Family Ties

Disclaimer - All the rights to the wonderful world of Fifty Shades Trilogy belongs to E.L. James. I do not own any of the characters from the trilogy. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: I'm so sorry because of yesterday, and the problems with FF. I, however, published the story on AO3 also, so if something similar happens with FF you'll find the chapter uploaded there.

Next, I want to say sorry to you guys for really fucking things up and omitting the real chapter 2. For those of you who didn't read the review I left yesterday, I made a huge mistake and haven't uploaded the proper chapter in the proper place. So the update you got saying I uploaded chapter 9 is basically chapter 2 of the story, Game Over, a continuation to the scene in the bar. Now, everything will be clearer as to why did Christian say he's Elliott. But you guys already got it before, so you're all awesome. Now, please don't kill me…

Sorry, sorry, a billions time sorry and I promise it won't happen again. I know I have disappointed you greatly, but I hope I'll pay for some of my sins with this chapter.

Without further ado, I present to you…drum roll…Ana's family history. It will be a lot different than the one in the book, but I got this idea and it stuck in my head. I can't wait for you to tell me what you think about it…until then I'll chew my nails off :D

Christian's POV

We're lying in bed, my front to her back, and the lights from the city below making strange patterns across the walls. I'm playing with a strand of her hair, rolling it across my finger and she makes small circles on my wrist.

We don't really talk. I noticed this about us. We talk only if we have something worth mentioning. Strangely, I'm not bothered because of the endless silence stretching between us. Maybe because I'm somewhat feeling guilty about lying to her and in this way I avoid telling her more lies. I scoff inwardly at the thought. Who am I kidding? I don't have a conscience.

It's actually strange how at ease I feel around her. She makes me feel almost normal, and that it's one of the other reason why I don't regret telling her the wrong name. The fact that she doesn't know who I am lifts a huge weight of my shoulders. I don't know if she were to know the truth she would treat me differently, but I know that when I'm with her I'm just a man that enjoys the present. A man with no past, no money, no fame, no obligations and no future.

I like that there is nothing to complicate our relationship. I scoff again inwardly. Relationship. Though, I suppose we do have a relationship. After all, I'm cuddling with a woman I just had sex with. Vanilla sex, nonetheless. That doesn't scare me. Why doesn't it scare me? Maybe because of the countdown, maybe because I know none of this is real. All I know is that I truly enjoy living in the moment, for now.

Suddenly, Anastasia gets up and sits on her knees, looking at me, wrapping a sheet around her. She just blinks at me for a seconds and looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn't.

"I have to go to the bathroom" she finally mutters, disappearing into the bathroom. What the fuck?

I get up, as well and put on my boxers and a T-shirt. I go in the seating area of the penthouse and pour myself some water. She reemerges from the bedroom, wearing nothing but one of my t-shirts.

I smile seeing her, because I like that. She seems so much smaller, all wrapped in a few sizes too big t-shirt. Like a present. My present.

She smiles at me, too, but it doesn't reach her eyes. I sigh and sit on the couch.

"What's wrong?" I ask her, perhaps a lot harsher than I intended, because she visibly flinches. "Come here" I say softer, stretching my hand.

She just shakes her head and fumbles behind the bar for a minute. She finally comes to me, a bottle of scotch and two glasses in her hands. She puts the items on the coffee table and fills the glasses, offering one to me.

I take it, one eyebrow raised, regarding her suspiciously. She seems nervous, for some reason and I don't understand what it is I did wrong. If she's not starting to talk soon, my anxiety will kick in, and then I'll get angry.

She takes a large gulp of the glass, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She takes a deep breath and starts talking.

"So…I've been thinking. I don't know if…I mean…I know we don't have a real relationship, but still…What I'm trying to say is…I think you have a right to know…"

I lose my patience and snap. "Just spit it out, Anastasia."

She glares at me. "Gee, thanks for the consideration." She spats through her teeth.

"Sorry" I mumble. "I'm not a patient man."

"You don't say…" she says mockingly, one eyebrow risen. I narrow my eyes in warning, even though she seems unfazed. God, I would really like to take her over my knee right now.

"So, what I was trying to say before you rudely interrupted me is that I would like to tell you about my family." She says. Okay, good. As the background check came back empty…the more information the better.

Again she's nervous. "Well, I'm adopted…No, that's not the right beginning. I don't really know how to start…" she stays silent for a few seconds, biting her lip, mulling something in her head.

"My real father is Francois Bouvois" she blurts out and I choke on my drink.

"Francois Bouvois? As in Bouvois Participations du Groupe ? Fucking BPG ?"

"Yes…" she says simply, looking at me with wide eyes, like I was a wounded animal. I guess I was, in some way. I just fucked my biggest competitor's daughter.

"So, you work for your father." I state bitterly.

"I do, but it's not like that. When I accepted to work for his company we made a deal. He doesn't meddle in my work and I don't get special treatment. And he gets to know that I'm safe, working for him."

"But then…how come you're adopted?" I ask, confused.

"I was getting there. So, I suppose you also know about my father's ties with the royal family." I nod and she continues.

"Sometime in the eighties, my father met this beautiful, young Russian girl, daughter of some diplomat, in one of the trips he made with my grandfather. They fell in love, of course, but they had to keep their relationship a secret, because…"

"Because your father was rumored to be favorite as an heir to the throne and because he was the apparent heir of the company your grandfather created." I cut her off.

"Yes. Well…after a few years, I happened. When my mother got pregnant the situation in Russia was sketchy, and the news that she was with child, a Belgian socialite being the father, were not doing wonders for my mother's family. They basically disowned her, but my grandfather took care of her and gave her shelter. My father, however, was soon supposed to announce his engagement with one of the royal family's princesses. So, they kept everything under wrapped, and nine months later I was born in secret at one of my father's properties."

She takes a deep breath, taking a sip from her glass and continues. "My father is a very controlling man, and is always used to get his way. Security is a big deal for him and he's obsessed with his loved ones being safe…"

"How's that relevant?" I ask.

"I don't know…"she murmurs. "I guess it explains his later actions."

"So, they never got married." I state.

She shakes her head. "You know they didn't. He married the princess. I don't think they even continued being together in any way after I was born. My mother however, I think she never got over him. She married several times after, but I think she's still deeply in love with him even today."

"So she married and one of her husbands adopted you?" I ask, getting more confused.

"No. I was adopted by a man named Ray Steele, but he was never married to my mother. I guess they were friends, in a way, but nothing more."

"You lost me." I say to her, because this story is getting in the twilight zone more and more.

"Ray was one of my dad's most trusted security men. He was assigned to look after me and my mom. Because of my mom's name, and Russian heritage, my father couldn't risk putting me in harm's way. And of course I couldn't take his name because I basically didn't exist in his life. So, after a few months, Ray offered to give me his name. And I become his daughter." She says to me, with a proud, loving smile on her face.

"Ray's great. I'm proud to call him dad. He was always there for me. For a few years, we all lived together, my mom, Ray and me. But, when I was seven, my mom married for the first time. It was an awkward situation for all of us, so I chose to live with Ray. My father was relieved, too."

"So, let me get this straight. You are part Russian, part French…"

"Belgian" she corrects me, rolling her eyes.

I narrow my eyes at her, but continue "…Belgian. And adopted by a…" I stop myself before saying American, because I'm not supposed to be privy to the information regarding Ray Steele, former military, currently retired, living in Montesano.

"American" she says. "Yeah…weird, I know."

"Not at all" I say, mockingly. "So, where have you grown up?"

"All over the place" she says, with a sweeping motion of her hand. "As a matter of security, my dad moved us around a lot. I lived all around Europe. I grew up in the south of France, Monaco and Switzerland. After that there was Spain, Italy and Turkey. And I spent a part of my teenage years in England. Though, when I was 15 my dad decided enough is enough and took me to live with him and his family, at the estate."

"Wow…" I don't know what to say…I'm speechless. Suddenly, I remember something. "Wait, so Jose…how is he a part of this?"

"Well, when I was around three years old my father considered that some extra security was necessary. So he hired Jose's father, at Ray's recommendation, because they were in the military together. Jose and his family came and lived with us. It was good for my mother, too, because she had another woman around now."

"Where's your mother now?" I ask her.

"She's living somewhere in Greece, with husband number three." she says laughing quietly.

"Are you two close?"

"We used to, when I was little. Now, not so much. I don't blame her, for anything. I know she loves me and I love her back. But I always understood that she had to make a life for herself, too. Try her luck at a new love. I'm happy when she's happy." She says, with a forlorn expression.

"What about your father? Your real father, I mean? Have you seen him often?"

She nods her head. "Yes, whenever he could. Every few months, sometimes weeks, he would come and visit. The visits were brief, though. I never went to visit him. I never got along with his family, even when I was living with him. I suppose his wife always blamed me for his refusal to have any more children."

I don't know what to say. I feel overwhelmed with all this information. I'm suddenly glad I didn't found this all from the background check, because I couldn't have possibly understood it. At least now, I got to ask questions and she clarified things for me.

I liked that she answered them truthfully and I started to trust her a little more. But still, her story is amazing. I don't know how she never got insane considering all this things. And moving from place to place. She must have been so lonely. She couldn't have made many friends this way.

But then, I never had any friends, either. And I turned out fairly all right. Yeah, right, as if. She was practically deserted by her parents, raised by a stranger. Sure, they provided for her and all, but…I'm suddenly feeling very lucky for meeting Grace and Carrick and I have a new found appreciation for them.

And I still didn't find about her scars, how she got them, who made them. By the way she talks about her parents; they are certainly not the culprits. She talks about all three of them with such love and affection. She has such a big heart, loving them even though they disappointed her.

The fucker Jose couldn't be responsible either, I think. She didn't seem afraid of him the other day, just very annoyed. And she did threaten him to kick his ass, so…

I realize I've been zoning out for a while, and I look at her and see that she didn't take her eyes off me, waiting nervously for my reaction.

I give her a small smile. I don't know what to say.

"So…should I leave now? Did I spook you enough?" she asks, timidly.

"Why would I feel scared? I don't care who your family is. It's not what defines you." And it's true. If I were to be judged by who my mother or father were, God help me.

She beams at me and hugs me, all of a sudden. I tense in her embrace, not liking to be touched, even though I know she won't hurt me.

"Thank you" she says. She must have felt my discomfort, because she pulls away quickly and flushes. "Sorry, I know you don't like to be touched. I got carried away."

"It's okay." I say with a small, reassuring smile. "It happens."

She yawns and stretches. I chuckle, seeing her sleepy face. "Tired?" I ask and she nods.

"Come on then. Bed time for us, baby." I say, pulling her up and dragging her to the bedroom. I sure hope the nightmares will stay away tonight, too.