Chap. 10 Friends!

APOV

His chiseled mouth in front of my eyes startles me. Where am I? Who is this? Ugh, my head. Oh yes, the penthouse-nest… Christian… wine, a lot of wine.

How come do we end up like this? We are sharing a cushion, our legs opposite sides and facing each other, eyes to mouths. At least not awkward touching, although his hand is gently placed in the back of my head, tangled in my hair. His warm hand feels good.

He really has a lovely face, and he looks so young and relaxed right now. If it's possible, he is more beautiful like this, without the worries that are always all over his face. I take my time to memorize his features this untroubled.

The light is filling the room, and I feel the urge to go the bathroom. I try to move but he stiffens, caresses my head, and gets closer to my face to take a deep breath. It was just a few seconds but he instantly relaxed and went back to the previous position. Right, he said I smell good. Do I smell that good? This man constantly makes these creepy things that somehow, because it's him, I don't mind.

But as good as I smell, and as relaxed as he is, I need to go, like NOW. I take his hand out of my hair as tenderly as I can and place it onto the cushion while I stand up. I go to the bathroom I saw yesterday in the laundry room. I'm sure there is a fancy guest bathroom somewhere, but I'm not in the mood of getting into huge closets and finding his skeletons while searching for it.

I wash my hands and take a look at my face in the mirror. Jeez, I look like shit. How come he looks that good? Not fair. I do my best with my hair and wash my face, but the wrinkles on my shirt make me look like if I was stuffed in a small envelope.

Flashes from last night hit me, and I watch myself blushing crimson red as I remember telling him about my troubled past, and my troubled present. Oh God, no. Embarrassment and shame wash over me. I know I was just a victim, but I can't help it. Why did I do that? He asked, and you drank a lot of wine. I seriously need to stop drinking like that, three times and every time a different drama.

I head to the living room to grab my purse, my jacket and go home. I'm not worried about him anymore, I'm worried about myself. Shit, why did I have to tell him?

He's sat in the middle of the 'nest' with a confused look. Then he sees me, beams at me, and I melt because I realize he likes having me here. "Anastasia, where did you go? I thought it was a dream."

"Good morning, Christian."

"Good morning. How do you feel?" He's worrying again.

"I have a headache, but I'll be fine."

He stands up quickly and brings me an aspirin and a glass of water from the kitchen. I sit on his huge black sofa to drink my water and he sits next to me.

"Thank you for yesterday Anastasia, I know what you did."

"Did it work?"

He smiles shyly. "Yes."

"Good. I'll go home to get ready for work."

He looks worried again. "You need to eat. Let's have breakfast first."

In the kitchen, I sit on one barstool watching him as he makes his coffee and two ham & cheese sandwiches. The water is boiling for my tea and he gets orange juice out of the fridge. He places everything in front of me. "Eat." God, he is so bossy.

I eat slowly and in silence, my headache almost gone. I can't look at him after what I revealed, I don't feel comfortable now that he knows. Maybe later the embarrassment will fade.

I finish and he shoots. "What is it, Anastasia?"

"Nothing, I'm tired." I better go.

"What's wrong? Tell me, we promised to be honest."

"You said that. I never did." He looks hurt and I can't stand it. I stare at my plate.

"Last night I blurted out far too much. I'm so mad at myself. That's too personal, just Kate knows and it took me two years to tell her… I just want to be alone right now."

He runs his long fingers through his disorderly hair and sighs.

"Anastasia, I think you know that much about me too."

"It's not the same. Your private life is not private anymore, but that's about something you chose to do."

Mm, the pedophile. "And regarding your 'friend'," I make the double quotation marks on the air, "even though she is a criminal, you don't see anything wrong about her." The twitch in his eyebrow doesn't go unnoticed. I stare at my plate again.

"You are right." I look at him in surprise.

"What about I share something that big with you, so we are even?" He's gazing into my eyes.

"I'm not sure Christian. Maybe you will feel like me afterward."

"Maybe, but if that puts your mind at ease with me knowing, then it's worth it." It could work, I nod at him. The truth is I'm curious.

He starts unbuttoning his shirt and I don't know what to think. Okay, he works out. What else? "Do you see these marks on my chest?"

I notice he has a few random and faint small, round scars dotted around his chest. What are they?

"Cigarette burns." How? What happened to him?

"My birth mother was a crack whore. Her pimp did this to me when I was a toddler." I'm in shock, I don't know what to say or what to do. Why are out there people that gets pleasure torturing, causing so much pain? How can someone do that to a small kid? Surely a sweet, beautiful, vulnerable kid. The nightmares.

"Your nightmares!" I whisper in horror.

"Yes. But as you said last night, they didn't just hurt us, but took something from us." I look at him, feeling so sad all of a sudden. His words from last night echoing in my brain: 'we are so alike'.

"I can't bear to be touched Anastasia, my chest or my back. Not even my family."

"What do you mean?"

"If someone touches my chest or my back, it burns like fire, I could have a panic attack. It's unbearable."

"Oh." I raise my hand without thinking and his eyes widen. He starts buttoning up his shirt, my daring hand back to my lap.

"What do you do when your girlfriend wants to touch you?"

"No girlfriends, just submissives. I always restrain their hands, that's acceptable and expected on a BDSM scene."

"So you are in control and make sure no woman touches you when having sex, which at the same time is a coping mechanism to deal with your anxiety?"

He cocks his head to one side. "Mjm. That's a way to put it."

I don't buy it, there is a lot more in that equation. On the other hand, I don't like the idea of someone in control of me. I know I have played with the idea in my mind but very superficially, I need to know more. Sex is always an incomplete puzzle for me, any piece is welcomed.

"I want to see your room."

"What?"

"The room Susanne mentioned. Is it here in this penthouse?" He's utterly surprised. Suddenly he narrows his eyes.

"Are you curious Anastasia?" I blush.

"Yes."

"That's not for you."

"You don't know that." I'm getting angry. Am I that obvious? He doesn't know me that well.

"Believe me, I know." His sly chuckle offends me.

"I should go and talk with her, maybe she'll think differently and will give me some advice."

"Is that a joke?" His voice is menacingly soft.

"No." I snap exasperated.

"See, always challenging Anastasia, questioning everything. You would never make a submissive." He runs his hand through his hair.

"You make that seems like a handicap. Perhaps I'm the other thing… eh…"

"What?"

"What you are. What are you?" He chuckles again.

"A dominant?"

"Yes, that."

"You aren't that either."

I sigh and stare at my hands. "Bit of a foregone conclusion, wasn't I?" He knows what he is talking about. I don't even have a clue.

He stands up and grabs my hand dragging me out of the kitchen. We go up to the second floor and turn right. Producing a key from his pocket, he unlocks the door in front of us and stands back to let me in. "My playroom." Playroom? That's how he calls it? I look at him, my eyes wide open. He gets the impassive look, the mask. I summon all the courage I can and get in.

The first thing that hits me is the smell, so particular, so unique. The light is soft and I can't figure out what is in front of me so I step forward. Holy cow. This is a huge room and every single thing inside it goes beyond my imagination, even the huge bed is not an ordinary one.

I look around and realize that this room is not like the rest of the apartment, is not like his office, it's exactly the opposite. Here I can see Christian so clearly. The walls dark red, the wood furniture rustic and stylish, the lighting artfully arranged, everything setting a very special atmosphere. Full of color, full of sensation. I turn around and Christian is leaning against the door, crossed arms, regarding me intently. When did he close it?

I walk toward him and he opens his eyes warily. "Christian, why are you hiding?"

"What do you mean?"

"This, all this," I point around us. "So much intensity."

"I don't understand."

I shake my head, he doesn't have a clue. I walk to the center of the room and observe the ceiling, the karabiners, the gleaming chains, and handcuffs. Right, the handcuffs. There are handcuffs everywhere, as he said to restrain the hands is important for his scenes.

And he's right, I don't belong here. There is no way someone will chain me to anything, there is no way someone will use a whip on me, the thought itself makes me uncomfortable. I wouldn't surrender like this to someone just for sex, not even if he looks like a God. I snort inside my head. Well, doubt solved.

But I have an ulterior motive, this's so inspiring for a writer's mind. Such a beautiful scenario for drama and romance, rough romance. Jeez, I'd like to sit here for hours with my laptop.

I lean on one of the four posts of the bed imagining my main feminine character here, wanting to please the man she loves against her own will, longing for his acceptance, neglecting her own dreams. Oh yes, she will turn the situation around and will be in charge of her own sexuality enjoying this, the playroom? No, I don't like that name. The chamber of lust, sex alcove…

"Anastasia… Anastasia."

"Oh, dear God, I'm sorry."

He is smirking at me. "I can't believe you find inspiration here."

"Mm… why not? Another thing you know I can't do?"

"That's not what I meant. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you were right. This is not for me, but it's so beautiful and romantic in here, in a certain way. And yes, I got inspired."

His brow furrows with incomprehension. "Romantic?"

"Yes Christian, you got caught. I now know your dirtiest secret, hidden in your dirtiest room. You're a romantic."

"I've never been accused of that before." His tone is one of wry amusement.

"Now you have. Don't worry, my lips are sealed."

"You are so wrong, Anastasia. I don't do romance at any level." He sighs in disregard.

"Because you've never given that a chance for some reason, but look around Christian. It's totally expressed here, I can read it everywhere. God! You almost tricked me with the rest of the penthouse and your office. Although I saw a hint of your true self in your office."

"It's just a painting."

"Oh, no Christian, I'm not trying to convince you. I know, I'm sure. I think I always knew but I didn't have proof. Now I have."

He grabs my hand and takes me to the door. "Let's go back to the kitchen. Jesus, you really can be exasperating."

I try to hide my smile and silently say goodbye to the... passion room? forbidden room? I need to work on that.

In the kitchen he sits in front of me, studying my face.

"Would you like some tea, now that you are in a better mood?"

"Yes please." I blush at his intense gaze.

"You are such a mystery, Anastasia. So shy and at the same time so bold, you have such a strong moral code and at the same time you are so open-minded, you are so young and inexperienced and at the same time so mature." He stands and sets the electric kettle.

"You too."

He turns around placing my teacup. "Me too, what?"

"Well, you are so formal… and controlled… and stuffy."

"Stuffy?"

"Slightly stuffy. And yet you let me make a mess of your living room."

"Mm, rummaging around my kitchen, making a mess of my living room. Feel free to do what you want here Anastasia, I'm always happy with the result." He smiles widely. "I really enjoyed your class of astronomy, I might have learned a couple of things."

I beam at him. "Really? I thought you were bored."

"Bored? Not at all. I'm even changing the position of my bed so I can sleep facing the stars." He pours the hot water in my teacup and I prepare my tea while he gets a cup of coffee and sits in front of me again.

"Don't you have an empire to run?"

"I told you we'd have a free morning." Hm, the CEO that works 24/7 is having a free school-day morning. The song comes instantly to my mind and I close my eyes to start singing the first verse for Christian.

"Lately I've been, I've been losing sleep
Dreaming about the things that we could be
But, Christian I've been, I've been praying hard
Said no more counting dollars, we'll be counting stars
Yeah, we'll be counting stars."

I open my eyes and smile shyly at him. He's serious, so serious. Jeez, do I sing that bad? But suddenly a broad smile changes his face, looking so young and carefree, almost like when he was asleep.

He finishes his coffee quickly. "Wait here for me, please Anastasia, I need your help with something." With that, he disappears inside his enormous penthouse.

I start organizing everything from last night and this morning in the dishwasher when Taylor appears in front of me, very nervous.

"Good Morning Taylor."

"Miss Steele good morning. Where is Mr. Grey?"

"I'm not sure, he told me to wait here."

Taylor disappears too and less than one minute later I heard the double doors to the foyer opening, a sleek platinum blonde dressed in black enters. She must be in her forties, tall, tanned, and beautiful. I don't like her conceited and arrogant facial expression, though.

She blinks in confusion when she sees me, approaches the kitchen island and sits on the bar stool at the end, obviously familiarized with the place. She starts studying me and I feel self-conscious all of a sudden, I remember I look like shit.

"Hello dear, I'd like a cup of coffee, black." I hated her immediately, awful woman.

"Good morning Ma'am, I'm sorry but I don't know how to use the coffee machine. I'm sure Christian will be here any moment." She opens her mouth in surprise.

"How dare you call him by his given name?" She is fuming. Why is that an issue? I think I know who she is, the predator. Mm, but maybe is just family or he has some business meeting.

"I don't know what…"

"Elena." Suddenly Christian shows up with Taylor interrupting me. He's wearing a bathrobe, his hair soaking wet. Evidently he doesn't want me alone with her, Taylor told him she was on her way up and he got out of the shower that second. Now I'm sure who she is, but I'm not sure how to feel about that, I care enough for Christian to feel abhorrence of her. Was he afraid of my reaction? She was the one being impolite and rude.

"Good morning Christian." She kisses both his cheeks, her hands resting on his upper arms. I suppress my revulsion. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company, it's Wednesday. Your PA told me you didn't show up at the office, and I worried." I don't understand what she is talking about, but I'm absorbing every piece of information. He's supposed to be alone on Wednesdays, and she was genuinely surprised that I used his first name.

"Elena, this is Miss Steele, she works for me. Miss Steele, Elena Lincoln, a business partner." He is very serious, his mask back on. And I feel wounded even though he's right, I work for him.

Wearing a disgusting sphinx smile she protests Christian's introduction. "Oh, come on Christian, I think I'm more than that. Nice to meet you, Miss Steele." She's not even looking at me while saying that. Awful woman.

I can't stand this, I'm completely revolted at the sight of her. In silence, I close the dishwasher and walk to the sofa for my purse and my jacket. While passing next to Christian I said in the most deadpan tone I'm capable of, "Your friend wants a coffee, black." Now he knows that I know, that I don't buy his bullshit. "I'm leaving now, I have work to do."

"Anastasia, can you give me 10 minutes?" Oh, I'm Anastasia again. You can go to hell.

"I'm sorry Mr. Grey, I really have work to do." I glare at him emphasizing the word work.

"Your employee is really impolite." God, give me patience.

I turn my back to them, so they can't see me, and in my mind count to 10 with my eyes closed. After that I feel more poised, that bitch is not my problem.

"Yeah, must be that. Goodbye."

I walk quickly to the foyer and hear an irritated Christian.

"Taylor, escort Mrs. Lincoln to my office." I guess he's finishing his shower before facing her.

I call the elevator trying to compose myself. That was hard to witness, the familiarity of that predator inside his space, her rudeness toward me, his cold way to introduce me to her. I feel nauseated, the headache threatening to come back.

Christian hands startle me and I gasp. Grabbing my shoulders he turns me around so I'm facing him now. I didn't hear him coming. He moves like a ghost.

"Why are you leaving?"

"You know why."

"Please Anastasia, just give me 10 minutes."

"I think you will need a little more than that." I see his hurt semblance and instantly regret my words, but I'm angry and confused because I'm not sure I have the right to be angry.

"I didn't invite her here… Look, I can't force you. At least let Taylor drive you." I know he didn't invite her, but he needs to set clear limits to that woman.

"Okay. Go and dry your hair first or you will get sick. I'll wait for Taylor here. God, I need a shower too." I don't want to add more to his distress, and I know he will relax if I accept something.

"Take a shower here." What?

"Are you insane?" Yes, he is.

"You have clean clothes in the room where you slept last Saturday, I forgot to tell you."

"Why do you have clean clothes for me?" My eyes widen in disbelieve.

"Because I can." His eyes flash with amusement. I fight the urge to roll my eyes skywards.

"So what?"

"Come on Anastasia, I really, really need your help with something. Take a shower here while I dismiss Elena, it's almost ten o'clock, we'll lose the morning if you leave now." Oh, he's saying that on purpose to please me. Is he sincere?

"I'd never lie to you, Anastasia." Dear God, his ability to answer my unspoken questions is startling. "No, you don't lie, you omit." I look at him defiant; he can't deny that, he does that all the time. He narrows his eyes, I know he's not used to being challenged.

He runs his long fingers through his wet hair and then offers me one hand. At the same time the elevator doors open, I'm at a crossroad. You are being ridiculously overdramatic. I take his hand, is what I want to do. "Okay, but I don't want to see that awful woman again or I won't speak to you in a month."

"Fair enough. I'll take you to your bedroom to make sure there aren't any accidents, I can't risk a month without hearing your exasperating voice." I'm smiling, my exasperating voice is something he esteems. Wait, did he say my bedroom?

…

…

CPOV

Okay, one crisis averted. I quickly dry my hair and get dressed before going to my office. What the hell is Elena doing here?

She is already sat, watching at her scarlet fingernails. I dismiss Taylor with a nod and sit behind my desk to keep the distance. Her faked smile doesn't trick me, I know there is something bothering her.

"What are you doing here Elena."

"Oh Christian, is that a way to receive your friends? I was worry about you." She purrs.

"Well as you can see I'm fine. Now I need you to go, I have important things to attend."

"Like that girl?"

"That's none of your business." She straightens her back.

"Christian. I'm here to talk about Susanne."

"What about her?"

"I'm deeply sorry for what happened. She called me last Sunday and I told her I'd call back, but I forgot. I didn't know what she was planning to do."

"Is already done, I'm dealing with that."

"I don't want to lose your trust, your confidence on my skills. I assure you something like that won't happen again. I know it was me who sent you Susanne's profile, and I take full responsibility." She is waiting for my answer.

"I'll take into consideration your words before reaching to any conclusion, and I appreciate you coming here to apologize. Now I need you to go, I meant what I said." I really need her to leave before Anastasia is ready. She narrows her eyes studying me.

"Who sent you that girl? She is your type but she doesn't act properly. She's not good for you Christian, you should be more careful." What the hell?

"Like you were with Susanne, Elena?" She looks contrite. "I won't repeat myself, I need you to go now, and next time you want to talk with me, call first."

"Fine, I'm leaving." A feeling of relief washes over me. I'm surprised by this feeling every time we say goodbye, sometimes I think my body rejects Elena on a deep molecular level.

I walk her to the elevator, mostly to make sure she is really leaving without running into Anastasia. When the elevator doors open she turns toward me and kisses my cheeks. "Remember I'm always here to help you, Christian."

"I know Elena. Bye."

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-"Counting stars" (Native.) OneRepublic, USA 2013.