. I correct myself.

"HELL YEAH!" yells Elliot, cheering at the screen. I grin at his enthusiasm and relax. Maybe I should give him a chance. The guy's not too bad after all.

An hour passes, and then two and I see that Anastasia is still out. I'm worried, but I chide myself for thinking about her. Elliot has put on some crap action movie and we're watching together. He's stuffing popcorn down his face, which he made himself. Gail is out for the weekend, visiting her sister. I'm about to reach over and grab some when my phone rings.

The fuck? Who'd be calling me this late? Thinking it's Ros, I grab the phone and snap at it. "Grey."

"H-h-hello Christian." I hear throbbing music in the background and a slurred musical voice followed by a hiccup and a giggle.

Holy shit. It's her.

Anastasia Steele has drunk dialed me.

:o What'll happen next? I hope you all are enjoying this story as much as I am! ~ HA