Chapter 10
Grey House, 3.40pm. Friday, June 26th

Christian called Andrea's cell. It went straight to her familiar cheery message telling him to leave a message and she'd get back to him. He listened, imagining her striding into his office, her very presence reassuring him that everything was under control and it was going to be alright.

"Help. I've fired Megan. Call me, please." he implored. He took the phone away from his ear, pressed the screen to end the call and threw his BlackBerry down on the desk where it skittered over the polished wood, pitched off the front and onto the floor. "Fuck." He muttered and exhaled, sinking his head into his hands and wishing the ground would swallow him up. Firing people used to be so easy; back in the days when he didn't have a heart, or feelings, just total and utter control. And where had getting a new heart from the Wizard of Oz, (AKA his wife), gotten him? His office exploited as an exciting place to have sex by his temporary P.A. and her scrotum of a boyfriend from accounts. Plus she was off her head on Vicodin, to boot.

Megan had been genuinely remorseful whereas her fuckwit boyfriend, Liam, had been an example of what might have been, had Christian not developed the ability to control himself along with the desire to control others. Liam Turner was an out and out bully. He'd modeled himself on Christian and had set about getting to the twentieth floor however he could. A little flattery and pressure applied to the impressionable Megan, had given him access to Christian's office when it was empty and when Beth could be persuaded to deliver some files to another floor. He'd got the expensive suit, the tousled hair but where he failed was having an ego the size of Jupiter and no ability to control it. Firing him was a pleasure. Firing Megan was somewhat harder, because it left Christian himself in the shit.

He was two weeks away from the biggest deal of his career, the one that would take GEH truly global and what with this and his past - which refused to stay where he'd put it - the shit had well and truly hit the fan. Even Ana's pregnancy was a complicating factor. He really didn't want to leave her while she was feeling so sick. It looked like it was going to be Phoebe all over again.

Compared to Phoebe, the nausea and sickness she'd had with Teddy had been nothing. She'd barely kept anything down during the first trimester with Phoebe and Christian had been frantic with worry during those first few weeks. Not that Ana's sickness had affected Phoebe in any way, at all. Out she'd come; pink, healthy and weighing a pound and a half more than Teddy.

He raked in a breath. The world seemed a tough place today and he was still getting used to this feeling of being dependent on people, of having to trust them. Sometimes, that trust had surprised him. Andrea had gone from being someone he'd barely known, to a woman he could trust implicitly and who'd never let him down. Perversely, it was now he who feared that he'd be the one to let her down if she ever uncovered the truth about his past. If the truth came out, how would Andrea react? Would she lose respect for him? Would she quit? He couldn't bear that. He needed Andrea more than ever now to do her brilliant stuff and get him to Singapore with his sanity intact. A smile briefly flared on his face when he realized that for all his past, his life was now largely dependent on two key women. He needed Andrea here and he needed Ana everywhere else and the fact that they were both not entirely at fighting strength was making him feel vulnerable.

If Andrea was sat behind the desk out there and Ana was not feeling so sick, the minor irritation of Moore would not even be worrying him. But it was as if his right and left flanks had been taken out at exactly the wrong time, leaving him dangerously exposed to enemy attack.

When they were kids, his family and the Moore family had hung out a lot together. They'd been close and Christian could clearly remember Marnie. He was seven years older than her, but a rake-thin girl with more hair than any child should ever have, stood out. It was as if her body had concentrated on making hair and not growing any other part of her body. Her mass of red-brown curls gave her an almost comic-book appearance, as if someone had scribbled her hair on. She was also loud and nosey, the perfect temperament for a journalist. Kate too was nosey although Kate's nosiness was kept strictly off the radar. You never knew Katherine Kavanagh-Grey was after you until it was too late, as several recent new inmates of Washington State penitentiaries could attest. But Moore was Kate's colleague and because of that Kate too had been rendered inert and another piece of his armory had been taken out. If Kate stepped in to protect Christian, her employer might take that as obstructing another journalist's work, and fire her. With Kate out of the way, Marnie Moore would have an even clearer shot.

Christian didn't remember a lot of his childhood. For a very good reason he'd blanked a lot of it out. He wondered how much of her childhood Marnie remembered? Did she remember one late summer barbeque when she was eight and he was fifteen? It had been where Mia, a year older, had finally lost patience with the girl and pushed Marnie into the pool fully clothed. But that wasn't the thing that Christian remembered most about that barbeque. It had taken place about a month into his relationship with Elena and was the first social event they'd both been at. Awkward was not the word.

At fifteen he was still classed as one of the kids while Elliot, two years older was treated as one of the adults. But he hadn't felt like one of the kids, he'd fucked Elena enough times by then to know that.

Although she was across the yard with the other adults he could feel her eye on him all the time. It had been early days for him as her submissive and he still wasn't sure what he could and couldn't do, so he did nothing. He just stood there, drinking endless glasses of Coke. Everyone else interpreted it as Christian just being Christian – moody and miserable - and had ignored him as usual. He'd skulked away to a quiet corner, a corner Elena had confronted him in later. Even sitting quietly he'd done the wrong thing.

"Stand up." She'd snapped. He'd instantly complied. "How much of that stuff have you drunk?"

"Six glasses."

"No more. It's full of sugar and chemicals. Switch to water. Have you eaten something?"

"Uh… yeah."

"Yes. Speak properly. People will not take you seriously if you don't. Take a look at yourself in a mirror, fix your hair and socialize. I will deal with you if you don't."

It was the last thing he'd felt like doing, but he knew what punishment awaited him if he didn't comply.

"Yes, Mrs. Lincoln."

She'd run a finger down his arm and her touch had made unwelcome movements in his shorts. That he remembered with sickening clarity. Being caught at a family barbeque with a hard-on for your Mom's friend wasn't cool. She'd reached his hand and she'd taken hold of it, when out of the corner of his eye, he'd seen movement and turned his head to see Marnie starting at him.

"What are you doing?" She'd asked. She was all hair and precociousness in a pretty maroon dress.

"I'm talking to Christian," replied Elena.

"You're touching him."

"Yes, I am."

"Mrs. Grey says that you're not allowed to touch Christian, he doesn't like it." Marnie looked at him. "Why don't you like it?"

He'd shrugged. "Because I don't." His surly reply garnered a glare from Elena. Another lash would be added.

"So why is she touching you?"

"Oh fuck off." Christian had said in his head. She would grow up into one nosey bitch.

They were saved by Barbara Moore encouraging everyone to get some food. Eating was obviously more exciting than wondering why Mrs. Lincoln was touching a boy who didn't like to be touched. Marnie Moore had scampered away.

Back in his office, as seemingly inconsequential as it was, Christian hoped that Marnie hadn't remembered that tiny incident. He had, because back then, the exciting new world of sex and Elena had made every moment sear itself onto his brain. If only he'd known where that would take him? Yes, into incredible success as an entrepreneur; but also into something he wasn't proud of. Into over a decade of being controlled by Elena, and then moving on to control other people. Finally, twelve years on from that barbeque he'd discovered that there was more to life than sex and control. There was out-of-control love.

He glanced up at the current picture of Ana on his wall, the sentinel that guarded his office and his life. It was pensive Ana. He didn't want her to be pensive. He got up and went over to the store cupboard and selected sexy Ana from the stock of pictures. All of the pictures were of sexy Ana, but this one was even sexier, just from the way she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. It had been a simple snap, but José had managed to capture her spirit in every pixel. These pictures were a few years old now, but he would never part with them. They were seven photographs of what it was that he'd fallen in love with. When it all fell apart, as it tended to do sometimes, she was the one constant. She was his absolute rock. She couldn't be everywhere all the time; but in his office when he was feeling in need of her, all he had to do was look up and she gave him sustenance in spirit before he could get home and claim it from her in person.

He dragged out a step ladder. This was the one job he did himself. Nobody changed the pictures but him. Another example of nobody touching Ana but him, just as nobody touched him but Ana. That wasn't strictly true these days as Ted and Phoebe could touch him, but his children were a different matter. And then there was Mia. She'd never given a fuck about his stupid no touching rule, although a sisterly swipe wasn't really a touch, not the way Ana could touch him. The thought of how Ana could touch him made very welcome movements in his pants and he smiled. Even in his darkest moments she could lift him out just by thinking about her. He hung sexy Ana on the wall and replaced the other picture and steps in the store cupboard.

He checked his watch, it was mid-afternoon in Seattle. It was nearly midnight in Britain, too late to call Matt and find out how the boatyard restorations were coming on and far too early in Uganda to call Alex and find out how things were going on the farming project in Gulu. The two people he knew who could give him some good news right now were asleep. Fucking time zones!

He looked up at Ana again. He wanted more than to look at her. He wondered if he could scoot downtown and just hang out in her office for the rest of the day. Nobody would know he was there. He could sit under her desk. A lascivious grin cracked his face as he thought about what he could do sitting under her desk while she took a meeting above it. How long could she maintain her composure if he pushed up her skirt, gently parted her legs and got to work? There was a knock on the door.

"Yes!"

Beth put her head hesitantly around it. "I'm sorry Mr. Grey, but I'm not sure what needs doing. Megan didn't leave a list."

He internally slumped as the opportunity of putting his head between Ana's thighs evaporated. He hoped Andrea called back soon. "I'll be right out." He said and Beth darted away. He looked up at Ana on the wall. "Give me strength?" He asked.

And just from her picture, she did.