He'd downloaded her cd to his phone, his iCloud account and finally to a flash drive that he locked up in the safe along with his most important documents, photos and that small box he'd yet to look through.
Lingering over the faded Nike shoebox he exhaled sharply, slamming the door to the safe shut before walking away from the one link he had to his past. Grace had given it to him on his 18th birthday with sad eyes and a shaky hand. 'If you want to know more,' she'd explained, her voice drifting off until he could hear nothing but the blood rushing through his temples.
For nine days he'd left it untouched on the desk in his room only opening it one night after getting so drunk he'd pissed the bed. In the morning he remembered nothing about its contents but there was a new picture tacked onto the corkboard in the corner that hadn't been there when he had first lifted the Jack Daniels to his lips.
A young woman in what appeared to be a mug shot stared at the camera. Her hair was a muddy brown, her skin a sallow yellow but it was her eyes that made her striking. Gray and bright, the effects of her constant drug use not at all evident in the intense stare framed by lashes so thick they looked fake. His eyes, mirrored in the photo of the woman who had given him life and then had barely let him keep it.
When the hangover subsided he'd stared at the picture so long he was sure her eyes had started to follow him around the room.
That had been almost eleven years ago and while he'd been in his childhood bedroom a hundred times since then, he'd never, not once, looked at that picture again.
So why, on Christmas Day did he find himself leaning against the closed door of his old room, the photo six feet to the right still in the same spot he'd left it in all those years ago? Why today? Why now while his family drank themselves into the pleasant numbness of Carrick's famous cranberry martini's while they watched 'A Christmas Story'?
For what seemed like forever he stood there, a grown man afraid to open his eyes before he finally kicked off the door and turned, the eyes of his birth mother just as brilliant, just as entrancing, just as haunted as they had been all those years ago. According to the date on the back of the picture she'd been 21 when it was taken which would have made him two.
Where was I when they took this? Who was caring for me? Was I alone even then?
He stared back, his hands shoved so far in his pockets he was afraid he'd tear them.
"Christian?" his sister called from the hallway, a light rap on the door his only indication that Mia was on her way in.
He turned, busied himself with a book he must have left there at some point and waited for the questions to start. She strode in and looked around, flipping open the curtains and taking a look around.
"Mom hasn't changed anything. I keep telling her you're an old man and you're not coming to live back at home but she just waves me off and says she's keeping it for when you have kids."
"I'm not going to have kids, Mia." Ever.
She swallowed back the disappointment and threw herself on the bed, sprawling out in an effort to get her older brother to relax and get casual as well. There had been a time when things had been normal between them. A time when all three of the Grey kids would sleep out in the living room to wait for Santa, a time when her brothers would play jokes on each other or would humor her and play a board game before heading out for the night.
Elliot was still up for anything but Christian, well he'd been pulling back since he was about 15, the reason clear once Mia had been old enough to understand just what that vile cunt had done to him.
For a while, when the truth had been forced into the open and her parents had basically cornered him and made him talk she'd been hopeful. He'd been so broken then, so vulnerable when it had all come out but then she realized it wasn't vulnerability she'd seen, it had been fear. Fear that his secret would be made public, fear that his family would shun him, fear that he'd lose the fledgling company he'd built from the ground up.
But then the news lost interest, Elena's picture stopped making the front page, the articles about her lining bird cages instead of fueling gossip. And since then, little by little Christian had pulled away again. Less Sunday dinners, less monthly lunches with she and her mother, less baseball games with Elliot, less boat days with Carrick. She still tried but the brother who had once snuck her up on the roof to show her shooting stars just got further and further away.
It had been hard on their entire family to watch Christian retreat into solitude but what had hurt was that he'd chosen it. They hadn't shut him out, they hadn't excluded him from their day to day, they hadn't loved him less. That had all been his decision. What started out as hurt had morphed into frustration and anger at the brother who could so callously cancel plans without any regard for those his actions affected. Lately her parents had stopped trying so hard thinking that maybe giving him as much space as he wanted would draw him back into the fray but all that did was allow him to be completely absent without any consequence.
But then he'd had his picture taken with a girl not once but twice and he'd not denied that they were at least something so maybe…maybe this was it. Maybe she could get her brother back after all. Maybe he'd notice the pain in their mothers eyes each time he rushed out early from dinner or the way their father knew all of GEH's news just so he could have something to talk to him about. Maybe he'd leave his phone in the car for once and actually engage in a meaningful conversation.
"Elliot said he ditched that Paulina bitch." Mia couldn't keep the glee out of her voice.
"Did he now? I expected as much after her behavior last night." At that he turned and tossed the book back onto the desk, moving towards the door as she predicted he would. One on one conversations were too intimate for him so he avoided them at all cost. The man could command a room of dignitaries but he couldn't talk to his own sister.
"He said he met Anastasia too," she blurted out, instantly regretful of not having played it cooler. Now he'd never talk to her.
"Mia," he started, one hand on the door knob, the other running through his hair. "I thought it would make her more comfortable for New Years."
She gasped. He thought she was upset she hadn't been invited to dinner! Well, if she were honest, she was a bit put out but she understood her brothers and the weird dynamic they shared. No matter so long as they were happy and she could have some part of them.
"That was very thoughtful of you, Christian. I'm sure she appreciated it."
His hand dropped, his body turning towards hers to lean against the very same door he'd just pushed himself off of. He studied her, his finger tapping on the leg of his left leg while he thought.
"You think so?"
Inside she screamed with delight. He was talking to her? Engaging with her? She tamped down her joy and pretended it wasn't a big deal with a shrug.
"I'm sure of it. It makes girls happy when you think of them without having to be told to."
He snorted, "Well then she'd be thrilled since I think about her all the time."
Her jaw dropped but she caught it before he saw it. As lightly as she could she tossed a pillow behind her head and pretended to examine her nails.
"You like her." For a beat he said nothing. Just looked at his sister while he tried to work out in his head how to answer that. He did like Ana, there was no doubt about that and certainly the way he felt about her was different than anyone else before her but they weren't in a conventional relationship. Not one that he could explain to Mia at least.
"It's complicated, Mia." And just like that, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over his head he stopped talking, dropped his smile and pulled her up. "Come on, I think I just heard Grandma Trevelyan mention dessert and if you want any of that pumpkin pie, you'd better get there before Elliot."
And even though he'd barely said a word to her and even though he didn't seem any more within reach, Mia let herself hope that this girl, this pretty brunette musician would bring her brother back to her.
"It sounds amazing, Ana. I can't believe you wrote that in ten minutes." Josh shook his head and jotted down the accompanying notes onto the paper in front of him. "If we can figure out how to move it into four four time without it sounding clunky, it'd be perfect."
She sat next to him, her new Martin D-45 resting carefully across her lap and scribbled a couple lyrics onto a new sheet. "New song," she explained when Josh raised his brows at her in question.
He chuckled, "You've got a lot of them tonight. When was the last time you had this kind of mojo?"
Biting the tip of the blue pen she thought about it. "Never, actually. Coming up with a melody is easy, coming up with the lyrics has always been tough for me."
"So what's with the flow all of the sudden then?" Chase asked as he picked over the bass line, fine tuning a few timing issues.
"I guess I've recently been inspired," she shrugged. Josh, always taking the reigns and thinking it his right as lead singer of their little jam band stood and stretched before pulling her in a one armed embrace.
"Let's try it again but have Dylan play the rhythm guitar and you take the lead this time. That rift you came up with is killer."
For the next four hours she sat in the living room of her high school friends house and wrote, played, perfected and nixed song after song. Her resolution for 2012 was to preform somewhere live on stage. She'd always wanted to do it but when that nasty girlfriend of Elliot's had all but goaded her, she'd made a decision right then and there that she wasn't procrastinating any longer. Screw her.
So she'd opened her gifts, had dinner with her family, played Scrabble with her parents and then cleaned the kitchen before heading out to Dylan's house to meet up with the friends that knew her before she could play a thing. This small group of people who ate, slept and breathed music had gotten her through the toughest years of her life without even knowing it. No one knew her secret even though they'd figured out pretty damn quick that she'd had one but instead of pushing her to talk, Josh had handed her a guitar and told her to play.
"Take it out on the strings," he'd encouraged, patiently teaching her the chords and finger positions that eventually became her salvation. When she surpassed him with her abilities he'd happily invited her to join them on a Saturday afternoon in his parents basement. She lived for those days. The times she and this ragtag group of mostly guys would sit around on lumpy couches and write about heartbreak as if their high school hearts knew what that was.
"Hey," Lauren whispered, "Paul's on his way over. He didn't want anyone to tell you because he was afraid you'd split but I thought it was totally uncool to spring him on you. Especially now that you've got a new boyfriend and all."
"He's not my boyfriend, he's just a friend but thanks for the heads up. I was going to head home anyway. Ray wants to go up to Olympia to hike early in the morning." She'd have pulled an all-nighter if it meant jamming with her friends but with her ex-boyfriend coming over, she knew the time had come to pack it up because if she was here when Paul was here and Christian found out, there'd be hell to pay.
With care she packed up the sleek guitar and snapped the lid closed, refusing help from the others to carry it to her car. No way in hell she'd trust this gift to anyone. At the threshold, after hasty goodbyes and plans for them to come to Seattle to rehearse once she found a venue and booked a date, she froze when a body she knew well blocked her exit.
"Hello, Ana," he said softly, his eyes somewhere between happy, sad and pensive. He always tried to see her, always tried to get her alone so he could catch up with her but so far she'd been good at avoiding him. It wasn't that Paul Clayton deserved her avoidance because in truth, he had been nothing but good to her; it was that he knew too many of her secrets, had seen her at her weakest and had been the one to make her face her demons in a way neither of them had been ready for.
"Hi, Paul." She shifted the case to her other hand and pulled back a bit when he reached out to help her. "How are you?"
He sucked in a lungful of air and knotted his hands behind his neck. She was going to run again if he didn't keep his distance.
"I'm good. Got a job on the floor at the NYSE with UBS so I'll be heading out to New York on Thursday." He noticed the way her brows raised, the way her shoulders relaxed a bit, the way she bit that lip he'd kissed so many times before. God she's gorgeous. So beautiful and smart and talented and broken. So very broken.
And that was why she couldn't look him in the eyes for any length of time. That was why she kept her distance from him. Because he saw her as broken, always had, probably always would.
"That's awesome, Paul. You've been talking about that forever. What's your brother going to do?"
She's conversing with me? "He's already hired a new manager and dad said he'd put in some hours each weekend to fill in the blanks."
She laughed, Mr. Clayton would be more hindrance than help. "I'm happy for you, that's really great," she offered sincerely. He stood there, blue eyes burning into her, over her, through her. Paul Clayton knew more about her vulnerabilities than any other human being on this planet but not because she'd told him much. He'd seen, firsthand, the psychological damage she'd endured. It was he who had made her believe that not all men were out to hurt her. It had been him who'd proven that real men wait and it had been him who had shown her that sex was something to be shared and enjoyed.
"I should get going, early morning and all, you know how Ray is with his winter hikes…" her voice trailed off into the cold night air.
"What about you? How are you?" Don't go yet. I need to know that you're all right. He'd tried so hard to fix her, so hard to love her enough to put her broken pieces back together.
"I'm good. Great really. Living the dream in Seattle with Kate, I'm sure you remember her from my freshman year at UDub." He nodded with a smile. Kate Kavanagh had been the one to really draw Ana out of her shell. It had been her obnoxiousness that had somehow made Ana feel confident enough to speak up for herself. Where he'd hit the wall with Ana, Kate had crashed through it and pulled her through it.
"Anyway, I teach music there and volunteer at the Boys and Girls Club." She pointed backwards with her thumb, "And the guys and I are going to put on a small show sometime in the spring."
His brows lifted with surprise. "Really? That's awesome, you've been talking about doing that for years."
She took a deep breath and went for it. If he'd seen her at her worst, he deserved some of her best too. "I'm ready to face all of my fears head on."
Pride and affection swirled in his chest. "I'm proud of you, Ana. So fucking proud of you." For so many years he'd worried about her...
She blushed and let him hug her quickly before choking out a hasty goodbye. He walked her to the car where Sawyer stood, arms crossed, the thin line of his lips indicating his displeasure. Paul knew who he was, figured it was that hoity toity big shot she was dating in Seattle's bodyguard. He'd seen the picture of her and Christian Grey over morning coffee at his mothers house, the biscotti he'd been eating suddenly caught in his throat at the shock of it. The irony of the girl he loved dating the man he had idolized was not lost on him.
"Take care of yourself," he said, slamming her door shut before giving Sawyer a smirk.
Not three minutes later the ringtone she'd assigned Christian was blaring in her ear. Fuck. I knew this was going to be a problem.
"Merry Christmas, Christian!" she said cheerily in the hopes that he'd let the whole thing go.
"Just what the fuck are you playing at, Ana? Four hours in a basement with four men and then on your way out your ex-boyfriend conveniently shows up?"
"I left the minute I heard he was coming. I didn't engage him in a conversation and I left as soon as it wasn't rude to…wait a hot minute. I never told you who my ex-boyfriend was." She swung to the shoulder of the road and flicked on the hazards. Behind her Sawyer parked in the SUV he'd been following her in all day. She gave him time to say something but he remained silent on the other end while her mind went into high gear in an attempt to remember every conversation they'd ever had about her past.
"Christian. I never told you the name of any man I've been with."
"I don't need you to! Did you think I wasn't going to pull a background check on you, Ms. Steele?" He was pissed, anger and jealousy and fear whipping through him like the blood pounding in his veins. "I know all of their names except that last one. Do you think I'm a fool? Do you have any idea how many money grubbing women throw themselves at me on a daily basis?"
Anger had taken root in her chest, the force of it enough to make her hands tremble and her palms to sweat. The background check she could forgive, she was a rational person. Of course he'd have pulled one on her. But her ex-boyfriend? And her Doms?
"How dare you," she breathed, the words like fire against his ear. "How dare you invade my privacy like that. How dare you invade their privacy like that! You have no right looking them up." Panic flashed through her, what else did he know? "What else have you dug up on me, Mr. Grey?"
He felt her anxiety, heard the question behind the question and cursed himself for having lost control of the situation. The last thing he wanted was to make her upset with him. The worst thing she could do would be to close herself off from him by burying those secrets deeper.
"Nothing, Ana. I know absolutely nothing else of a personal nature and on that you have my word." The silence on the other end was deafening. "I want to know what it is you're hiding but not because of morbid curiosity. I want to know because I care about you and I want you to trust me."
She fought it hard but the anger ebbed into something manageable when the words soothed over her ears. He cares about me. She heard the truth in them, felt the compassion and the regret at having frightened her.
"I left when I knew he was coming, Christian."
He sighed, his fingers tight around the crystal tumbler that held what he hoped would offer him a good nights sleep. Surely the nightmares would be back now that he'd stared into the eyes of the woman who visited him there. I should never have gone upstairs to see her picture.
"Can you come back to Seattle tonight?" he sighed in defeat.
Oh God he's sad. She heard the melancholy even though he'd tried to mask it. "I can't, my father and I are hiking tomorrow and on Tuesday I'm meeting some friends for breakfast before I head back for my shift at the Club."
"Friends?" he spit out, afraid that her ex was one of those friends.
"Girlfriends, Christian." After a beat she pressed him, "Do you believe me that I left when I knew he was coming? Because you trusting me is just as important."
"Yes. I trust you, Ana." What he didn't trust was that Paul Clayton wasn't still trying to get her back into his bed.
He poured himself a double and sat on the edge of his bed. Damn I am so fucked up over this girl. For a moment he contemplated driving to her but then thought better of it, toeing off his socks in resignation.
"I can come by later on Tuesday after my time at the Club. It won't be until close to ten but"
"Fine. Ten is fine." Sweet relief washed over him. Two days. He could do two days.
"I'm sorry I can't be there tonight." She had to pull him out of the funk he was falling into. "I'd much rather sleep with you than Mr. Fancypants."
His brow quirked. "Mr. Fancypants?"
"My mother's cat. He's as old as I am almost and for whatever reason he's decided that he should sleep on my head whenever I'm home. So I wake up with swollen eyes, a congested nose and cat hair in my throat. You're much more pleasant to wake with."
He chuckled and tossed his pants and shirt into the hamper, climbing between the sheets with the phone against his ear, the scotch forgotten on the dresser across the room.
"Anyone else sleeping in that bed, Anastasia?"
"Nope, just me and Mr. Fancypants." The tension between them eeked its way south with each breath. "Did you have a nice time at your parent's?" He settled back onto the pillows, aware of how big and empty his bed felt around him.
"I did. They loved your cranberry walnut bread by the way. It got a better reception than the sapphires I'd bought my mother and sister. I could have saved myself sixty grand and paid you to bake instead."
She giggled, the sound of it soothing over those frayed edges from his day. "Speaking of which, you all but accused me of being a money grubbing woman not five minutes ago." She worked hard to keep the sharpness at bay but he'd struck a nerve.
"No, I said I had to protect myself from women like that. You, Ms. Steele, are the furthest thing from that kind of woman."
"You know who is that kind of chick?" she said with disdain.
"Yes, I do. Paulina." Together they shared a laugh at her expense. From the remote on his night table Christian flicked the lights off, putting the spotlight on the black and white photo of her laughing he'd purchased from the gallery opening.
So. Fucking. Beautiful.
Ana put the phone on speaker and pulled back onto the road to head home, Sawyer's car pulling right behind her. He heard her start to drive, knew he should hang up so that she wouldn't be distracted but kept talking anyway. He'd come to expect this nightly conversation as much as he'd come to expect the texts they shared back and forth all day long.
"She is the epitome of a gold digger. Elliot dumped her. His word, not mine."
"Oh yeah?" She didn't even try to disguise her glee. "Good, she was a pariah."
He laughed and closed his eyes. Damn he was tired all of the sudden. It didn't help that he'd slept for no more than an hour last night but he just couldn't stop listening to that cd.
"She was. He said she must have known she'd fucked up because as soon as they were in the car she went down on him. Or tried to at least. He was so pissed off he pushed her off, dropped her in front of her house and told her to lose his number and not to be crass but for Elliot to turn down head is a pretty big deal."
"Does he always date women like that?"
"Pretty much. I suspect one day he'll give a shit about who he spends his time with." Christian had often felt badly for the time that Elliot put into a woman only to find out that she was after nothing more than the Grey name, the money or, as was too often, the little brother. Elliot hadn't really seemed to mind when he could use his name or connection to Christian to get himself a good lay but Paulina had crossed the line by insulting the one woman that could potentially heal the Grey family.
By the time Ana pulled in the driveway he knew every gift she'd received and every gift she'd given. She'd promised to make some more bread for his mother and made him promise to ask her what she could bring to the party even though he told her over and over that it was a catered affair and that nobody was bringing anything. In his circle, people didn't do that kind of nice neighborly stuff.
He found it endearing.
A door slammed in the background as she got out of the car, a muffled, 'Good night, Ma'am' from Sawyer giving Christian the peace of mind to let go. "I'm home. Locked up and headed to bed."
Good, because he was halfway out already. What time was it anyway? Barely midnight. Shit, Mia's right, I am an old man.
It had been one hell of a week between year end, the fiasco that was becoming the Mexico City project and the media presence of one Paulina Dubrovnik.
Scorned by Elliot and having hit a brick wall with Christian she did all she could to stay relevant to the paparazzi, first by being seen making out with Dave Navarro and when that generated exactly zero interest she started talking about her double date with Christian and Ana. Which had gone too far considering she'd signed an NDA even if she did think she was above it.
By Wednesday she'd been slapped with a breach of contract lawsuit by one Grey brother and a slander suit by another but Paulina Dubrovnik wasn't finished yet. Whether it was a mental illness or plain brass balls Luke Sawyer couldn't tell but there she stood outside of Ana's studio begging him to let her in so she could just talk, just explain some things, just work on the friendship they'd started. He suppressed an eye roll but couldn't help the chuckle.
Sawyer took her in, all 5' 11" of her and let himself imagine those long legs up around his shoulders and basked in the one perk of his job thus far. The women who threw themselves at these Grey guys may be crazy but they sure were a fine looking piece of ass. Another few fantasy seconds won't hurt. So he'd let her babble on while he pictured his dick sliding in and out of her collagen lips, all the while nodding and 'mmmhmming' at just the right moments. But then she'd gone and offered herself up on a platter if only she could speak to Ana for a few seconds and the fantasy was blown to bits. Well damn.
This gig had started out easy enough. Follow the nice pretty girl around, ensure nobody tries to kidnap her or hit on her and sit. And sit. And sit. As much as he liked Anastasia Steele, protecting her was boring as hell. He got it, she was seen with a billionaire and therefore would be a target of either the media's or some crazy extortionist but even the paparazzi had proven to be nothing more than a minor headache. And even though this little blip with the model was nothing in the scheme of things he'd been ready to take the bitch out just for a little excitement.
Now here he was, her harsh Russian/New England/pseudo New York accent yapping away in his ear while he waited for Welch's team to come and take her away to the looney bin. For fucks sake, if I had wanted this, I would've stayed married to Kim even if she was fucking her personal trainer while I was getting shot at half a world away.
By the time Ana got to Escala on Friday her nerves were shot to shit and her body was on fire. Claude had upped her daily workouts by a half an hour which translated into less sleep and more soreness but Christian felt it was imperitive that she learn basic self defence on top of her workouts. It had been foolish of her to go to her Pilates class after Bastille had put her through the ringer but she'd missed her friends so much that she'd suffered through it, her sides burning from laughing so hard.
If that hadn't been bad enough, she'd endured a never ending stream of phone calls from media outlets who were looking for a response to the interviews that Paulina had granted before she'd all of the sudden up and disappeared two days ago. Ana politely directed all calls to the PR team at GEH just as she had been instructed to do but after receiving a call from Tokyo at three in the morning, she'd relented and had agreed to have her calls forwarded.
Christian had sent over a new phone along with a new number and a $2k bottle of wine as an apology for her trouble. She and Kate had drunk it the night before with a $9 pizza and two Klondike Bars while watching reruns of Modern Family until midnight.
But what she really screwed up on was going to Franco's for a wax after work today.
Absolute stupidity, she chastised herself as the elevator doors opened to Gail standing there with a smile and a glass of wine. I could get used to this.
"Hello, Mrs. Taylor."
"Good evening, Ms. Steele. Mr. Grey asked that I let you know that he's been called down to Portland for an emergency meeting that couldn't be put off."
She took a deep breath and released it slowly as she drank the rich Merlot. Was there any part of her that wasn't hurting today?
"Thank you for telling me. I received his text as well a few minutes ago. Did he mention to you when he would be back?"
"No," Gail answered, turning to go back to the kitchen where shortribs and polenta were waiting to be consumed. "I'm afraid he didn't but he just left in Charlie Tango a half hour ago so I would think he wouldn't be back until much later."
"Charlie Tango?" she asked, wincing as she sat on the stool.
"Mr. Grey's helicopter. He keeps it at SeaTac but there are landing pads on this building and also at GEH."
Of course he has a helicopter. Bet he has a jet too.
"Is Mr. Taylor with him?"
"Yes, he is."
"Then have dinner with me. We can get to know each other. I feel like you know so much about me but I know practically nothing about you."
Gail Taylor blushed and then took a good look at the young woman in front of her. From the minute Ana had walked in the door she knew that this girl was different. Mr. Grey's demands over the last two months came as no surprise to her, she'd known from the start that Anastasia was a game changer. Suddenly he cared what she was serving on Friday nights and was concerned that certain snack foods be kept in the apartment so that Ms. Steele would have what she wanted at any time. He'd always been kind to her but he'd never really engaged her in matters outside of running his home but lately he'd taken an interest in the flowers she chose to dress the foyer with, the scented candles he suddenly wanted in each room and the blankets he wanted kept in the library.
She'd been shocked to find that he was sleeping in the submissive bedroom and shocked again when she had heard him laughing freely at something Ana and he had been talking about. The media room was being used, the fireplace was always on and the sounds of the piano were few and far between during the night anymore.
She'd seen a number of women walk through those doors over the years. All brunette, all slim, all fair skinned, all vying for the attention of their Sir. Some had been pleasant, some had been downright horrible but none of them, not one had come close to breaking through the guards Mr. Grey had built around his heart.
Until Ana.
"I'd love to have dinner with you, Ms. Steele."
"Please call me Ana," she pleaded.
"Only if you call me Gail when it's just us."
"Deal," she said conspiratorially.
They ate at the breakfast bar and chatted about Gail's first husband and subsequent marriage to Jason. Ana was surprised to learn that they had met on the job and that Christian had been the one to facilitate their elopement and honeymoon a few years back. She paid attention to details and did all she could to learn more information about what Christian had been like before her but Gail Taylor wasn't about to spill his secrets. Which was just as well because by the end of dinner, the women were laughing about ex-boyfriends and the universal stupid shit men do.
At nine dinner had been cleaned up and the women had changed into pajamas when Ana's phone dinged with a text.
-Still here. Assholes can't seem to understand the meaning of fiscal year end. I'll text when we're ready to hit the air.
+I understand. I'm sorry you have to deal with this but I'll be here when you get back, whenever that may be.
-I want you in bed, wet and naked when I come home.
+Yes, Sir.
-I'd also like to remind you that my Christmas present is being cashed in as of midnight tonight.
+I remember. Looking forward to it, Sir.
She signed off and grabbed the bowl of popcorn, following Gail down to the media room where they had cued up a movie.
"I have to say, I haven't had a girls night in forever. I've thoroughly enjoyed myself, Ana." And she had. It was easy to see why Christian had fallen for this young woman even if he hadn't figured that out yet.
"Fucking idiots every single one of you. It's ten pm on the god damned last business day of the fucking year and you still haven't finalized the balance sheet. Where the fuck are your long term liabilities? Where's your COGS?" He was on a rampage. Around him paper flew, coffee cups were snatched up just in the nick of time before being thrown across the room and angry tirades sliced through men and women alike.
Andrea had done all she could to prepare the staff at Levoro when word came down from Ros that their books were incomplete and therefore couldn't be relied on to close out the year which was catastrophic since their merger with Scape had been scheduled for today at ten am. Twelve hours ago. Management had gotten the phone call at close of business the day before and had spent the last 30 hours attempting to get their shit together but their efforts had come too little, too late. So when Christian Grey's direct assistant called to inform them that he would be arriving by seven that evening, they knew shit was about to hit the fan so they'd done all they could to prepare.
But nothing, no amount of pleasantries or high end pastries or blatant ass kissing could have prepared them for the wrath of Christian Grey. They'd heard about it, had thought they'd seen it three months ago when they'd dropped the ball on the first appendix of the merger documents but nothing, absolutely nothing compared to what they were dealing with now.
The women who had primped and swooned when he first walked in were ragged and disheveled, eyes void of mascara after having cried in the bathroom at least once a piece, sometimes next to their male counterparts who were doing the same thing. The man wasn't just angry, he was downright mean.
It wasn't that he cared about a last minute business meeting. It wasn't that he was upset to have had to have flown Charlie Tango. It was that in his apartment, waiting for him under sheets of silk was a woman who dripped with feminine sin and these fuckers were keeping him from her.
"You, Connors," he pointed to the overweight man in the corner who had thus far proven to be the smartest of them.
"It's Conover, Sir."
"Whatever." He dismissed the correction with a wave. "Scan these over to the NY office and to GEH's legal department, someone has been there all fucking night to assist your team, and then call the rest of the staff in."
Conover scurried off as fast as he could, sweat pooling between the creases of his back. This wasn't good at all. He'd told them over and over that they needed to haul ass and get this done right the first time but nobody listened to him. Nobody ever listened to him and now he was going to get fired for it.
Christian took the moment of silence and texted Ana, pleased that she wasn't angry and more pleased that she'd be waiting for him. He was going to need a nice, hard, dirty fuck much like the one they'd shared in the playroom Tuesday night. Impatiently his dick twitched at the memory of her alabaster skin striped red where he'd taken the crop to it while she'd been restrained with a spreader bar over the bench. Despite his surroundings and the mounting frustration he was battling he couldn't help but grin when he thought of her. She'd been a bit hesitant to have her hands bound with electrical tape but...well, to say she'd enjoyed it in the end wouldn't be doing her orgasm justice.
"Black," he snapped at the young girl who had come in to ask if he'd like a coffee. What was her name? Sally? Susan? Sheryl? When she came back he asked her, her brown eyes blinking at him in surprise.
"Stephanie Perault, Sir."
"I don't see your name anywhere on these forms."
"No, Sir. I'm an intern." He hid his surprise. He'd ranted and raged at her along with the others but she hadn't cowered or stuttered out an apology. No more than 21 if he had to guess.
"Are you on payroll?" He took the coffee and sipped it, his fingers flipping through documents with alacrity.
"No, Sir."
He stopped, one brow raised and put the mug down onto the walnut tabletop. "You aren't on payroll, you're here after ten on the Friday before New Years and you've been the one doing all of the grunt work."
"Yes, Sir. I realize that this issue isn't my doing and that my presence isn't required but if I may be so bold as to say that your misfortune is a great learning tool for me." That one brow popped up further, her heart racing at the implication that she'd pissed him off. "Not that I want you to be angry but, well, this is a good lesson on what not to do."
Gray eyes assessed her from head to toe, his CEO mind sharp even after a 90 hour work week and a cumulative two hours of sleep the night before. "Ever been to Spokane, Ms. Perault?"
"Yes, Sir," she smiled back. "Born and raised."
Good to know.
Conover entered first, holding the door open for the team as they filed in, heads down, faces flushed with fear. Not one of them said thank you to him.
Once the room was filled with the sniveling, groveling, blame shifting cheap suit executives Christian stood, rolled his sleeves down, buttoned them and then reached for his jacket, slung over the back of his chair.
"There are nineteen of you. Nineteen Ivy League graduates in this room and only one of you did your job correctly. Conover," he shot out, his gray eyes finding the man across the room, "You're being promoted to the Spokane office. You have one week from Monday to arrange your personal issues."
He looked around until he found the intern. "Ms. Perault you are being offered an administrative position with the logistical team also a week from Monday, also in Spokane." Around him the group began to fidget with hope, each of them wondering what promotion they were about to be receive.
"The rest of you are fired as of this minute. Happy New Year." And then he was gone, Taylor hot on his heels and just as anxious to get home to the soft woman he'd made his wife two years ago. Lord knew he needed a little tenderness after that scene.
The lights were off except for the cinnamon candle Gail had left lit on the kitchen counter. Christian shucked off his suit jacket and chuckled at it. A candle. A cinnamon candle. In his apartment. Ana had said it was her favorite holiday scent so he'd sent Andrea to Niemen's last week to find a few. After one last inhalation he blew it out before going to his room to brush his teeth and strip out of his clothes.
In nothing but a towel he rushed up the stairs, his body primed and ready to wake her up for a good session in the playroom. Man did he need to fuck and fuck hard. The aggression, the tension, the annoyance was simmering inside just waiting for a release.
Maybe I'll break out the whip tonight. His cock went from hard to rock hard at the thought.
Ana's room was dark except for the winter moon that cast everything in a soft bluish haze. She'd fallen asleep on her back, her arms above her head, hair splayed over the white pillow. For a moment he just looked at her, reveled in the fact that she was here and well and his. Slowly he pulled the cover down revealing tender curves and hidden treasures, his eyes feasting on her pink nipples and the cleft between her legs before temptation called too strongly and he joined her.
The heat of her body, so warm and inviting called him closer, the scent of her skin begging him to nuzzle against it. Her lashes fluttered when he rested his body over hers, his elbows bearing the majority of his weight as he hovered there, lips grazing hers as he willed her to wake. It was all so gentle, so sweet, so calm.
But then her eyes flew open, the depth of fear deeper than anything he'd ever known. Her hands pushed against him to get him off even as her body twisted to get away and her scream filled the room with a terror so visceral it cut him in half. Out of bed he flew, his hands outstretched, heart hammering in his chest, eyes wide with regret.
You fucking idiot!
She stopped as sleep faded and reality set in clinging to the blanket as if it were a shield. Silent seconds ticked by as she fought back the demons but the fear that always lingered gripped her tightly. He watched with total broken helplessness as her shoulders slumped and then began to shake as tears streamed down her face in never ending rivulets.
"Shit, Ana…I didn't think…I thought you'd known I was coming in…I…I'd never..." His feet shuffled forward but he stopped them, his arms aching to comfort her. "Can I come to you?" he asked weakly, his shoulders trembling as the adrenaline wore off.
She nodded once, her tears falling faster than she could wipe them away. In one fell swoop he'd picked her up and sat in her place, his back against the headboard, her body over his so that he could tuck her head under his chin. For a long time they sat just like that, his hand smoothing over her back and hair, his voice shushing her with promises of safety and protection as she burrowed deeper into the security of his embrace.
When the tears faded away to nothing more than the occasional shiver, embarrassment and shame crept in. She had known he was coming but that hadn't stopped the dreams from coming so when she felt his breath on her face and the hardness between his legs she'd panicked.
"I'm so sorry, Christian," she started but he stopped her, one finger over her lips.
"Never, Ana. Never, ever apologize to me for this." He felt another tear fall onto his arm where it held her tightly to him. I will personally kill every last person who did this. Slowly and painfully. "You hold no blame here. No shame, no guilt. Don't you ever apologize for it." She shuddered and pressed her face into the hollow of his neck, the wetness of her tears searing into his skin. There will be no mercy when I found out who did this to her. Death will bring relief.
In the safety of his arms she began to tremble as it all came crashing down but Christian held her tight and waited for the terror to pass. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his neck where she clung to him, the small bite of pain keeping him grounded to her instead of flying off into the rage he was suppressing. Instead of asking the questions that danced on his tongue he gentled her and rocked her, holding her as close as he could. When at last her breathing had returned to normal and her tears were no more than hiccups he let his arms drop so that he could see her.
"You ok, baby?" he'd asked her softly, tipping her chin up with the tip of one finger.
Did he call me baby? And why does that make me so happy and so…secure?
With a nod she closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened again at his tenderness as his thumbs swept over her jaw.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," she scoffed. "I most definitely do not want to talk about it."
He leaned back and resisted the urge to pull his hair. Did she not understand how powerful he was? Did she not realize that he had armies of people who could help her? Did she not know that he would do anything to keep her safe in both body and mind?
"I'm ok now," she said on a hiccup as she sat up and wiped her eyes on the sheet. "It just caught me off guard that's all."
He let her go, the void against his chest painful. He stood, got her a glass of water and a wet cloth to wipe her tearstained face with. The sight of those salty tracks down her cheeks were too much for him to bear witness to so he sat on the bed and dug his palms against his eyes. He felt her shift to her knees in front of him, one hand reaching out to hold onto his.
"Thank you for sitting with me." Her voice was so small, so weak, so needy. He opened his eyes and saw her vulnerability staring back at him.
"I was glad to do it," he said with such sincerity that she felt the truth of it settle on her skin like a blanket. "Tell me, Ana, what do you need? How can I help you? What can I do?"
She gave him a smile and leaned towards him for a kiss, her lips grazing the stubbled skin of his jaw.
You, I just need you.
"Make me forget," she whispered as her hand trailed up from his knee, leaving fire in its wake.
Logically it felt wrong to want her right now, wrong to groan when her hand closed over him and stroked upwards, wrong to wrap his hands around her head and lick the inside of her mouth when she finally gave it to him but then she'd whispered it again with an urgency he understood, the protector in him answering the need in her.
"Please," she begged, her heart bursting with a million different emotions. He hesitated even as he grew hard in her palm. "Please, Christian," she whimpered once more, her thumb swirling the drop of moisture that beaded at the tip of his cock.
"Are you sure?" he huffed out, sliding her beneath him again, careful not to frighten her. "I don't know if we should." It was the most honest he could be. Where was the line between helping and taking advantage? Was this need in her? Or guilt? Was this her way of fighting back or was this born out of shame? "Ana..." he said between gentle kisses to her eyes and mouth, "I don't...don't do this for me, baby."
God he was going to rip her apart if he kept caring for her like this. Her legs drew him closer so that he rested on her belly, his hard heat wreaking havoc on her libido. "I'm not. It's not for you," she panted out the truth, the exposure sure to kill her. She needed him. Needed him. "Please..."
He moved lower so that the length of him rested within her sex. "You're sure?" he asked again, his body answering her cries on its own.
"I'm sure," she heaved, her mind in desperate need of the sweet oblivion this man could give her. With a roll of her hips she touched him with her wetness, his answering gasp exactly what she wanted. "I'm sure…I'm sure…I'm sure…"
When his mouth closed on the spot beneath her ear that made her squirm she begged, pleaded, scratched at his hips to draw him closer, gripped his cock in her hand to entice him in but still he held himself back as he fought to figure out what was right. She stilled, her hands dropping to her sides.
"Please," she whispered, her eyes burning into his only inches away. "Please. I need you. I need to feel you. I need you to want me."
With a tenderness he didn't know he possessed he kissed her lips and breached her entrance as his hands found hers.
"I always want you, Ana." Slick and hot he slid in until he could go no further. "I've wanted you from the first time I saw you," he breathed into her mouth as he glided out and then back in. "I'll want you until the day I die."
She felt it then, that part of her she'd hidden so carefully, that place in her soul she'd saved for herself…it came to life and reached for the man who held her so closely and kissed her so gently. The pain of it, the realization that she needed a man so emotionally out of reach was enough to elicit a strangled cry but then he'd kissed her eyelids and tasted her tears on his lips.
"Shhh, baby. I've got you," he said, the grip of his fingers around hers tightening as he rested his chest against hers. "Nothing will happen to you, Ana," he moved his hips in small circles, the rest of his body still on top of hers. "I will never let anyone hurt you." He pressed his forehead to hers and squeezed his eyes shut. "Let me take care of you."
She was spiraling towards the unknown. It was one thing to willingly give your body to another. Another to give your time. But to entrust someone with your spirit, the very essence of who you are…
"Yes," she gasped as the pleasure peaked.
"Look at me!" he said firmly, her eyes glazing over to find his. He was so close to her in so many ways but she wanted more, her legs wrapping around him just as she cried out. He held on through the clenching, gritted his teeth through the spasms and then buried his face in her neck letting go when she moaned his name.
With monumental effort he moved behind her on the bed, pulling her as close to him as he could when he wrapped his arms around her. Against the strength of his body she relaxed, the surety of her security in him complete. Pressing his lips into her hair he made a silent vow.
He would protect her, shield her, defend her, and avenge her. Tomorrow he'd demand that Welch find out everything no matter how illegal the channels were, no matter how much money it cost. Never again would she wake in fear, never again would she cower like a child in her own bed.
"This is not the way I wanted you to end a stressful day," she sighed, her fingers running over his forearm where he held her.
"That was amazing, Ana. And outside of terrifying you, that was exactly what I needed." And it was true. As much as he thought he'd needed something harsh and extreme after the week he'd had, it had been her clinging to him that had chased the day away.
"But I was a mess."
"You were beautiful and brave." In his embrace she sighed, tilting her head towards his when he kissed her temple again. "Now sleep and know that nothing will ever hurt you again."