"Anastasia."
Who's that? The young surgeon grumbled, hiding away from the familiar voice.
"Come on, baby."
Go away. I'm not Anastasia. She isn't home. A quiet whine rumbled in her throat, but all she did was pull the covers over her head.
"No, baby. Wake up." She felt arms wrap around her gently, a soft nuzzle against her ear. The brunette's eyes fluttered open for a moment but were disappointed to meet darkness. Her eyes closed again and she resumed with her sleep, doing her best to ignore the dominant bothering her.
Pulling the sheet down, forcing her to release them from her fingers, Christian's arms reached around her waist, pulling them into his body. "Wake up, baby," he whispered, a voice that had such a sweet effect on her body.
The resident remained still but the man in her ear was pulling her out of her dreamy state. "Time to get up, baby," he said quietly. "I'm going to switch on the sidelight."
A light flashed on, causing Anastasia to shut her eyes even more tightly. She let out a stretched, moaning whine, turning her head away the blaring light, suddenly feeling his face against hers.
"I want to chase the dawn with you," he said. He began kissing her face repeatedly—eyelids, the tip of her nose, and then her mouth. He kissed her lips over and over, pecking them and urging her to wake. She slowly began reciprocating the kiss back, and opened her eyes.
Warm, golden eyes finally opened to see a gentle, smiling Christian against her lips. His gray eyes beamed sweetly at her, brimmed with light. "You're so beautiful," he murmured against her lip, kissing her warmly and deeply, taking her by surprise. She hummed against his lips, smiling weakly against him. "Good morning, beautiful," he said against her lip.
The warmth of his embrace was beginning to unfold, releasing her and leaving her on the bed alone. The locks of her hair sprawled against the pillow. As her vision adjusted, she found Christian leaning over her body—amused, smiling, and dressed all in black.
She rubbed eyes with her forefingers, hiding her face from her blushing smile. He was always jaw-dropping-ly gorgeous, but he had her at a disadvantage with her current messy appearance. She blinked at him and groggily yawned with a scowl, "I thought you wanted sex."
"Anastasia, I always want sex with you," Christian said dryly. "It's heartwarming to know that you feel the same way."
She licked her lips and pursed them at him, "Of course, I do, silly." She yawned once more, making her eyes glisten, "Just not when it's at the crack of dawn."
"Come on—up you go," he said, ignoring her as he helped her out of the bed, lifting her from under her arms. "We're going out. I'll take a rain check on the sex."
"I'm a surgeon," the brunette whined, "I don't get a lot of sleep as much as I like—take pity on me, Mr. Grey. Plus, I was having a really nice dream before you pulled me away from it." Her shoulders slumped as she dragged her feet slowly towards the bathroom.
"Dream about what?" he asked patiently, guiding and pushing her body from behind.
The surgeon blushed, secretly smiling to herself and turning to face him. "If I tell you, it won't come true, Christian," she smiled shyly, "but it was about you."
His lips twitched a trace of a smile, "And what was I doing?"
Anastasia shook her head, pretending to zip her lips and throw out the key. He shook his head, "Come on, you. Go get ready."
Her feet shuffled against the floor. Realization finally hit her and she turned around asking with a questioned face, "What time is it?"
"5:30 in the morning."
"That's just rude…" She muttered.
"I let you sleep as much as possible," Christian explained. "We don't have much time, though. Come."
"Why can't I shower?" The brunette frowned.
The dominant sighed, "If you shower, I'll want one with you, and you and I both know what will happen then—the day will just go before us. Come." Finally noticing his expression and the gleam in his eyes, Anastasia saw that he was excited—like a child, anticipating and overjoyed as if it were Christmas morning. She couldn't help but smile and melt to the thought.
"Can I know what we will be doing?"
"I told you last night. It's a surprise." The joy from his voice couldn't be hidden as he grinned. "I'll give you some room now that you're up," he responded, hopping out of the bedroom and exiting to the living room area.
His response made her smile. "Okay," she said, hurrying to get ready for him. Her clothing was neatly folded beside the bed after she came back from the bathroom from brushing her teeth. Christian had laid out a pair of his Ralph Lauren boxer briefs for her, causing her to shake her head and smiling—taking another trophy for herself as she slipped it on her body..
She checked her phone and received an email from Jackson in regards to the Catherine Fox Awards. The surgeon was too preoccupied last night to check her phone of any messages.
From: Jackson Avery
Subject: CFAs Information
Date: May 16, 2018 23:45
To: Anastasia Steele
Dr. Steele,
I have all the information from the foundation for the night of the awards.
Saturday, June 2nd, 2018. Address location: Gotham Hall – 1356 Broadway, New York, NY 10018; black tie attire. If you need help covering for plane or hotel expenses, let me know.
Also, please tell me how many people you plan on RSVPing for the event, as well as giving me their names. They will be sitting at your table with you.
P.S. I hope things are going well in California with you and your boards!
Jackson Avery, M.D., F.A.C.S
Head of Plastic Surgery, Attending ENT & Attending Plastic Surgeon at Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
Board Chairman of Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital and The Catherine Fox Foundation
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: CFAs Information
Date: May 17, 2018 05:36
To: Jackson Avery
Dr. Avery
I have it dated, and thank you but I can handle the flight and hotel.
Just a plus one—Christian Grey.
P.S. Things did go well! I think the salmon helped ;)
Dr. Anastasia R. Steele
Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
Minutes later she was dressed in her black long-sleeve, tight black jeans, and his underwear, entering the dining area to meet with her man. I guess I was wearing all black yesterday, too—very fitting for how miserable I was then before coming.
Christian glanced up at his girl from his breakfast on the dining room table and smiled. "Eat," he said.
The young resident couldn't eat, not with a nonexistent appetite at that hour. She stared at him and blinked, placing her arms behind her back as a refusing gesture to his command.
"Anastasia," he said sternly, narrowing his eyes.
"Can I just have some tea? It's too early for me to eat at this hour, Christian," she excused herself, smiling as kindly as she could face.
"Don't rain on my parade, Anastasia," he warned softly.
"I promise that I will eat after what you have planned for us. Okay?"
"Okay," Christian pursed his lips, peering down at her.
It was very early in the morning and her dominant was already getting on her nerves.
"Can I roll my eyes at you?" The surgeon asked sardonically, crossing her arms and lifting her brow.
"By all means, do. You will make my day," he declared in seriousness.
Biting her lip in deep thought, an idea occurred to her, causing her to smile naughtily with a playful look in her eye. "Make my day and spank me, Mr. Grey. That might certainly teach me a lesson and wake me up, won't it?" She challenged him, a teasing tone in her voice as she stifled a giggle.
Christian's jaw dropped, and it was hard for her not to begin laughing. She continued as the corners of her lips curled into a smile, "Then again, the day would just go by if you did, right?" The careful use and repeating of his words played well—it was slight revenge for being up at that early hour.
He closed his mouth, failing to look displeased as she caught the humor lurking in his gray eyes. "You are, as ever, challenging, Miss Steele. Drink your tea," he murmured.
Quietly gasping to herself, the young resident found the exact Twinnings Tea label that she had asked Mrs. Jones for. He remembered, her heart bloomed and she smiled, turning to the man who smiled softly back. Their exchanging glances led her to believe that he received her gratitude. Making her tea, she began drinking it heartily, taking it into her system as her eyes drank in his beauty at the same time.
Ready to exit the hotel room, Christian threw a sweatshirt at her, luckily catching it that time. "You'll need this," he responded and a puzzled look questioned his advice. "Trust me," he grinned, kissing her quickly on the lips and grabbing her hand to head out.
Leaving the lobby and finding their way outside, the early morning sky was lit of pre-dawn. The valet suddenly hands the dominant his keys to an over-th-top sports car with a soft top.
She made a face at him and lifted a brow at Christian, who smirked back. "You know," he began, "sometimes it's great being me."
Be careful, Mr. Grey. Your good looks won't prevent you from receiving a smack in the mouth, the brunette thought as her smiled betrayed her. He smiled smugly at her as he opened the passenger side for her, bowing afterwards in the most dramatic way that made her giggle. Christian was such in a good mood, a side of himself she rarely saw. In spite of all that had occurred—the roller coaster ride of their ups and downs, the amazing sex, and the desire to know more about one another—Anastasia was enjoying his playful and carefree self. He was so lovable, making her realize and prove her true feelings.
He inputted the location on his GPS and drove out of the hotel valet. The brunette smiled and asked, hiding her desperation, "Where are we going?"
"You'll see," Christian grinned, gleeful in his secret land of thoughtful surprises. Ugh, fine.
I guess, now would be the good time to ask him to him.
"Christian, can I ask you for a favor?" The surgeon asked meekly, shifting in her seat. She felt nervous for some reason.
"What do you need? Anything, Ana—I'll give it to you."
She cleared her throat, gauging his reaction as she began, "Well, it's not something you can give. But, as you know, I was nominated for the Catherine Fox Award award, and I was wondering—do you want to come with me New York?"
He blinked, and his eyes softened. A small smile formed on his lips by her request and his delighted and pleased tone was shown through his voice, "It'd be my honor to accompany you, Anastasia. When and where is it?"
"June 2nd—it's in two weeks on a Saturday at the Gotham Hall," the brunette flushed and smiled, combing her hair with her fingers.
"I'll be sure to put that down in my calendar and let my assistant fix my schedule." His hand reached over and took her hand, squeezing it first before bringing it to his lips for a kiss. He murmured sweetly, "I can't wait." With a push of a button on his steering wheel, classical music began to play from the clear speakers of the car.
Anastasia felt as though she were living a fairytale, and although she was the one being pursued, she didn't see herself as the damsel in distress. Amused and smiling to herself, she pondered the humorous idea of being the "knight in shining armor" and sweeping her dominant off his feet. In reality, however, she did feel and was treated like a princess—maybe not in the bedroom, but in many other ways. He was loyal and caring, consistently looking out for her needs while making sure that she was pleased and happy. He also gave her everything she could ever want, not that she asked or wanted them to begin with but it was the thoughts that counted. Currently, the princess was in the knight's carriage, and he was taking her a surprise getaway only for the two to share.
The classical, musical orchestra of strings filled the silence, and it was hard to ignore as the surgeon continued wondering where they were headed. "What is this piece?" She wasn't familiar with his refined style and taste in music, but she wanted to make small talk just to admire his voice.
"It's La Traviata—an opera by Verdi," Christian replied simply.
The surgeon's face was blank—she had no idea what it was and who that was. He answered her question with a smile as she blinked, "The title literally translates as 'the woman led astray,' but it's actually based on a book by Alexander Dumas—La Dame aux Camelias."
Flaring with acknowledgement, Anastasia declared, "I read that."
The English translation—Camille—was a novel that told the story of a courtesan with tuberculosis that fell in love with an average man. The man helped persuade the woman to live a life of love with him, rather than prostituting herself to other men. It was a tragic love story with an unhappy ending. The parallelisms in the book were a bit coincidental to the brunette's own life. The courtesan in the book sacrificed her riches and promiscuous lifestyle for the man she fell in love with. Interesting.
"Did you?" Christian mused.
She answered, "Pammy—my caretaker when I was put into a group home—had a bookshelf full of old books. I wasn't supposed to read them at my age, but I was curious."
"It's nice to know that your eagerness for information started so young," the dominant smirked.
"It's why I did so well in school, Mr. Grey," she shrugged and smiled shyly.
Christian hummed contently at the thought before asking, "Do you want to choose the music?" He tapped onto the touch screen of the console between them, revealing a playlist of music. "These songs are on my iPod," he said, a secret smile on his face again.
Anastasia blinked at the technology, observing his fingers scroll and tap at the screen. His lips twitched into a smile from her amusement, challenging her subtly, "You choose."
Christian Grey's iPod was a mystery box—hoping the music he listened to would fill in any blanks she had about him, the young doctor found the perfect song. She giggled at her choice before pressing a song by Britney Spears. The beats of the music thumped at the speakers of the car; it was a bit early for that kind of music, but she couldn't help herself. Britney's trademark voice moaned into her song as she began her lyrics.
"Toxic, eh?" Christian grinned, turning the music up more.
She laughed, "It's quite a surprise seeing this in your playlist, Mr. Grey."
"I didn't put that song on my iPod," he said casually, pressing his foot on the gas pedal. As the car accelerated along the freeway, the resident's petite body was thrown back into her seat with her legs swinging back.
Oh. Who? The brunette was forced to listen to Britney moan-singing the sexual lyrics of her song from start to finish as she was deep in her thoughts about the stranger who had control over the dominant's music player. As the song ended, a new song played—one more mournful. Staring out the window with an elbow leaned against the armrest of the car, she continued wondering who and hoping it wasn't Mrs. Robinson.
Answering her unspoken thoughts, he said, "It was Leila."
A submissive? The surgeon thought. "I'm assuming that you're insinuating one of the fifteen?" Gold eyes blinked and turned to the man driving.
"Yes," Christian replied, a wary expression on his face.
"What happened to her?" Anastasia asked innocently with a light tone, hoping to not upset him.
"We finished."
Even though the topic of their conversation was too intense and early to discuss, Christian was in a good mood—he was relaxed and (most importantly) talkative, which gave her the incentive to know more of him.
Tread carefully. The doctor cleared her throat, "May I ask why?"
"She wanted more." His voice was quiet as if reflecting on the memory. The last word of his sentence hung between the two of them; it had so much power and meaning.
"And you didn't," Anastasia responded as a way to complete his sentence. She rubbed her lips together as the guilt of wanting something more to come out of their relationship came over her. She realized that she wasn't the only who wanted something more…well, more. He figured most of his relationships ended that way.
Christian nodded his head in agreement, and without a second to spare, the surgeon's hopes were revived as he explained, "I've never wanted more, not until I met you."
You want more? The resident's heart bloomed, and she longed to hold him. She couldn't believe what she heard, and it was a feeling of relief she felt as if she just saved a patient. It was sweet victory, a momentous feeling to remember, realizing that she finally got what she wanted. The doctor wasn't sure if she had pulled him out of the dark completely, but it was evident that he was following her into her light.
It's not just me that wants more.
"What happened to the other fourteen? Did they end for the same reasons?" Anastasia wanted to take advantage of his forthcoming attitude; he spoke freely without opposition, and she wanted to make sure her moment didn't go to waste.
He dryly said, "You want a list? Divorced, beheaded, died?"
The brunette wanted to roll her eyes. "You aren't Henry VIII," she muttered.
"Okay," Christian responded, "in no particular order, I've had long-term relationships with four other women, apart from Elena."
"Apart from Elena?"
"Mrs. Robinson to you." He half-smiled his secret private joke smile, remembering his "green-eyed goddess" from last night.
Elena? It was like a curse word—"She Who Must Not Be Named" type of name. The name itself set a fire within her body, like dousing gasoline into a fiery pit. The resident's imagination came to life as she pictured an evil witch in black taking claim of the man she loved. What made imagination feel worse was her intuition of the evil woman being beautiful, knowing that she was somehow.
Changing the subject to rid the surgeon's version of her Voldemort, she asked, distracting her mind, "What happened to the other four?"
"So inquisitive—so eager for information, Miss Steele," he scolded playfully.
The brunette ignored his comment, pressing on, "So the other four?"
Christian sighed, but a small smile remained, "One met someone else. The other three wanted 'more.' I wasn't in the market for 'more' then."
"What about the other eleven submissives?"
He glanced at her and shook his head, "Just didn't work out, Ana."
Noticing the empty road ahead of them, the surgeon took in the surroundings of the San Francisco beside the Pacific Ocean. She wasn't familiar with that part of the area. Perplexed, she asked, "Will you tell me where we are headed, now?"
"An airfield," Christian said simply and vaguely, not giving any more away.
Anastasia gasped, "Wait, why?" Starting to get nervous she exclaimed, "My things are still at the hotel, Christian! We aren't going back home are we? Plus, the others will worry for me if I'm not with them!"
He laughed, "No, Anastasia. We're going to indulge in my second favorite pastime."
"Oh?" Sidetracked, the doctor asked, "What is your first then?"
A dark smile spread across his beautiful face, "I told you this morning, Miss Steele—indulging in you— and that would be at the very top of my list, in any way that I can have you."
"Being with you is quite high up on my list as well," she said quietly, flushing from his words. As the tension between them heated, the surgeon put out the flames by redirecting the conversation back to its original topic, "So, why an airfield then if we aren't going home?"
Christian grinned excitedly, a jovial gleam in his eyes, as he answered in one word, "Soaring."
The word sent the young doctor back to their unofficial first date in his apartment, the one night that changed everything as she was caught in a web of his desires. She remembered the memory of wanting to get to know him, vaguely listing out his hobbies and interests before decided to open up his shell. She didn't like the thought of flying something new; it made her anxious and worried, but her infected smile from his cheerful behavior made it otherwise.
I've never been gliding before. This should be interesting,
"We're going to chase the dawn, Anastasia," he turned and grinned as the GPS told him to turn into an open hangar. He pulled his car outside of a large, white building, a sign reading The Fellow Feathers of Fort Funston Hang Gliding Club. Quite the pretentious name, she thought, disbelieving that something like that existed and she never knew about it.
He switched the engine off and smiled, reaching over for her hand and asking softly with a hopeful voice, "You up for this?"
Her breath shook as slight, troubling panic took over, "I'm a little nervous; I've never been." She blinked up at him in wonder as he stared back with concern, "Will you be flying it?"
"Yes, I will be flying," Christian said with his voice more consoling to wash over her fears. His hand reached over and caressed her cheek, "I understand your fears, but you can trust me." He paused, repeating his words into a question as his gray eyes softened and warmed, "You can trust me right, Ana?"
Mesmerized, Anastasia smiled reassuringly, and without hesitation or doubt she firmly stated, "I trust you."
His expression lightened, influencing and uplifting her mood with him. He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly, murmuring against her lips, "My brave, sweet girl." He climbed out and stated, "Another first for you and for me, Miss Steele."
It was obvious that it was a first for the young resident. In all the years she had spent in San Francisco at Stanford, not once did she find the time to occupy herself with gliding or flying lessons. She was working in the hospital or studying for the next exam she had, and she was also far too young to know about those activities she had never heard of until later on. However, why was it a first for him? This better not be his first time flying it! Her thoughts stopped her and reminded her that he had done this previously because he mentioned it at their dinner. But still, why first was it for him, too? Being in California?
The air was fresh and clean, and the waters of the Pacific Ocean can be heard from the distance. The morning, cool air kissed the highpoints of her face—nose, cheeks, and ears reddening from the wind's blow. Unlike the air in the streets and city of San Francisco, it was easier to breathe where they were at. The sky shifted into an iridescent opal—colors of blues, pinks, purples, and orange-yellow flashed in the sky with childlike clouds as dawn approached. The surgeon felt like she was living in a painting.
Taking her hand, Christian led her around the building to a largely stretching runway— a fleet of parked planes in their sights immediately. She gasped, taking in the planes. She squeezed his hand excitedly, eyes lighting from what she had seen, causing him to grin and kiss her cheek. Walking to them was a man with a shaved head accompanied by Taylor.
Taylor is here? Hazel eyes beamed at the large, stoic man and he smiled back in response with kind, blue eyes.
"Mr. Grey," Taylor greeted, "this is your tow-pilot—Mr. Mark Benson." Immediately, Christian and Mark shook hands as he let go of hers, striking up a conversation about the wind and directions of their flight.
Anastasia pivoted her body to turn to Christian's bodyguard, playfully teasing him with a formal, serious salute. She giggled, putting her hand down afterwards before shyly greeting him, "Hello, Taylor."
He grinned by her light-hearted action, nodding and greeting back, "Miss Steele." She frowned by the formality, and he corrected himself afterwards, "Ana."
Taylor smiled secretly, speaking conspiratorially as he leaned in, "He's been hell on wheels the last few days. I'm glad that we made it here, though."
The doctor widened her eyes at his comment, snickering to his joke. Isn't he always sort of that way? I wonder why he was particularly that way today. The environment was freeing, and she noticed that the men around her felt the same way. She didn't have any complaints; it was a happy day for gliding.
"Anastasia," Christian called out afterwards, quietly upset from not being included in their conversation. "Come," he said, a hand awaiting hers.
"I'll see you, Taylor," she waved and smiled at him. He gave a quick salute—a small smile on his face at their new running joke—and she gave one back playfully with a giggle. She watched the bodyguard turn back and head to the parking lot as she took Christian's hand.
"Mr. Benson," he said, "I'd like to introduce you to my girlfriend Anastasia Steele."
The kind introduction of his words took her breath away, and the brunette combed her dark locks back as the wind blew it away from her face. She shook his hand and murmured shyly, "Pleased to meet you, sir."
Benson gave a friendly, dazzling smile. "Likewise," he said with his British accent.
Butterflies were scattering around the surgeon's stomach, anxious and excited to be experiencing what was to come. She couldn't believe she was about to soar with Christian; if she had never met him, she would never been given or offered the chance to go soaring and probably wouldn't ever. Hands held together, they followed Mark Benson across the tarmac and towards the runway of planes. He and the dominant kept a running conversation of the specifications of which plane to fly, declaring that a Blanik L-23 would be best rather than the L-13. Although gibberish to the brunette, she trusted their choice in the midst of all the unrecognizable jargon. Benson would be flying a Piper Pawnee, and he stated that he had been flying tail draggers for around five years. I still have absolutely no idea what is going on or what that means, the girl frowned to herself but kept the façade of being impressed and happy. Glancing up at the man tugging her closely to his body, she noticed an animated Christian Grey, and it was a happy sight to see that made her even more overjoyed.
The plane was long, sleek, and white with orange stripes once they arrived. It had a small cockpit with two seats, one in front of the other. It was attached by a long white cable to a small, conventional single-propeller plane—ones that the doctor only saw in media and drawings, never in person. Benson opened the large dome of the cockpit, allowing the two to climb in.
The British man said with determination, "First, we need to strap on your parachute, miss."
Wait? Why? Are we jumping? She morbidly thought, knowing in the back of her head that it wasn't the case but still feared for it.
"I'll do that," Christian interrupted, taking the harness off Benson and heading to his girl. Another secret smile played on his face as his eyes danced with humor.
"I'll fetch the ballast," Benson declared, heading toward the plane. Okay, Mark.
Lifting a brow, Anastasia bit down her smile and observed with a dry remark, "You seem to enjoy strapping me into things, Mr. Grey."
"Oh, Miss Steele, you have no idea," he said softly, kissing her biting lip. "Here, step into the straps," he ordered.
"Yes, sir," she murmured against his lips, following his orders. Doing as she was told, she began being tied together. Holding onto his shoulders to keep balance, Christian suddenly stiffened and tensed but doesn't react. Once her feet were in the loops of the harness, he pulled the parachute up, and the brunette's hands were at the shoulder straps. Delicately, he fastened the harness and tightened all the straps together.
"There," he said, finishing his work admiring his work with gleaming, gray eyes. "Do you have your hair tie?"
Anastasia reached in her pocket and pulled it out, knowing he wanted to tie her hair. It's probably for the best, she thought as she darkly imagined her hair getting caught in a propeller, or blocking Christian's face from seeing, which would result in them plummeting to their spiraling deaths. She shook her head of her pessimistic thoughts and finished tying her hair in a pony, two strands framing her face.
"In you go, baby," Christian commanded, his usual bossy persona. She stepped into the back seat but was stopped quickly as he tugged at her arm, "No, sit in the front. The pilot sits in the back."
"Oh." She furrowed her brows and shook her head, "But you won't be able to see."
"I'll see plenty. Trust me," he grinned. Never once had the brunette seen the dominant gleeful and joyous while still being commanding at the same time. Climbing in the front and settling into the leather seat, she was shocked and impressed to notice that her seat was comfortable. Christian leaned forward, pulling the harness over her shoulder and reaching between her legs for the lower belt. He fastened against her belly and tightened all the remaining and restraining straps. She let out a soft grunt as pressure around her stomach hugged her.
"Hmm, twice in one morning—I am a lucky man," he whispered and kissed her quickly. She pulled his face down before giving him a chance to move away, kissing him slowly and deeply. He growled against her lips, speaking lowly as he pulled her lip, "This won't take too long— twenty, thirty minutes at most. The thermals aren't great this time of the morning, but it's so breathtaking up there at this hour." He stared with wonder and pressing concern, "I hope you're still not nervous."
"No, not anymore." Anastasia beamed and corrected, "Ecstatic." She wasn't sure where her bravery and courage bloomed from because a part of her was still terrified, and yet the girl still couldn't help herself from being infected from his contagious smile and radiating attitude.
"Good," he grinned, stroking her face and admiring her features before disappearing from view.
Many minutes passed before the surgeon could hear the movements of his steps coming up from behind her. She felt the dominant climb aboard, but she couldn't turn to see, blaming her tightened restraints. In front of the brunette was an intimidating panel of dials and levers with a joystick in front. She didn't dare touch anything and left the entire panel alone.
Benson reappeared in the brunette's sights with a cheerful grin as he checked and secured the straps on her body, leaning in and checking the ballast of the plane. "Secured," he stated reassuringly. With an elbow leaned against the top of her seat, he asked, "First time?"
"Yes," Anastasia breathed.
"You'll love it," Benson smiled.
She smiled back, hugging and holding the straps, "I cannot wait. Thank you, Mr. Benson."
"Call me Mark," he grinned. Turning to Christian, he nodded, "Okay?"
"Yep. Let's go." Christian's voice was short and clipped.
Anastasia was glad she hadn't eaten anything even when Christian persisted otherwise. Beyond excited and nervous, her petite body wouldn't be able to handle the ride to come. The surgeon trusted and placed her fate into the dominant's skilled hands.
Mark closed the cockpit lid and strolled over to the front of the plane before climbing in after. As Benson's Piper Pawnee picked up speed, so does their Blannik L-23. Suddenly, the recognizable feeling of going up a roller coaster and preparing for a dip occurred. It was a surprise to herself that she had followed through with doing this. Mark's plane turned slowly down the runway, and then their plane abruptly jolted forward. They were finally taking off after the long wait, and Anastasia could hear the chatter from over the radio behind. The noise was impossible to make out, but she heard Mark's voice.
When the Piper picked up speed, the velocity of their plane did the same. It was a bumpy start, and the turbulence was didn't help with the surgeon's nerves. The single propeller plane was still on the ground, and in the middle of wondering if they'd ever take off, the brunette gasped as her stomach and heart dropped as she was pulled back to her seat. They were flying freely and in the air.
"Here we go, baby!" Christian shouted from behind. And liftoff… They were in their bubble, just the two of them. All that could be heard was the sound of the wind ripping past their ears with the distant hum of the Piper's engine from afar. Her hands were as pale as snow as she gripped tightly onto the edges of her seat.
The plane headed west, inland away from the rising sun. As the plane increased altitude and gained height, she watched the plane soar past the fields and the cliffs, heading out into the sea. The light was extraordinary, diffusing and warm in its hue as the water reflected against the colorful sky. It was a magical hour—the magic hour all photographers sought after and adored. It was just after dawn—a beautiful sight and an illustration that best represented how she felt with him.
Anastasia understood why he enjoyed the freedom of flying, being alone and away from everything. Being up there meant being away from the pressures of his job, away from having to be an adult—just being carefree, lovable Christian Grey.
The radio crackled into the air, and Mark mentioned that the two were three-thousand feet above the ground. Impressed, the doctor checked at the ground below her, seeing how far she was from the sea and still marveling the view.
"Release," Christian said into the radio, and by the command of his word, the Piper disappears. The pulling sensation ceased and they were floating—drifting like the clouds among the sky with the waters cascading from under. The feeling and the sights were unbelievable, and she couldn't believe it where she was. He made the plane towards the sun, heading closer to the spectacular morning light.
He shouted, "Hold on tight!" They dipped again—only this time, he didn't stop. The young doctor squealed as her view went upside down, hands pressed against the glass of the cockpit's dome to prevent herself from slipping out her seat.
She opened her mouth in surprise, listening to him roar with laughter. Ass! Although her thoughts were annoyed with him, she couldn't help but laugh with him. The harmony of their joy set the tone for the light of their view—everything in that moment was beautiful.
"I'm glad I didn't have breakfast," she shouted at him, hoping to remind and prove her correct judgment.
"Yes, in hindsight, it's good you didn't because I'm going to do that again." The sound of his grin could be heard in his voice, and he dipped the plane again, letting her release another pleased laugh. Her face had hurt from all the grinning and laughter, and she declared that this moment was the most memorable and one of the happiest memories that existed in her life.
…
Anastasia took a deep breath, inhaling the cool air as the cockpit lid opened. Christian stretched and clambered out of the plan, leaning over to unbuckle her. "How was that?" He asked with eyes beautifully dazzling and shining silver gray.
"I'm still amazed and can't believe that you let me have control over the plane," the surgeon said with a voice of wonder, staring warmly before giggling.
The dominant replied back with a low voice, "You'd be amazed what I'd let you do, Miss Steele."
"It was…" Her gold eyes were out of thought and mesmerized by his intense gaze. Although complimenting him, she finished her sentence simply, "…extraordinary. Thank you so much for that, Christian; I'll never forget this, ever."
Tinged with hope, Christian asked, "Was it more?"
Her mouth opened before turning into a smile. She shook her head in disbelief and breathed softly, "Much more, so much more."
His white teeth shined as brilliantly as him as he grinned. "Come," he said, holding out a hand for her as she took it and climbed out.
Once out of the cockpit, Christian grabbed the brunette's arm and flushed his hot body against hers. Pressing gently into her, he grabbed her hair, tugging it so her head tipped back while the other hand traveled up her spine. He bent for a kiss—long and hard, full of passion as his tongue wrapped around hers. His breathing was ragged, and he was taking her for himself again. She felt his erection press into her, and while she was shocked by it at first, it only made her want him more, despite them being in an airfield. Her fingers reached into his coppery, soft hair, twisting it and anchoring him towards her. He broke the kiss away, preventing his emotions and affection from taking over his actions. His eyes were luminous, gleaming darkly and lustfully in the morning light; they were filled with ardor and intense sensuality, taking her breath away.
"Breakfast," he whispered, sharing one quick kiss before kissing her nose and cheek, hoping to rid his passion by releasing them through each pursing lip.
With a seduced voice, she breathed against his lips, "Feed me." Anastasia couldn't help herself—she wanted to provoke him.
Christian growled, taking her lip into his and speaking through his clamping teeth, "I intend to, Ana, but don't tempt me like that."
"I can't help myself," she panted, smiling coyly.
"You insatiable little fiend," the dominant hummed, kissing her lip one last time. "Come. We'll eat now."
The brunette blinked, holding and caressing his face, "But the glider?"
"Someone will take care of that," he said dismissively. "Come," he smiled.
It was already such a perfect day for the surgeon—the trip being way beyond her expectations—and the day was just beginning. With a swinging hand, the two happily headed back into Christian's car and began their drive to get breakfast.
Anastasia murmured with delight as she remembered her introduction to Mr. Benson, "I like that you introduced me to Mark as your girlfriend."
His lip quirked and his brow lifted, "Isn't that what you are?"
"Am I?" The brunette blinked and chuckled, "That has such a 'hearts-and-flowery' connotation. I just thought you wanted a submissive."
"So did I, Anastasia," Christian admitted with a gentle tone, "but I told you—I want more, too."
He wants more. I am more…
She chewed her lip, flushing from his words. Will you always have this effect on me? "I am very pleased to hear, Mr. Grey," she whispered.
"We aim to please, Miss Steele," he smirked, pulling the car into the International House of Pancakes.
It was 8:30 a.m., but the restaurant wasn't busy. It was quiet and smelled of sweet batter, fried oil, and an overwhelming scent of disinfectant. Christian led the brunette to a booth handing picking up the menu and gazing at its foods.
"IHOP?" Anastasia asked with a grin, "I never would have pictured someone like you here."
"When I was younger, my dad used to bring us to one of this place whenever my mom went away at a medical conference," Christian explained, peeking up from his menu. "It was our little secret," he smiled, gray eyes dancing as his gaze returned to the food items, combing his wayward hair.
The young doctor picked up the menu in hopes that it would distract her from her promiscuous thoughts, but all that she was reminded was wanting him. She craved him, even though she was also physically hungry for a good meal.
With a low and husky voice, Christian stated, "I know what I want."
Her hazel eyes flickered from the menu to the smoldering gray eyes that darkened before her. He hypnotized her in a way that made her blood run freely down her body, warming and heating her insides as her muscles clenched to the electrical pull and sexual tension of their gaze.
Shifting in her seat uncomfortably, the brunette pulled the hairband out of her hair, releasing the ponytail and setting her dark locks free. She crossed her legs, rubbing her thighs together with eagerness as she whispered, "I want what you want."
"Here?" The dominant asked suggestively, raising his eyebrow at her while smiling naughtily. She watched his tongue rub his front teeth through his kissable lips before seeing his teeth trap the tip of his tongue.
She combed her head to the side and nodded, replying with a challenge under her breath. "Here," Anastasia repeated.
"Don't bite your lip," Christian ordered. "Not here and not now." His eyes hardened momentarily, and for a split second, he looked as dangerous as she bold felt. He continued in a mutter, "If I can't have you here, don't tempt me."
But it's just so fun to.
The feelings and sounds of a steaming, boiling kettle quieted as the tensions were released by an upcoming waitress. "Hi, my name's Leandra. What can I get for…" Her voice slowed and stumbled as she swallowed an eye full of the beautiful man in beside her. "…you folks…uh…today. This morning…?" Her face flushed scarlet, and the surgeon blinked in amusing curiosity, wondering if that was how she looked. Her presence allowed the surgeon to take a moment to readjust her state of mind and escape the dominant's tantalizingly sexual glare.
"Anastasia?" Christian asked, prompting her for her choice as he ignored Leandra. There was an intense carnality and raw intensity to the way he said the surgeon's name, and she hoped that she didn't turn the blush the same color as the waitress.
The brunette swallowed, answering carefully, "I told you what I want, Christian." She kept her voice soft and low as he looked at her hungrily, ready to pounce and mount her. She bit her lip again involuntarily but released her lip immediately when his eyes flashed a hot, sensual glare. It was a dangerous game the two were playing, and they both knew it.
Leandra stared from the gray-eyed man to the hazel-eyed girl, turning the same color as her box-dyed, red hair. "Shall I give you folks another minute to decide?"
"No." Christian's mouth twitched into his secret, sexy smile, "We know what we want." Without taking his eyes off his lamb, he answered, "We'll have two portions of the original buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup and bacon on the side, two glasses of orange juice, one black coffee with skim milk, and one English breakfast tea—if you have it."
"Thank you, sir. Will that be all?" The waitress asked in a hushed whisper, staring off—anywhere but at the two. Christian turned to stare at her, causing her to flush again and turn away with their order.
"It's interesting watching other women react around you," Anastasia commented, joking afterwards. "Well, it's unfair and should be illegal." Her voice was nonchalant as she toyed with the tablecloth.
He mused at her statements, furrowing his brows as he asked, "What do you mean by that? What is unfair and should be illegal exactly?"
"How you disarm people—women, me," she shrugged.
"Do I disarm you?"
The doctor snorted, shaking her head at the obvious question. She explained, "You know you do. Since I met you, you've done it consistently—all the time."
"It's just looks, Anastasia," he said mildly, dismissing away at the comment.
"Not at all, not the way that I see it and the way others do," she said.
His brows furrowed, countering back, "You disarm me completely, Miss Steele. Your innocence—it cuts through all the crap."
Was that what made me so different? Was that why you rethought our ordeal? "Why did you change your mind, Mr. Grey?" She asked, wanting a reason for "more."
"Change my mind?"
"Yes—about us."
Christian stroked his chin in thought with his long, skilled fingers. He could do so much with those fingers—piano, control planes, work, and play (most importantly), her mind sidetracked. He corrected her, "I don't think I've changed my mind per se. We just need to re-define our parameters, re-draw our battle lines, if you will. We can make this work, I'm sure. I want you submissive in my playroom. I will punish you if you digress from the rules. Other than that…well, I think it's all up for discussion. Those are my requirements, Miss Steele. What say you to that?"
"Only in the playroom"—so when we have sex? And when you refer to punishments, you want me to simply: accepting your luxuries, feeding and taking care of myself, letting you protect me, and meeting up with you? If you subtract the contract, wouldn't that just be a normal relationship except not being forced to follow those exact "rules" with the burden of being punished?
"Let's suppose I agreed wanting to be with you, keeping compromise in mind," the surgeon said. "Would I sleep with you—in the same bed? Would still agree?"
"Is that what you want?"
Anastasia blinked at him, flushing as she was put back in the spotlight. He wants to know more, and he also wants more. Tell him. "Y-Yes…" She said slowly.
"I agree then," Christian nodded before a small smile appeared. "Besides, I sleep very well when you're in my bed. I had no idea." His brow knit together as he contemplated the reality of his truth.
The brunette admitted in a hushed murmur, "I was nervous that you would leave me if I didn't submit to you completely—if I didn't agree to everything."
He shook his head to emphasize his urging words, "I'm not going anywhere, Anastasia." He reached over for her hand and stroked her knuckles with his thumb. He stared at their hands, processing his thoughts. When he found the right words, he squeezed her hand and glanced back up into her hazel eyes, "Besides, we're following what you want. And I am considering it too because it's working for me."
She propped her elbow on the table and leaned her cheek against her fist, staring at their holding hands. She said quietly, "I love that you considered my proposal, as off-putting for you as it was in the beginning."
"I know," Christian replied calmly, in a matter-of-fact tone.
Lifting a brow, she inquired him, "Do you now?"
"I just do." He smirked, "Trust me."
The surgeon's mouth watered and stomach grumbled as soon as Leandra came out with their food and drinks. Their conversation ended, and they both ate silently—she was too ravenous to say anything else, and while the dominant watched with slightly condescending approval, she ignored him and devoured everything on her plate.
When the waitress came out with the check, Anastasia placed her credit card on it.
Christian's eyes flared, replacing the card with his black Amex, sliding her card back towards her. "No," he admonished, nose flaring. "What do you think you're doing? Are you trying to emasculate me?"
Wanting desperately to roll her eyes, Anastasia replied, "I was paying for our meal since you showed me a great time in the morning sky." She added quickly, "And a woman paying for meal shouldn't emasculate your ego! If you feel that way, then that is your own feelings and not the woman's fault."
He snorted, scoffed, and scowled—in that order—as he listened to girl across from him. As he handed the check to the waitress that came back, he answered back simply, "I don't think so."
The brunette frowned. She snatched her card off the table and sighed in frustration, crossing her arms while her knee shook from under the table. Christian frowned from her reaction and said gently, "Anastasia, I appreciate the thought—I really do. But when it comes to our meals, I'd like to be the one paying for our food."
She pursed her lips, and he threatened her in a quiet tone, "Don't scowl."
You'll see. I'll pay a meal for us one day, and you'll have to deal with it the in the way I deal with everything from you, Mr. Grey.
…
Giggling together and holding hands after making it back to the hotel, the two traveled back up to Anastasia's apartment in flirtatious silence when their drive ended. When the brunette opened the door to her hotel room, she surrendered to the attack of his kisses, softly reciprocating against his soft lips against her lips, chin and neck. She hummed quietly, "We should probably get in the room first, Mr. Grey. Won't you come in and join me?"
His unrelenting passion and flurry of kisses stopped as he sighed sadly against her lips, "Oh, I do wish I could, Miss Steele, but I have some work to do. I'll be back in the evening to pick you up for dinner. Okay?"
Letting the unwelcome stab of disappointment impale the surgeon's heart, she sighed happily while holding his face, "I suppose that's fine, Mr. Grey." She was really smitten for her dominant, and she didn't want to let him go as she was enjoying every second with him. She was in love—a fine tightrope to be walking on.
"Thank you for everything per usual, Christian," Anastasia murmured against the small smile of his lips. "And…you know—for the more."
"My pleasure, Anastasia." He kissed her deeply, filling her mouth with his passion and ardor as she inhaled his scent.
As Christian pulled away, she sent her farewell, "I'll see you later."
"Try and stop me," he whispered as a promise before leaving her at the door.
The surgeon stared at him, watching him walk away. Before disappearing to make his turn to the elevator, Christian turned around and grinned, catching her gaze. She flushed and smiled, waving at him as he waved back—and then, he was gone.
Biting her lip, Anastasia pressed her hand against her stomach to quiet down the butterflies flying erratically around in her stomach. She closed the door and immediately began packing her clothes and items for tomorrow's flight, hoping that packing early would make the day go by more quickly. With her free time, she decided to get ready early for her evening with Christian. She showered and cleaned herself up, putting on a satin black dress with deep, plunging v-neckline. She strapped her heels on before drying her hair.
It was still too early in the day to be dressed so glamorously, especially the surgeon's plain taste, but she wanted to impress her date (hoping it would persuade him from having to buy her clothes). Tousling the waves of her dark curls with her fingers after finished drying them, the brunette grabbed her phone and sent a quick thank-you to Christian.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Soaring as opposed to Sore-ing
Date: May 17, 2018 12:20
To: Christian Grey
Sometimes, you really know how to show a girl a good time. I can't wait to see you tonight.
Thank you.
Ana x
Dr. Anastasia R. Steele
Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
Anastasia sat down on the leather swivel chair accompanied by the small office station by the bed. Grabbing the remote on the desk, she flipped the television on, letting a television soap opera fill the silence in her room. She crossed her leg and stared out the city of San Francisco through her window before receiving a notification of his reply.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Soaring vs Sore-ing
Date: May 17, 2018 12:24
To: Anastasia Steele
I'll take either of those over your snoring. I had a great time, too and can't wait to see you either.
But I always do when I'm with you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: SNORING?
Date: May 17, 2018 10:26
To: Christian Grey
You take that back because I DO NOT SNORE. And even if I do, there would be nothing wrong with that.
How rude and ungallant for even mentioning that. You are no gentleman, Mr. Grey.
Dr. Anastasia R. Steele
Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Somniloquy
Date: May 17, 2018 10:28
To: Anastasia Steele
Not once have I ever claimed to be a gentleman, Anastasia, and I think I have demonstrated that point to you on numerous occasions. I am not intimidated by your SHOUTY capitals. But I will confess to a small white lie: No—you don't snore, but you do talk, and it's fascinating.
What happened to my kiss?
Christian Grey
Cad & CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Since when did I do that? The surgeon's hazel eyes blinked at his response from her glaring phone. It wasn't as if she would ever know that she could do that, and she didn't have any roommates to tell her either.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Tell and Kiss
Date: May 17, 2018 10:32
To: Christian Grey
You are a cad and a scoundrel, certainly no gentleman.
I'll kiss you when once you share with me what I had said in my sleep, sir.
Dr. Anastasia R. Steele
Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sleeping, Talking Beauty
Date: May 17, 2018 10:35
To: Anastasia Steele
It would be most ungallant of me to say, and I have already been chastised for that.
But if you behave yourself, I may tell you this evening. I do have a meeting now.
Laters, baby.
Christian Grey
CEO, Cad & Scoundrel, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Your Convenience
Date: May 17, 2018 10:37
To: Christian Grey
Perfect timing for you, Mr. Grey.
I'll see what I can do to behave.
Dr. Anastasia R. Steele
Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
The hotel's room phone suddenly rang, causing her clumsy, eager fingers to hit send before being able to finish the rest of what was on her mind. She threw her cellular device on the bed and rushed over to the ringing telephone.
"Hello?" The surgeon answered.
"Hello there. May I please speak with Dr. Anastasia Steele?" A woman's voice asked.
"This is she." Anastasia made a face of confusion, "What can I do for you, ma'am?"
"Good morning, Dr. Steele. A man by the name Dr. Thomas is requesting to meet with you," she explained. "It is the hotel's policy and protocol to make sure that our guests are safe and secure. We don't send these random strangers to people's rooms nor give out that kind of information. Do you know this man, miss?"
The brunette widened her eyes, exclaiming, "I do know him!" Running a hand through her hair, she explained, "He and I are part of the event your hotel is hosting for the American Medical Board of Surgery."
"Ahh! I see, of course!" She declared in remembrance. "Would you still like to meet with him?"
"Yes, please."
"I'll let Dr. Thomas know then. I'll send him to the waiting area of the lobby, miss. You can meet him there."
"Thank you."
"Of course. Have a good day, Dr. Steele," she replied and hung up the phone.
Anastasia walked into the lobby, scanning the room for the old man that examined her the day before. Spotting him, she hurried over to him with clicking heels. His eyes blue eyes brightened and the corners of his eyes crinkled, standing up and slowly making his way to her.
"Dr. Thomas," the young doctor smiled, offering her hand for him to shake. "It's very good to see you again."
He gracefully took her hand into his, shaking it and smiling, "I should be saying the same, Dr. Steele. Thank you for meeting with me."
"It's a pleasure to see you," she said sweetly.
"You look very nice today. Are you meeting with someone?" He smiled, pointing at her outfit.
"Oh," she replied, taken aback by his flattering comment, "thank you. I am—I'm meeting with my…boyfriend." Her face blushed to the label, heart and stomach warming to the name and idea.
The old man nodded with an understand smile, "He's a very lucky man. Tell him I said that."
Blushing more from the sweet man's comment, she thanked him, letting him know she would. She asked momentarily, "Is there something that I can do? Did something happen with my exam?" The surgeon's meeting with the old doctor made her suddenly nervous, wondering if she failed.
He chuckled and raised his hand to stop her, reassuring her second after, "No, there is no problem. You have nothing to worry about." He gestured to the seat in front of him before sitting down, "But there is something that I can do for you, Dr. Steele. Please, sit."
"O-Oh. Okay…" The brunette said slowly, crossing her legs as she sat on the cushions of her chair, folding her hands in her lap before sitting up straight. "What do you mean by that?"
Dr. Thomas began, "As you know and as I've mentioned before, I am a cardiothoracic attending at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. Not to toot our own horn but we are one of the leading hospitals in the nation for patient care, Anastasia. The great Ellis Grey has also worked for our hospital before sadly passing."
Ellis worked there? She nodded her head eagerly as she listened, "Yes, I do know that. I had an interview and was planning on meeting with Dr. Parker next week actually."
"That's why I am here, Dr. Steele," the old man smiled politely. "Dr. Parker is our head of cardiothoracic surgery at Mayo. I'm sure other hospitals have reached out to you?"
"They have—I still have to hear from John Hopkins and Mass General, but I'm glad that I am hearing from you first, Dr. Thomas."
"Although I cannot disclose the information or the results of your test— which you should receive by midnight as that will be the time they will be posted on the website—you don't have a thing to worry about. However, that being said, Dr. Parker and I have agreed in our decision," he smiled proudly. "It's very rare for a surgeon your age to have successfully made it as far as you've come and at a young age; I'm sure you hear a lot of that, no doubt."
"It's just dedication and hard work, really, as I've always said," Anastasia said meekly and humbly.
"Which is exactly the type of people we are looking for," Dr. Thomas answered with bright eyes. "Dr. Parker and I would like to offer you a fellowship in our department."
Already? The young surgeon opened her mouth in disbelief.
The old man continued, "It's a rarity to find an individual such as you, an intelligent and gifted mind that can see beyond the average human. Watching you in our sessions when you took the exam and reading your article on your aortic dissection, I was able to see how brilliant and incredibly perceptive you truly are. A surgeon—a female surgeon—has made a medical discovery in one of the most difficult cardiothoracic surgeries dated in history. It is quite impossible to fix and solve, and yet you found a way to beat the odds." Dr. Thomas was very articulate with his gesturing hands, moving his hands around as he spoke, "Mayo would be proud to have someone like you, Anastasia, and please keep in mind that we don't give out these special offers to just anyone—not to a resident, and certainly not a twenty-two-year-old. But we both know you are more than the ordinary—if you don't, you should."
"Don't think the world of medicine doesn't know what you did, Dr. Steele," he commented with a lifting brow. "Everyone knows it. I've learned years and years of surgical techniques and medicine, truly mastering my craft and work in the arts of surgery to help save lives. It only becomes a greater joy and experience when you have found someone worthy of teaching and passing the knowledge to; someone with the same talent and gift—one that may even surpass my own, which only proves what you could do with what Mayo and I can teach you."
"You have a gift, Anastasia." His head and voice shook with disbelief, "Believe me when I tell you this, your Catherine Fox nomination is just the beginning of the greatness that you will become, the tip of the iceberg if you will. You're young, and I'm sure you have a lot to think about with all the choices you'll soon have to make, but Mayo and I just wanted to take advantage of the situation to show you how capable you are and that we see it."
"Th-Thank you, Dr. Thomas," the young surgeon stuttered, stunned by his kind words and the encouraging speech. "I'm so…I'm speechless. And flattered. And honored." She was rambling, and her thoughts and sentences were slowly loading like a slow computer.
Dr. Thomas shook his head with a kind smile, "We just simply want to extend our support to you, extend our hands and show you that we care about your future and your gifts."
"I know. I understand, sir." Anastasia was on cloud nine. Mayo Clinic is a top contender on her list, now.
He checked his watch on his wrist and stood up. The young surgeon stood up with him while he said, "I have a flight back to Minnesota to catch."
She bowed her head, "Thank you for meeting me. Thank you for the opportunity and also for being my examiner."
"Please, the honor was mine. I was very keen on meeting you and happy that I did," he grinned. "You don't have to make a decision, but please consider taking up on our offer, Dr. Steele. We will email you the details and benefits that come with working for us later on in the future, but for now, enjoy yourself. Take some time and really think about what you want."
"I will, sir. Thank you again," Anastasia smiled with immense joy, watching him walk off.
The young surgeon was excited as she went back to her room. She couldn't wait to tell Christian the good news of her first job offer as an attending, not as a resident. Her hard work was finally beginning to pay off, but she knew that her career threatened their blossoming relationship.
…
It was 6:30 p.m. and the brunette had a missed call from Christian. She was wondering whether he had finished working.
Damn it. It was on silent. Anastasia redialed the missed call, and he picked up within seconds, answering immediately with her name, "Anastasia."
"Hi there," she said shyly, blissfully warming to the sound of his voice. "I am ready whenever you are, Mr. Grey."
Christian was quiet on the phone for a second, and with a strained voice, he stated darkly with an ominous, yet contrite tone, "Anastasia—I'm sorry. I have to return to Seattle." He paused again, letting out deep sigh through his teeth, trying to sound unbothered and business-like, "Something has come up, and I am one my way to my jet."
"Oh. That's…" Anastasia stared at herself in the mirror, gazing up her dress and watching her shoulders slump as the brightness in her gold eyes faded. She blinked at her reflection, shaking her head and turning away as she returned to the call, "That's okay."
"Ana…I'm sorry. I—"
Forcing a chuckle and a happier tone in her voice to reassure him, "It's okay, Christian. You told me since day one that you were a busy man."
He probably has a lot on his plate, her thoughts chimed in, but her self-deprecating mind began doubting the happy events of their day. Was it too good to be true? Was he scared? Did I push too hard?
"I just…" He sighed in exasperation and frustration, "I wish I were with you, just know that."
"I understand. It's fine," she said reassuringly as best as she could with lightness in her voice. "I hope it isn't anything too serious?"
He muttered coldly, voice filled with repressed anger, "I have a situation to deal with. I'll see you Friday. I'll send Taylor to collect you from the airport if I can't come myself."
"Okay. I hope you sort out everything and that it goes well. Have a safe flight, Christian," the brunette said softly.
The sweetness in her voice relaxed the tone in his voice. Christian breathed, "You too, baby." His words made her sure that it was the same man she had kissed at her hotel room's door, and then he hung up.
Anastasia decided to continue wearing the dress until it was time for bed. It was dinner time, and she had a date with herself now. So, she went to the phone and began ordering herself room service as she flipped through the channels of the television.
Four hours passed by slowly as the brunette waited for her man's reply. She decided to send a quick message and check if he was all right.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Safe Arrival?
Date: May 17, 2018 22:32
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
I hope you're still alive, well, and with me (figuratively speaking that is). I am concerned if you made it back safely.
Thinking of you.
Your Ana. X
Dr. Anastasia R. Steele
Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
Three minutes later, her phone notified her of an email reply.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sorry
Date: May 17, 2018 22:36
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I have arrived safely, and please accept my apologies for not letting you know. I don't want to cause you any worry, but it's heart-warming to know that you care for me.
I am thinking of you, too, and as ever, looking forward to seeing you in two days.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Anastasia's fairytale prince was gone, and—whatever happened to him—he was replaced by the formal side of his personality.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Situation Handled?
Date: May 17, 2018 22:40
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
It should be evident at this point that I care deeply for you. You know that, don't you?
I hope things are okay back in Seattle.
Your Ana. x
P.S. Will tell me what I said in my sleep?
Dr. Anastasia R. Steele
Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Pleading the Fifth
Date: May 17, 2018 22:45
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I like that you care for me. The situation has not yet resolved, unfortunately.
With regard to your P.S: The answer is no.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Pleading Insanity
Date: May 17, 2018 22:48
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
I hope it was amusing, but know that I cannot accept any responsibility for what comes out of my mouth when I am unconscious. In fact, you may have simply misheard me.
A man of your advanced years is surely a little deaf.
Dr. Anastasia R. Steele
Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Pleading Guilty
Date: May 17, 2018 22:52
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
Sorry, could you speak up? I can't hear you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
The young doctor suddenly laughed at his joking comment, making herself comfortable in bed by adjusting her body under the sheets of the mattress as their technological banter continued.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Pleading Insanity Once Again
Date: May 17, 2018 22:54
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
Can you call the hospital and send for help because you're driving me crazy.
Dr. Anastasia R. Steele
Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
From: Christian Grey
Subject: I hope so…
Date: May 17, 2018 22:59
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I intend to do exactly that on the Friday evening you come back. Looking forward to it.
;)
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Grrrrrrr
Date: May 17, 2018 23:02
To: Christian Grey
I am officially displeased and pissed at you.
Good night.
Dr. Anastasia R. Steele
Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Wild Cat
Date: May 17, 2018 23:05
To: Anastasia Steele
Are you growling at me, Miss Steele?
I possess a cat of my own for growlers.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Anastasia didn't understand what he meant by "cat" and didn't want to know. She decided not to give the dominant the luxury of her response. She began undressing herself and stripping herself of her dress, deciding to wear it for him when she would see him on Friday. She readied herself for bed after cleaning up her face and brushing her teeth. Plopping herself under the sheets again, she closed her eyes but was unable to rest as he was on her mind.
Minutes later, her phone illuminated the in darkness of her room, and the screen revealed an email from her favorite person.
The brunette smiled, He must've been upset for me not responding. Her heart bloomed and her body warmed to the thought of him as she read his reply.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: What you said in your sleep
Date: May 17, 2018 23:20
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia,
I'd rather hear you say the words that you uttered in your sleep when you're conscious. That is my reason for not telling you.
It's late. Go to sleep, my sweet, eager, insatiable, intelligent, disarming, beguiling, and beautiful girl.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
The young surgeon grinned to his last flattering compliment. She hugged her phone to her chest before setting it aside on the night table. She brought the covers of her sheets up to her body before closing her eyes—picturing the words come off his beautiful lips. She thought about him and then what she had said in her sleep. And although he was the last thing on her mind, she was hopeful and excited for more—all the more that was to come. The more to happen all tomorrow when she got to see him again.
I hope you all had a fantastic weekend! The end is very, very near and approaching—we are almost at the finish line. Be prepared! The last chapter will be posted on Wednesday or Thursday, so look out! Thank you, as always for reading my work, and of course, let me know if you enjoyed it!~