Oh where to start. First off, I am so sorry for my prolonged absence. My husband and I ended up losing our pregnancy and that's been the largest factor. Second, I'm sorry for all of the neglected messages currently sitting in my inbox. I haven't intentionally been ignoring you. This is the first time I've logged on for a very long time. I plan to answer each and every one tonight! Thank you all so much for your reviews. Those I will be going through tonight too. This chapter is in CG's pov. I'm sorry for mistakes. If you want to correct anything please do so in your review or in a message. I'm grateful either way! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Christian's reasoning for entering the arrangement will be delivered in a later chapter and its coming soon. I'm not entirely confident in this chapter. It's taken me a while to get back into the groove of writing and I'm not sure I'm there yet.
Chapter 10
Christian paced the floor of his condo feeling like his whole body might explode from frustration and that was after the sex he just had. He gritted his teeth remembering Ana beneath him. What the fuck was he thinking?
He grabbed his phone and with pissed off fingers dialed Sawyer.
"Sir?"
"Follow Ana and make sure she gets home safely."
"Of course." Sawyer replied with his routine professional manner.
Christian tightened his hand around his phone wanting to throw the damn thing. She left and for the exact reason he assumed she would. It's what stopped him from fucking her in the kitchen the night before. The way she kissed him forced realizations on him that the way he liked sex is too rough for her. Or so he thought. Fuck, he could still smell her. Her scent was all over him. He wanted to claw his fucking skin off. His hand found its way to the scratches she left and he hissed as he touched them. What she did shocked the hell out of him and for once not having control didn't bring bone-crushing anxiety. Ana wasn't the type of person to throw it in his face and as much as he's vilianized her to cater to his own needs even he couldn't deny that she had a heart the size of his empire.
His phone ringing sent a measure of hope through him but seeing that it wasn't Ana instigated more anger.
"What?" He barked.
"Sir, she's not going home. She has parked outside of an apartment. It looks like a duplex and there are no signs of anyone else inside."
"Where is it?"
"Off of Ranier ave."
"You have to be fucking kidding me. I don't want her out of your sight!"
Christian hung up, his body aching for a release that he could only find one way and it no longer satisfied him to be with anyone. He only wanted one person who currently was at a shitty duplex in one of the worst neighborhoods in fucking Seattle. Flipping his phone over back and forth in his hand, he hated what he was about to do but he had to know.
"Ros, I want all of Anastasia Steele's financials for the past two years." He insisted when Ros answered.
"I can do five."
"Just send two. I'll request more if I need it."
"Done." His highly trusted investigator replied with excitement. Ros thrived on breaking privacy like he did gaining power.
Christian moved to his study trying to fight off the incoming symptoms of a headache. He contemplated calling Ana but then part of him expected her to call first. He never chased a woman. He's never had to but he also never feared any of them would leave. Did he punish her? No. Christian shook his head though knowing that lying to himself did nothing. He punished her for Leila, for her lying about being pregnant hoping he'd leave Ana and permanently be with her. But he didn't do permanent. He hardly did contractual.. It's why they never lasted long. All he needed was a vessel, a sex toy to play with that abided by his rules. Ana, though, made the idea seem debatable and she created a hunger in him, a craving…for her. Only her.
There isn't a moment he could say that defined that craving. Possibly her caring for him in the cabin and the extension of that merging its way into the shower. She touched him so gently like she was worshipping a painting and it didn't make his skin crawl. It made him feel wanted, cherished in a way he had never experienced. She made years of his body being neglected by touch feel resolved in a few minutes. He allowed the women he played with to touch them because he offered them no other form of intimacy during sex. For little time, he held them as he supposed he should have after the act but it was like wading through dirty water. He cringed the entire time but kept wading until he reached the other side. None of it was enjoyable; it was just a means to an end.
He learned superficial things about her during their stay at the cabin. She hated sleeping in complete darkness. There always needed to be a glow in their room otherwise she ended up restless, her toes curling and uncurling nervously until he had to force her to tell him what was wrong. During awkward scenes in movies, she hid under the blanket until it was over, sometimes allowing one eye to peek out before jerking the blanket back up to blind her vision. She also had an overactive imagination. The scenarios she imagined him in while he was hiking were signs that she had seen too many movies. Amusement lifted a smile from him as he remembered her quirks. They made her utterly charming…Ana.
The sound of an incoming email caught his attention and he opened it aware of the content. Ana's financials for the past two years opened in PDF format and he scrolled through. Shock hit him hard as he saw the little money she had considering her family and the wealth he assumed they contained. There was one consistent debit every month of a thousand dollars. He emailed Ros to find out the recipient. Then the past two months drew his attention. Her prior activity lacked any flamboyant charges or shopping sprees besides the occasional splurge at the same art store she visited. But the past two months, she spent more money combined than the last year that dwindled almost half of her savings. They were all at clothing stores and boutiques and he realized the lifestyle he assumed she could afford was evidently not the case. Why wouldn't she ask for money? He also had the account at Saks that she could use. An unfamiliar ache, pain almost, started to radiate through him uncomfortably. Another consistent debit for the same amount had been withdrawn twice in the past two months and he had a feeling it was for the duplex but he refused to believe it. If the cost was any evidence of the value or state of the apartment, he didn't want to fucking know.
The email he was waiting for finally came and he opened it only to feel that pain grow in its intensity. The check she regularly wrote every month for the past two years was a rent check to her father and he also had a sneaking suspicion she'd been paying longer than that.
Fuck. Ana was as honest and kind as he was afraid she might be. It slapped him in the face. Christian dealt better with manipulative women, women with an agenda but women like Ana he couldn't determine their actions because he had trouble anticipating them and comprehending that sometimes there is no threat or ill intent with an action. At 4 was when he realized that people were flawed. At 6, that people were full of empty promises, and that no one could be trusted. After being adopted, some of his contemptuous views had been tested especially by his mother, Grace but more often than not she wasn't enough. People tended to prove his choice of distrustful nature right. It's why increasingly he's lost control since knowing her. He'd been battling someone he thought to be agenda driven but quickly that portrait blurred. And God having her in bed. She was absolutely perfect, reserved yet comfortable with her body and sexuality. Women who advertised their sexuality like a Times Square billboard had no appeal to him. Ana made him work for it and when he turned her ravenous, when she let go and submitted to him it was the most resplendent gift. Ever. Well, until she flipped the tables and stole her orgasm from him. He really wanted to spank the shit out of her then.
"Fuck!" He growled. He did spank her. He praised himself on his ability of self-control but Ana tested him. Every time she kissed him, he thought the restraint might kill him not to fuck her and at some point he became afraid of what she would think about his needs. At some point the need to keep her outweighed the desire to have her. And that had never happened before.
Leaning back in his chair, Christian stared at the glowing computer screen almost offensive with its condescending truth glaring at him.
You're an ass Grey.
Yes. Yes, he was. That was going to change though. All he needed was to make sure she stayed.
Christian entered his office the next day in a foul mood. Ana avoided every means of communication that he tried: email, phone, and text. He was giving her until noon before he stormed that damn apartment. His only saving grace was the two meetings he had before then. His meeting prep stole most of his attention and served as the distraction he needed. After his second meeting as it neared noon, his anxiety regarding Ana returned.
"You have a visitor waiting in your office." Andrea warned stopping him as he reached the door.
"Why are they in my office?"
"It's Ana's grandmother." She explained.
"Oh." He dismissed his entourage of lawyers and consultants before adjusting his tie. Great, Ana sent her Grandmother to call off their engagement. As he stepped into his office, he fought his body's desire to head to the bar. Ana's grandmother sat quietly in one of the chairs across his desk. She stood when he cleared his throat.
"Christian, I'm Ana's grandmother Greta. It's very nice to meet you finally although I'm disappointed it's taken this long."
"I'm sorry we haven't met sooner." He replied shaking her hand. Her stance contained full confidence, her chin raised with a specific level of defiance and he assumed it related to his wealth. Dressed in jeans and a turtleneck, her face void of makeup and her hair pulled back in a simple bun, she vowed to have nothing to prove. Her hands bore the signs of physical labor and he knew his stature meant nothing in this conversation.
"Ah nonetheless, this is a perfect time."
"I agree."
"As I'm sure you know, Ana's father has been struggling with his loss and with Ana leaving him soon also, it's made him considerably worse. I'm staying to help get him under control and also until the wedding of course." Christian remained stoic but he felt guilty. For someone who prided himself on his aptitude for reading people, he'd done a damn good job neglecting Ana.
"I'm glad."
"I would like you to get Ana out of the house. It's not healthy for her there right now. I know you both agreed to move into your home after the wedding but I need you to reconsider." Fuck, he wished it were that easy.
"Of course, our estate has a week left of renovations but my apartment is more than suitable." He answered knowing that none of it was guaranteed.
The way, in which Greta straightened in her chair, he prepared himself. She shifted and cleared her throat not showing fear but more a tenacity for what she was about to say.
"Personally, I do not approve of this wedding happening so quickly. Ana isn't happy nor is she ready. This is by no means a reflection of how I view you but as her grandmother, her well-being is my first priority. I just don't want her to do something at a time where she's so emotional."
"I understand." And to some extent he did. Now as he viewed the past months with a clearer, less biased head, he could see her need for the distractions of this arrangement. She was hiding behind the busy schedules, his demands, their home, and wedding details. Truly, he'd given her an escape.
Wonderland.
During one of their conversations at his cabin, her love for the story emerged. She talked about it often that Alice needed an escape for her boredom. What she created was a world that tested her, that interested her, and that eventually taught her how to appreciate the tame world she lived in. It was imagination at its finest; she always said. The brain's way to sub consciously self-preserve one's sanity. He had to wonder at which chapter of this story; she'd face her loss, if she ever did.
"I just want her to be happy. It's been a very long time since I've seen her that way."
"I want the same thing. If there is any way else I can help, please let me know."
"You have done so much already." Her statement had more admiration than what the situation required. She continued despite his confusion. "Their home." She prompted.
"My son was terrified to lose their home and I just can't thank you enough for your help. It would have been a crushing loss on top of the one they both just had." Clarity dawned on Christian then at least the version he was creating in his head.
"I'm glad for them both." He replied not wanting to lie but also not wanting to encourage suspicion because he had in mind exactly who "helped" with the Steele home. "Right now, our schedule has a trip to New York tomorrow after the bridal shower for a charity dinner Saturday and I'll make arrangements for her things to be moved into our home."
"I'd appreciate that. I don't know you very well. Ana has been resistant this morning to offer details besides the obvious fact that she is pissed at you. My granddaughter I know can be stubborn and irritatingly emotional at times but she's also the most forgiving and loving person I know. That's her mother in her, not me. I am less forgiving so if I find that you have harmed Ana in any way, if you are isolating her, I will come for her. And I'll make damn sure to remove the problem." Greta threatened with a sweet smile.
"I have no plans to harm or isolate Ana." He reassured her and that seemed to be a sufficient reply.
"Thank you." He stood at the cue of Greta standing. "I'm sorry to have intruded on business but I love my granddaughter."
"I completely understand."
"Oh and Christian…" Greta called from his office door. "Just remember, I taught Ana to shoot and she has a damn good eye."
"That actually doesn't surprise me." He countered and she left with a smile of pride but he was shaking with his restraint.
Anxiety and fear were foreign emotions for him but both threatened to strangle the air from his lungs as he sped to his father's home. You know, he was a selfish bastard most of the time but not so dehumanized that he would take advantage of a family as his father did. His blood pumped viciously and drowned his head with a symphonic rhythm. The closer he got, the tighter his fists gripped the steering wheel and the more he felt his body tighten.
Christian stormed into his home grateful his mother wasn't home. Barging into his father's study, he had a fist balled and ready swinging as soon as Carrick stood to greet him. The sound of his fist meeting his father's jaw reverberated all around him echoing in his ears until some of the tension uncoiled from his body. Stumbling, Carrick grabbed for his desk to steady himself, wiping the blood from his lip with a shaky hand before righting himself.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Christian roared as he began to pace the carpet of the study.
"She told you." Carrick replied and Christian stilled narrowing his eyes at his father and battling the urge to keep his hands to himself.
"No. I've just finally deciphered this fucking mess."
"Everything I've done and will continue to do is for you."
"What about Ana?" He growled.
"What about her?"
"She just lost her mother!"
"And how well have you been comforting her about that?"
"What's that supposed to mean? "Christian questioned as he shoved a chair out of his way to get closer to his father.
"I mean, don't come in here and expect to blame me for your mistakes and for your guilt."
"I wouldn't have any if you left her alone."
"You wouldn't have her! And if you want to keep her I suggest you change your god damn attitude."
"Why do you care?"
"I handpicked her specifically for you." Carrick answered with such conviction, it forced him to step back.
"When?"
"When what?" Christian sat preparing his question.
"When did you pick her?" Carrick stared at him and the study around them as if he wasn't sure if this moment was here already. His father moved to the bar, pouring them both scotch before returning to his desk. He wiped at the blood lining his swollen lip as he sat.
"A year and a half ago. I was visiting a friend at Cornish, one of the art professors. I stumbled upon Ana giving her Senior presentation. She had painted this magnificent piece that reminded me of the Temptation piece you're so fascinated with and the juxtaposition she created. I remember so clearly what she said. 'I painted a faceless person fighting their demons because we give them our face, our identity for the time that they haunt us. But I placed this person above every single one of them because we will always be the most powerful entity in our lives, always in the position to regain control.' She had such an optimism that reminded me of your mother, an intelligence I knew you'd enjoy, and a beauty I knew would appeal to you."
"And what? You thought I fucking needed her?" He snapped.
"I think I've been proven right." Christian's lips thinned. He did need her. It was no longer about desire. He'd do anything to keep her, short of murder and that still wasn't a certainty he would bank his money on.
"So you just bided your time until you were presented with an opportunity?"
"You and I both know that being successful, you take advantage of opportunities. You remain patient and wait for the perfect time."
"You are a selfish son of a bitch."
"I am." He agreed without shame. "I'd do anything for any of my children and your mother. I am selfish in that way."
"Don't try to justify it! Why didn't you just tell me the truth to why she agreed?"
"She wanted to spare her father some dignity." Christian snapped his mouth shut at that reply knowing he had no argument. That, he could completely understand. Men, like them, despised appearing weak. It placed their positions in jeopardy. In their world, there was always someone waiting to take the throne so you guard it and you have people in your life that will do the same.
"Stay away from her! I'll have a check to you by the end of the day." He growled before storming out. His head pounded incessantly with a headache as he navigated the halls by memory.
"Christian! Good, I've wanted to talk to you!"
"Now now Mom."
"It's about Ana. It'll only take a sec."
Christian took a deep breath and turned away from the front door heading towards the kitchen where his mother began to unpack groceries.
"Oh honey, you look terrible. Have you not been sleeping?"
"Long night."
"Well I just wanted to ask about Ana. She seemed sad after the dress fitting which is understandable…"
"Understandable?" Christian cut in and his mother turned towards him with a measured expression as if she wasn't sure if his question was real or not.
"Because of her mother." She lilted slowly before putting down the vegetables she was holding. "This wedding has to be so hard on her. I'm sure she always envisioned her mother with her and I think the dress fitting might've taken a toll on her."
"Fuck." Christian hung his head, his hands combing through his hair roughly.
"Oh Christian…" He clenched his jaw at the disappointed sigh of his name.
"I know Mom." He answered. Man, the universe was raining guilt on him like a fucking criminal.
"I have to go. I'll take care of it."
Christian drove to Ana's secret apartment in a cloud of discontent and fear, fear he hadn't felt since he was a child. He couldn't lose her and he damn well couldn't watch her be with someone else. Tomas Luis sounded through his car, the Alma Redemptoris track fitting for his mood. Ana held a similar admiration for Renaissance pieces both in art and music but considering her mother was an expert on the subject, it shouldn't have surprised him but it did. Their conversations, barely void of an art reference or debate, always left him content and in awe of her intelligence but as always he refused to show his admiration or voice it because it gave her power.
The driveway he pulled into showcased a house with a hideous robin egg blue color, the paint chipped among the wooden siding. And he almost had a fucking heart attack at the death stairs winding their shitty little way up to her apartment door. He slammed his door and carefully climbed the uneven wooden planks with incompetent black pads for traction. He stopped on the small balcony on top of a room on the bottom half of the duplex he wasn't certain could support his weight. Tapping on the glass of her door while simultaneously surveying the small space of what he could see, he felt the need to renovate the space in his head. Money didn't factor. The bathroom was situated on the right of the hallway, small and void of color. The only color he could see was the far wall. Her head peeked around the corner, a frown replacing her curiosity, before she made her way towards him. There wasn't a woman more beautiful than Ana but that he had always known. That fact had always bothered him until now. Her unkempt bun bounced on top of her head as she walked with even more unruly stray hairs framing her face. Dressed in overalls and a shirt that showed more skin than it covered, he could feel his frustration dissipating, morphing into something he wasn't sure he could satiate like he wanted.
"You're following me now?" She interrogated her words clipped and insolent.
"I wanted to make sure you got home safely only to find out about this,"
Mess
"Apartment." He finished but he was sure his disdain for the apartment broadcasted on his face.
"I told you I needed time Christian." She sighed exasperatingly.
"I gave you time."
"You gave me 24 hours."
"And that's 23 more hours than I originally wanted so I believe we've both fared quite well." He replied waiting for an invitation to enter but that seemed a diminishing idea. "Can I come in?" After a period of deliberation and her scrutinizing glare, she extended her arm towards the rest of her small, very small, apartment. There was no couch or any seating besides the chair he assumed she used to paint. The small bedroom to the left had a twin bed, the floral comforter crumpled at the foot with her sheets spewing in dysfunction. Ana began to cap her paints and wash her paintbrushes in the sink.
"Do you have anything to drink?" He asked.
"What, you need a drink to apologize?" She spat from the sink and he would have quipped back with something offensive if it wasn't the truth. Ana sighed with his lack of response that simultaneously validated her statement. "The previous renter left shot glasses and a bottle of tequila if you're that desperate." She tilted her head towards a cabinet and he grabbed a shot glass and then the bottle of tequila from her freezer. The first shot accomplished nothing but he limited himself to two. He was fairly certain she didn't want a belligerent apology.
"Ana, I'm sorry." He began but she ignored him. He stalked over towards her and grabbed her chin to face him. "Look at me." He demanded. "I am sorry."
Her shoulders fell and her hands stilled in the now green water from her paint. He held her there.
"I don't do this often but I've been cruel to you."
"I've been an ass." He corrected and he could see her bordering the edge of release, an emotional kind as her eyes became blurred with potential tears. "I have been punishing you for mistakes not your own, for things you haven't done and I am sorry. I am so, so sorry."
She buried her head against his chest and sobbed like his apology unleashed all of her tension. He guessed it was a long time coming, months of his behavior finally somewhat reconciled in her mind. His hand tangled itself at the back of her head and he held her tighter trying so damn hard to show his regret through gesture.
"A lot of my behavior comes from the fact that you scare me." He whispered against her hair.
"Why?" She mumbled into his shirt before her doe eyes met his with inquiry.
"Because you're taking some of my control, I guess." He shrugged with his reply but she stepped away wiping messily at her face, paint now staining her cheeks.
"You're controlling me!" She gritted back. "I haven't slept for two days, my emotions are currently attached to the rollercoaster of yours and when you kiss me everything disappears! I become captured prey at the touch of your lips and…"
"And what?" He hissed harshly as she refused to finish. She was trying to regain control, grasping for the restraint to hold back so he stepped closer to her. He would force her to talk to him because he wasn't the only one holding back. She placed her hands to his chest, shaking her head.
"And what Ana?" He asked again, his body now humming with anticipation and need.
"And I like it." She whispered and he groaned feeling his cock harden at her admission.
"Why do you sound so defeated?"
"I want to forget you." She cried.
"Don't say that." He demanded clinging to her as she tried to back away. The resolute expression on her face when she didn't respond shot panic through him. "Ana."
"But then I just don't think I can." She sobbed back with so much sadness, it hurt him. "I don't talk with anyone the way I talk with you. I don't feel things the way I have with you." She started droning with almost high pitched panic. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him. She surrendered to him but her will seemed almost unbendable as she refused to look at him. So, he kissed her. He knew nothing else and wanted nothing else. She fought him at first, stiff and unresponsive and he knew it was her last stand, her manner of giving him nothing. He tangled his hands in her hair with desperation and finally he felt her hands at his waist and her tongue move against his. Her hands clenched his shirt and she melted into him whimpering with denial.
"I'm sorry." He breathed into her hair before kissing her again.
"I'm so so sorry." He whispered against her lips. Her eyes were clenched shut as if she was searching for the will to refuse him but she melted against him and it was all he needed. He picked her up and without hesitancy, Ana wrapped her legs around his waist sighing at the feel of his hard cock. Pulling away from her, he moved the hair from her face to see her expression one of sad resignation. She was a mess of disheveled hair, stained and rosy cheeks, and looking at him with a hunger they both realized only he could ignite and he never wanted anyone more than he wanted her. He possessed her and he desired her. He never wanted anyone else. Now, he just had to make her believe it.
"I want to touch you." She whispered tenaciously, running her fingers through his hair to prove her point. His jaw clenched as he contemplated her demand, studying her face in the process and knowing he had the power to make her do anything for an orgasm yet he realized she had the power to get him to do almost anything. With her lips plump and bruised from their kissing, she could ask him to file bankruptcy and he might seriously contemplate it.
"I need to be in you."
She silenced his indecision as she kissed him and he responded with bruising force gliding with unyielding strides towards the bedroom. Her cries became desperate as he threw her onto the bed, pushing her straps from her shoulders and clearing her shirt from her head with one swift pull. Removing his tie, he grabbed her wrists and wrapped the silk to keep her hands attached to the headboard. He could sense her disappointment but he continued. Stripping her naked, she writhed with discomfort and whimpered with need. His cock stiffened as she closed her eyes resigning to his control. It was unusual for her but reassuring. He started his worship at her lips, taking them between his teeth, while his fingers worked her nipples. Her breath was hot against his temple as his tongue wandered leisurely down her neck. There wasn't a part of her he neglected or a sliver of skin he didn't possess.
"Stop." He heard her whisper and he lifted his head to see more tears.
"What's wrong?" He asked as he untied her and bringing her to settle into his lap.
"I just can't. I can't do it like that." She cried into his chest and he knew it was because she didn't trust him. He didn't blame her. To give complete control over required trust, something he hadn't earned and what little he might have had, he probably ruined.
"It's okay." She crawled off him, getting her clothes back on before sitting down next to him on the bed. After getting his shirt back on, he drew her into his lap again.
"Where do we go from here?"
"To sleep." He countered even though he knew they were both blatantly aware of how little his cock agreed with that. She smiled lightly before nodding.
"Not here." He clarified staring at the small apartment that made him uncomfortable. It reminded him too much of a childhood he worked very hard to forget. He watched Ana gather a small bag before they left and climbed into his car. The ride was filled with silence, not awkward but heavy with their somber thoughts. He was thankful she agreed to come home with him but he wasn't convinced she had forgiven him. No he could see the mountain he'd be climbing with strict lucidity.
When they arrived back to Escala, Ana escaped to the bathroom to shower making sure to close and lock the door. He stared at it for a while. Never had a woman had the power to draw such stark boundaries in his home. After he allowed that situation to sink in, he escaped to his office and caught up on the work until he heard Ana emerge from the shower. He quickly brushed his teeth and stripped off his suit before climbing into bed next to her. He made sure to leave the bathroom light on and the door slightly ajar. Ana lay curled into herself across the bed and he snaked his arm beneath her waist moving her to fit against his body.
"Ana."
"What?"
"I'm glad you're here." He felt her twine her fingers through his hand before they both fell asleep.
Christian woke alone which considering this was a normal occurrence, it took him a moment to locate the source of his unease. Ana was gone. An immediate fear rushed over him. Climbing out of bed he stopped when he saw her clothes still draped over the chair in the corner of his room. Hope reignited his energy and he was quickly thrust into complete alertness. Throwing on sweatpants, he navigated the familiar darkness with ease, the sound of rain hitting the glass panes echoed throughout the apartment.
"I'm right here." He heard Ana reveal from across the room. Bathing in the dimmed lights from the city beneath them, he made out her petite frame swallowed by his robe and an open wine bottle settled next to her. Breathing a sigh of relief that she stayed, he fetched a wine glass from the kitchen and sat next to her. She poured the wine into his glass and he noticed signs of more tears. Taking a long sip he waited for her to initiate the conversation. He said as much as he thought he could and needed.
"How long?" She inquired refusing to look anywhere else but the windows and the rain beating against them.
"How long what?"
"How long have you been into that S&M stuff?"
When he could only stare at her, she took a frustrated deep breath.
"I went to an arts college Christian. Alternative lifestyles should've been a sport."
He thought back to when he was 19 when he was first exposed. It started with a trip to Amsterdam to celebrate Elliot's 28th birthday and their late night invitation to a private party from who they thought was just a club promoter. He remembered the drive with sharp precision. Being the only sober person, the anxiety he felt when they left the city and started on country roads rose with every turn. And then the French looking estate emerged after a long drive, their Range Rover mixing effortlessly with the other luxury vehicles parked in the front courtyard. The cost just to enter was $10,000 not that it mattered for any of them. He'd been successful with his business endeavors using his trust fund to invest and "flip" small companies and Grey Construction certainly had no problems after landing its first high rise project that year. The wealth housed in that estate was nothing new and many of the attendees had the persona his father projected but what was appealing was discerning the elite from the powerful. It was the first time he found a goal an attractive visible desire for the control, money, but most of all power. And that was where he met a mentor of sorts, someone who showed him the beauty of submission but more how to own someone. How to own their pleasure, their body, and their control.
"Well…" Ana prompted.
"11 years." He answered.
"So then the woman that was here…"
"She's a past play partner of mine." He hated the labels of Dom and sub. He hated the feeling that his sexual proclivities had to fit in some defined box.
Ana nodded as if he calmed her suspicion.
"I didn't sleep with her."
"I wouldn't have slept with you if I thought you did. You are a man of your word Christian. You paid an extra fifteen million dollars in an oil deal last year because you promised the employees you'd keep their refinery open. But why was she here?"
"She's been contacting me with suspicions that she's pregnant. I invited her over to confirm."
"And?"
"She's not. The test was negative and after much berating she finally admitted she lied."
"And so you punished me for her mistakes or…"
"That's how I enjoy sex." He admitted.
"You were different this last time. Well before I stopped you." Ana observed.
"I made some concessions for you. To be honest, you're the first women I've ever had in my bed." He confessed.
"Well where do you have the others?" She turned to him then with a narrow eyed glance.
"I have a separate room here, up those stairs that I use."
"Did you put a room in our house?"
"Yes."
She picked up the wine bottle and set them both down on the counter. She was withdrawing faster than he could get to her.
"It was before I promised you no more women. I have no plans to use it." He spoke calmly as she faced him again.
"I'm postponing the wedding. We need the time." He stood up quickly then ruminating on a way to calm her.
"Ana, I only want you." He tried to reassure her. "I'll do anything to keep you."
"Prove it." She snapped with a fire in her eyes that he loved her for. So strong, so gentle, flawed, and perfect.
And he planned to prove it. Failure wasn't an option.
