The echo of her footsteps reverberated throughout the stark, empty house as she wandered around, searching for something not even she could discern. She sighed lowly, her soft breath running through the strands of her side bangs.

She had retreated to the library after administering Christian's medicine, too ashamed to face him. She knew that it was silly, to be embarrassed over what had transpired. They were mature adults. Sometimes, things happen, but eventually you get over it - that's what adults do... Except Ana couldn't ignore the sting of rejection that bubbled up inside of her every time she looked at Christian.

Perhaps she felt that way because she truly cared about him, or perhaps she felt that way because finally, after twenty one years of waiting for Mr. Right to come along, she put herself out there and was met with a harsh dose of reality.

She lurked through the house, hiding from Christian and hiding from her problems, at least for the time being. Her job was not done, meaning that no matter how embarrassed she felt, she'd have to suck it up and deal with it. She hung her head low, peering at her white shoes as they glided across the pristine hardwood floor. She was angry at herself for being so foolish, to put herself in a compromising position with a patient. She knew better, but there was just something about Christian. Something about him that she couldn't understand.

"Do you need something, Ms. Steele?"

Ana lifted her head, pushing her hair out of her face. Mrs. Jones stood expectantly in front of her, her hair and uniform neatly in place. Ana groaned, she knew she didn't look near as put together as Christian's housekeeper.

"No, ma'am," she whispered, her fingers running across the wall adjacent to her. She pursued her lips, not sure of what to do. Obviously, Mrs. Jones was confused as to why Ana was not with Christian, doing her job of all things, and to why she looked so forlorn. Ana was far away from the overzealous, optimistic young nurse that she had been when she arrived to Christian's penthouse. Now, she wasn't sure exactly how to act.

"Is everything okay?" Mrs. Jones stepped forward, a kind and concerned look on her face. Ana felt flattered at her sympathy, but not in the mood to explain all of her troubles. She wasn't sure she even could, or that Mrs. Jones would understand.

"Yes, ma'am, everything is fine. I'm just about to swing up to Christian's room," Ana trailed off, spinning around on her heels to make a quick dash away from Mrs. Jones. She wondered if she looked unprofessional in the older woman's eyes. She had been working for Christian for how long? And she still managed to occupy every inch of her time to some duty that manifested itself. She didn't wander around the house like a coward.

"Ms. Steele, wait," she commanded, softly gripping onto Ana's elbow. Her olive skin contrasted against Ana's milky, white flesh, her touch causing blood to rise to the surface.

Ana stopped, turning to face Gail. She dropped Ana's elbow, anxiously ringing her hands. "I'm not sure if this is my place to say this..." She started, stopping the nervous movements of her hand to smooth down her apron. Mrs. Jones took a breath, her mouth hanging open indecisively, as if she were unsure whether to close it or push words out.

"I hope you two are not having problems," she continued. Ana took a step back, unconsciously placing a barrier between her and Gail. Ana had no intentions of addressing the situation ever again, much less with one of Christian's employees.

"We're not," Ana interrupted, crossing her arms. She smiled, no humor or geniality reaching her eyes. "I'm not sure why you would think that," she lied.

Mrs. Jones took another breath, nodding her head slightly. The small, plump woman looked up at Ana, a glint in her eyes that both scared and soothed the young girl. Her look screamed protection and empathy, two things that Ana desperately needed at the moment... But was it right coming from her?

"Of course, Ms. Steele, I mean no accusation; I only want the best for both you and Mr. Grey. I understand that he can be... Difficult to work with at times-"

I'll say!

"- but he is a compassionate man underneath his cold exterior. You simply have to keep digging," she concluded, eyeing Ana knowingly.

She frowned, enclosing her arms around herself. "I'm not sure what you mean," Ana admitted.

"Well, just... Don't be so easy to give up on him, or jump to conclusions about how he is feeling. He is a very complicated man, but believe me - he cares more than he lets on."

Mrs. Jones finished her speech with a warm smile, rubbing Ana's arm encouragingly. She pushed past her, off to do whatever other errands she had not finished. Ana wasn't sure how to digest the information. Should she be relieved? Be apathetic? Any type of relationship between Christian and herself could never be more than professional, simply because their personalities clashed. She had to admit that something about him drove her wild, but that was exactly the problem. Either she was mad with desire, or mad with frustration. There was no happy medium with them and a relationship like that is doomed.

"Mrs. Jones," Ana called softly, looking over her shoulders. "What made you say all of this to me?" She asked, completely confused on how either her or Christian had let on to what happened in the bathroom.

Mrs. Jones cleared her throat, shuffling slightly. "Although the house is expensive, the walls are very thin, Ms. Steele."

Ana blushed the color of fresh beets in the middle of spring.

"Okay, Mr. Grey, that's enough," Ana declared, looking at her watch. Even with a sprained ankle, Christian wanted to push himself to the limit. Ana couldn't even imagine putting in ten minutes of effort on that darned machine.

Gosh, I'm out of shape.

"I can keep going," he argued, slightly out of breath. From the looks of it, Christian was used to much more vigorous exercise. Only one small bead of sweat rolled down the side of his head during the whole thirty minutes.

"Sure, but I'm not allowing that," she stated, powering off the treadmill. Christian rolled his eyes, sulking as he stepped off of the platform.

"That was barely a workout," he complained, "my ankle feels fine."

"That's great, but you're overdoing it. You've only been off of bed rest for a week, Sir."

Christian sucked his teeth. "C'mon, I feel great. Look," he gestured, jumping up and down on his injured ankle. "Doesn't even hurt."

"Mr. Grey!" Ana exclaimed, sighing and grabbing onto his arms. She halted his movements, glaring at him. "Don't come crying to me when your ankle is swollen tonight," she hissed. "Injuries take time to heal."

Christian groaned obnoxiously, dropping down onto the couch theatrically. "You're being such a killjoy today."

"And you're being overly excitable," Ana remarked. "Would you mind going back to your mean-spirited self?" She questioned, "he was much easier to ignore," she added under her breath.

"Why would you want to ignore me?" He asked, crossing his arms. The previous mirth evaporated from his face, a blank, hard expression taking its place.

Ana blushed. "What?" She asked.

"I heard you. Why would you want to ignore me?"

"Honestly? Because you're intimidating... And rude. And demanding and obnoxious and self-absorbed and materialistic," she rambled.

"Such sweet sentiments," Christian quipped.

"See, there you go," Ana stated softly, pointing at him. She turned away, trying to occupy herself with something in the room. She tried to do anything just to not have to face him.

"Well, that's not usually what you want to hear from someone who-"

He cut his sentence off, staring away into the distance.

"Who what?" Ana asked, slightly curious.

"Who happens to have all the qualities you wish for," he admitted, looking down at his hands.

Ana was shocked. Why would he want to be anything like her? She was a loser. He had a fulfilling career, he took control over every situation. Ana was just... Nice. Being nice isn't hard.

"Hmm, I wonder who you could be talking about," she murmured, rejecting his compliment. She walked several steps away from him, off into another section of his vast living room. She ran her hands over the keys of his piano, the sweet tunes resonating deep within her spirit.

"I can play for you," Christian suggested, the heat from his body radiating onto Ana's back. His breath tickled her ear, his warm, musky scent infiltrating the air around her.

Goosebumps appeared on her flesh, her heart slightly speeding up. They hadn't been this close to each other since the fateful events that occurred in the bathroom, for Ana was too embarrassed to even look in his direction.

"No, thank you," Ana whispered, her mouth dry. She stood frozen in place, too scared to move. Her body froze over with fear and desire, unsure of what Christian's next move would be. She feared he would touch her, but even worse, a small part of her hoped he would.

"I want to," he insisted, "make an old man happy."

Ana moved away, allowing him access to the piano, but he grabbed her arm at the last second. Ana jerked, Christian's hot flesh like a branding iron against her skin. She sighed and closed her eyes, hating and loving the feel of his skin on hers.

"Sit," he commanded, patting the space next to him.

Ana conceded, moving robotically onto the piano bench. She was afraid to talk, to breathe even. Nothing felt safe with Christian anymore. She didn't trust herself around him, didn't trust what she might say or do. Her body, mind, and soul craved him, even though she knew she shouldn't.

Christian's fingers glided over the piano keys, a soft, sweet lament echoing through the walls of Escala. Ana closed her eyes, feeling the music as the pitch ebbed and flowed. It was over too soon, her eyes springing open at Christian's abrupt halt.

She noticed he was looking at her, which made her blush. She looked away, turning her gaze towards the wall of windows, watching the clouds as they moved across the morning sky. "What was that called?" She asked, intrigued by the powerful piece he had played.

"Anastasia," he answered.

Ana raised her eyebrows. "By who?"

"Me. I just made it up now."

Ana gaped, astonished. "It was... Beautiful."

He shrugged. "I only played what I felt," he answered lowly. He raised his hand, sliding his finger across her cheek affectionately. Ana inhaled quickly, shocked and excited. She wanted to pull away, but her body leaned deeper into his embrace. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent.

He ran another hand through her hair, the soft strands falling effortlessly through his fingers. He leaned forward.

"No, not again," Ana sighed, pulling away. "I can't. You... You said you didn't want this."

She stood up, placing her arms around herself, each hand firmly grasping her shoulders. She shook her head, confused and irritated. Why was he playing with her emotions? Was it funny to him?

"I know," he admitted, standing. "But... I can't stay away from you. I don't know what it is."

"It's not right," she whispered.

"I've never done things right, and I turned out okay... For the most part," he argued, "why can't this?"

Ana bit her lip, conflicted with herself. She needed to face reality, not delude herself. It wouldn't work out because she was Anastasia Steele and he was Christian Grey, two completely different people with different views of the world. They clashed, they irritated each other, they disagreed on every single thing... But it all still felt right.