Hey there lovely readers. I am so sorry that it has been a while since my last update. I had a few things come up and I didn't have any time to get a chapter out. I will be updating a few today =] So I hope you like them.

Chapter Ten:

Sixteen minutes later, Christian pulled to a halt outside the mansion. He reached for a leather briefcase in the back seat, opened it and said.

"I might as well give you this stuff now, Ana."

He handed her some papers, a checkbook and a credit card.

"Everything's been set up in your name. This is the balance in the account, and this amount will be added on the first of every month. Oh and here's the limit on the credit card."

Ana sat still, gazed at the numbers that scarcely seemed real. Once again, the ground had shifted under her feet.

"That's far too much," she said.

"You'll get used to it." he replied cynically.

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. Who's money is it?"

"Carrick's, I'm just the messenger."

Just wasn't a word that applied to Christian Grey, she thought drumming her fingers on her knee.

"Do you know how I feel? As though you're robbing me of everything I cherish, my solitude and independence, my job, my little house, my freedom. And you've got the gall to substitute money in their place, all to prevent an arrogant old man from getting upset." she said tightly as she riffled through the blank cheques.

Are you for real about the money, Christian thought. He looked at her in silence. She gave every impression of speaking from the heart and along with the distrust that was his constant companion, felt a flicker of remorse. How long since anyone had caused him to question his motives, or to see firsthand the results of his own actions.
It's for her own good...while this as true enough, maybe she deserved better of him. But his mind remained stubbornly blank of alternatives, the silence stretching in front of him like a sun baked desert.
In sudden impatience, Ana ran her fingers through her hair.

"I don't know why I thought you'd understand. Silly of me but when it's all said and done, I agreed to this charade, didn't I? Let's go and see Carrick and get it over with."

"Not until you've calmed down."

"Don't worry, I'll behave myself. In my fancy clothes and my expensive new shoes." she said bitterly.

He pounced. "Why are you embarking on this charade, as you call it. What's the real reason?"

Ana bit her lip, he couldn't have asked a more difficult question. "I haven't figured that out yet." she said evasively.

"When you do, let me know won't you?" he said nastily.

"Maybe. Maybe not. My reasons might be private." she tilted her chin.

"I'm sure they are and with good reason."

"You persist in suspecting me of the worst!" she yelled.

She was right. He did. With impersonal briskness Christian said, "We'd better go visit Carrick, he needs to settle down early, and we're leaving first thing in the morning. So this is your only chance to say goodbye to him."

If only she had a weapon, any weapon that would force Christian to see her as she really was. That would make even a minimal impression on him. But the prospect was laughable.
The mighty Christian Grey had a hide as tough as his leather briefcase. Ana preceded him into the house and up the stairs, carrying the sheaf of papers under her arm.

Carrick's bedroom door was open. The old man was sitting in an armchair that overlooked the blue waters of the cove although his face was turned away, there was both sadness and frustration in his bearing. Pity sliced through her. He was a widower who'd lost a beloved wife and during the last few weeks, he'd been exiled from health and vigor.

Tapping on the door to give him a moment to recover.

"This is the new me. Do you need an introduction?" She said lightly.

Stiffly Carrick turned his head, his eyes widened. "You remind me of Grace, my wife she was a beauty, stole my breath from my body until the day she died."

More moved then she cared to admit, Ana said softly, "Thank you, Mr Grey. That's a lovely thing to say."

"What do you plan to call me girl? Because you can drop the Mr Grey crap."

"I'll call you Carrick if you'll quit calling me girl."

"Done deal. So you're off to Manhattan tomorrow." He gave a bark of laughter.

"Yes although I reserve the right at any time to go home to the island." She said.

"Christian better make damn sure you don't."

"It may not be up to Christian, I have a mind of my own."

"So does Christian," Carrick said with a fierce grin.

"Then may be the better man or women win." Ana said, tossing her head.

"If you two have finished squaring off like a couple of roosters, I've got work to do." Christian said.

But Ana wasn't finished. Indicating the sheaf of papers under her arm she said awkwardly.

"Thank you for this, Carrick you've been extremely generous and I promise I won't waste your money."

"Have fun with it, Reckon there hasn't been much fun in your life up to now." Carrick said gruffly.

"I will," Quickly Ana stepped closer, kissed is wrinkled cheek and whispered in his ear, "Thanks Gramps."

His snort of delighted laughter followed her out of the room, Christian was close on her heels. When they were out of earshot of the bedroom, he grated, "You've got him eating out of your hand already, well done Anastasia."

"You don't want him upset but when I'm nice to him, you don't like that either. What's your problem?" She whirled in a flare of skirts.

For my whole life I've wanted something Carrick wouldn't give me...yet already he's giving it to you. Christian thought.
Christian sure wasn't going to say that. But his brain, his much vaunted brain wouldn't come up with anything else. Action. That's what he needed. He grabbed her around the waist, pulled her toward him and kissed her hard on the lips. She kicked out at him. Ignoring the sharp pain in his shin , he deepened the kiss, demanding from her different response, calling on all his considerable skills to evoke it.

Ana surrendered suddenly, generously and completely for what other choice did she have? Her body was melting in his embrace, and of their own accord her arms wound themselves around his neck, her fingers digging into his scalp. It was a kiss she wanted to end.

Her mouth, that exquisite mouth, melded with Christian's in a way that drove him to the brink. He was steeped in her. Scorched by her. If he didn't have her, he'd explode.
His tongue laced hers. His hands pushed aside the lapels of her jacket, finding, under the silken fabric, the warm swell of her breast. Her shudder of response rocketed through him. Her nipple had hardened, her body arching into his until there was nothing in the world but this women, so willing, so achingly desirable.

He was ravishing her not thirty feet from Carrick's bedroom door.
With a muffled sound of self-disgust, Christian thrust her away.

"I don't know what happens to me when I'm around you. My brain's go in reverse." He snarled.

She was trembling, he saw renewed fury. Her lips were swollen from his kiss, her eyes dazed.

"You can't do that to me! Kiss me as though I'm the only women in the world and then shove me away as if I revolt you." she cried.

Nothing could be further from the truth, that much Christian knew. But how much easier it would be if Ana believed he was only toying with her.

"I'll do what I want," he said, and watched her quiver as if he'd struck her.

"You hate me." she whispered, recoiling.

"I hate what you do to me."

"Yet we are supposed to travel together?"

His own question, precisely. One that had haunted him the last two nights.

"You know what the problem is? I need to find myself a women. One who knows the score." he said with deliberate brutality.

Pain tore though her defenses. "So you're not really kissing me, anyone would do?"

"Not just anyone. She has to be beautiful, sophisticated and temporary. Too many stars in your eyes for my liking."

Her nostrils flared, even her hair seemed to spark with electricity.

"I'm not afraid of my feelings, if that's what you mean."

"Wearing your heart on your sleeve is plain stupid."

"Not having one is worse."

"That's..."

"Right now, I wouldn't kiss you if you were the last man in Manhattan. Your whole life's a lie, Christian. Going behind my back with my job, tricking me into protecting Carrick, manipulating me to suit your own ends. I don't hate you... I despise you!"

So he'd succeeded, Christian thought. She'd avoid him as much as was possible in the next few day. And he, heaven help him wouldn't lay as much as a finger on her.
To his fury, there was an icy lump lodged in his gut.

"Be ready to leave at eight in the morning. I'll have Taylor bring some suitcases to your room." He said curtly.

Then he turned on his heel and marched down the hallway.
Lust, that's all it was. Straightforward lust.
Of an intensity and degree beyond his experience.