Missy's notes: Thank you for the reviews, favorites, follows, and PM's. I am really glad you guys liked the previous chapter! As i said on my last note, I will pick up the phase starting on this chapter (I wont say anything as I don't want to spoil the fun for you guys). I hope you guys like it and as always, please forgive my errors.

E.L James owns this amazing trilogy

Chapter 11: Time and Distance

"Time heals what reason cannot." ~Seneca

My heart is pounding as the he runs the strands of the flogger over my feet, my thighs, my hips, my belly and my breasts. Each touch sends shivers down my spine, awakening my already jumpy nerves. Deep down the muscles in my belly clench for what feels like the hundredth time since we got here. We've been in the red room since he came back from his family dinner and I've been blindfolded, bound, shackled, punished and fucked by him ever since. I've lost count on how many orgasms he's given me. All I know is that with every ounce of pain he inflicted to me came with the hard relentless thrust of him entering me. He found me in my room getting my clothes ready for work the next day when he arrived and ordered me to be ready in his playroom instantly. It's my last night at Escala and I'm supposed to go back to my apartment, back to everything normal the next morning. I'm with him five nights every week and yet it feels like the time with him is not enough. I spend every day we're not together wishing I was with him. Tonight is even harder than usual because tomorrow is my birthday. And all I want for my birthday is to be with him. I know I can't, one because he would never agree if I asked him, and two, it's not my place to ask. Which is why I'll take the next best thing: spend the night before my birthday with him, here in this red room of pain and pleasure. 'You're so blind, Steele!'

"You're biting that delicious lip again Ms. Steele, do you know what that does to me?" he whispers, the slightest touch of his lips searing me so that I flinch and my breathing hitches involuntarily. I want to scream, mewl, or say something, to beg, but I can't; I'm not supposed to say anything.

"Answer me"

"No, Sir" I say bleakly

"I think you do, I think you're lying to me Ms. Steele" he says darkly. Once again he trails the strands of the leather flogger on me and out of nowhere he flicks it and hits me, down there… downtown. I let out a moan and pull against my restrains as the sensation once again attacks me ruthlessly. I mewl loudly as he now targets my breasts, hitting my elongated nipples with swift precision

"Shhh… you like that, do you?"

"Yes, Sir" I whimper. I can feel him standing in front of me, the flogger has disappeared and suddenly, he hits me again, hitting my sweet spot down south and I can't help but to cry out loud

"Oh please, Sir"

"Shall I make you come this way?"

"Yes, please Sir"

"Ah but it's not up to you, is it Ms. Steele?" he says, and I suppress a cry. It's agonizing, I know I don't need it as I've probably had enough orgasms to last a life time, but my body wants it anyway.

"Answer me!" he says, in such ferocity that I obey almost instantly

"No, S-Sir"

"I thought so… now what are we going to do about that?"

I'm out of words. I can't say or do anything. A submissive is supposed to take or do what the dominant gives. A submissive never asks; a submissive only waits. I'm only supposed to do as I'm told and wait. I made a mistake… mistakes mean punishment and punishments mean…

"Relax baby, I think I'll be nice with you for tonight, after all, it's only… three minutes until you turn twenty-two," he whispers. Despite the sensation, despite the insanity of it all, I freeze. I'm in shock, gratitude and awe: he knows. He knows it's my birthday tomorrow or rather, in three minutes.

"Of course I know Anastasia; I know everything about you, your birthday is no exception," he says, correctly reading my thoughts. I picture him smiling his superior smile, but then, I feel his hands on my face and the next thing I know, I blink and I'm staring at his beautiful face, his enigmatic smile looking down at me. I have no words. He leans down and kisses me hungrily and I'm lost. I don't notice that he's removed the leather cuffs until he starts to pull away from me. We're both panting and staring at each other for a moment until finally, he says, "Happy Birthday, Anastasia. You may speak."

"Thank you Sir," I pant.

"You're very welcome, we aim to please. Now, I will un-cuff your hands and feet, I want you to stand and hold on to this post. I want to fuck you one last time before we celebrate downstairs. I have something for you," he says.

~oOo~

After the "celebration" inside the red room, he leads me down to the great room to officially celebrate my birthday with champagne and fresh fruit; I guess he asked Gail to prepare this earlier. I am still reeling from the surprise and it's really very thoughtful of him to do this. My god, he is amazing.

"You may look at me Ana; this isn't a scene" he says, breaking my reverie. I look up to meet his fond gray eyes smiling at me.

"Thank you, Sir," I say, returning his smile

"I have something for you," he says after a moment, standing to retrieve a red box from nearby and putting it on the table. I stare at the box for a moment wondering what it is, but already knowing two things; it's from Cartier and I'm positive that whatever it is, it's expensive. Really expensive. 'Humor him Ana' my inner goddess says while my subconscious looks at me with disgust, the word 'ho' written on her forehead.

"Err… thank you, Sir" I manage to blurt out though in my mind this is completely unnecessary. He's given me way too many… gifts already; he's already given me a car to replace my Beetle, a wardrobe that could rival Kate's closet, a laptop, a new phone and he even puts money in my personal bank account and now these gifts too.

"Ana, we talked about this…" he says patiently, though I can tell he's barely keeping his temper in check, "open it," he adds changing his tone from sweet tone to dominant. I obey immediately. Inside the red box lies an exquisite necklace with a matching bracelet. There is a thick platinum chain and in the center is a diamond encrusted padlock charm pendant that matches the charm on the bracelet

"It's…" a collar! My subconscious says, aghast while my inner goddess ignores her and smiles appreciatively, lovingly at my man, eyes glassy with tears as she says 'they're lovely.' Taking a deep breath, I stare at him and say, "It's beautiful; thank you, Sir."

"Good. I wanted to give you something that you will wear every day, that will remind you of me; something that represents you belonging to me and only me, in an understated way" he says. Really? He calls a diamond padlock and platinum chain & bracelet understated?

In a BDSM context, a collar is a devise of any material placed around the neck of the submissive. It is also a term used to show ownership of one partner by another. It's a representation, a discrete representation of me belonging to him. Deep down, I know that this isn't right; that I don't belong to anyone. I know I should refuse this gift, but I love him, and in that context, I do belong to him because I want to be with him, so I swallow the dirt and pride with a smile and say, "Thank you for the beautiful gift and for tonight, Sir."

~oOo~

September 10, 2012, present day.

I sit on the bench in the sitting area atop the apartment building, swirling the remaining contents of the champagne that Alex brought as my birthday present, remembering how I celebrated my birthday last year. Amazing how things change in an instant; last year I spent hours in a red room, bound and blindfolded on a four poster bed while he… while he took his time doing all sorts of kinky shit to me. Back then, I would think it's a delicious memory, now however, well it's still delicious, but it's also disgusting, especially when the kinky man you love so much you would do anything he wants, simply threw you away like some kind of toy he was done playing with. The same night last year, he'd given me jewelry; a ridiculously expensive collar disguised as jewelry that he wanted me to wear every day to remind me that I belong to him and of course, his way of telling everyone in an understated way that I was his… property; his pet.

I take a deep, relaxing breath to stop the anger from flaring. 'Very good, Steele; that shit is over, you're in a much better place now, think of the blessings' my subconscious mutters, reviewing my many notes from Sara. The pain that I was carrying when I started to travel and eventually joined Norwood House has subsided thanks to Sara Norwood's decision to hire and welcome me graciously into her home. She's been there for me ever since I decided to take her challenge and move here to London and join Norwood House; not only as my employer, but also my teacher and mentor, but most importantly, as my friend. She patiently and constantly listens to my struggles and always has a 'word of wisdom' ready to not only guide me, but also to make me smile.

She managed to stop my crying and the dam from overflowing by replacing it with work; a lot of work to keep me from thinking about…him. And it has been the most productive, challenging, fulfilling months of my life. I find myself looking forward to the next meeting with an author, the next lesson in accounting and finance, planning and marketing, nothing but the next work day – focusing on anything but regrets and wallowing. None of it is easy. In a way, I feel like I'm a recovering alcoholic. There are days when I am okay and there are times when it's the exact opposite; I would hear or see or think of something that makes me fall of the wagon, so to speak, and Sara would act like my counselor. She would stay, talk, listen and encourage me the whole time for which I am always grateful. There are also times when I'm remorseful for being so needy. That's when Sara says I am under "the gloomy London weather"as she likes to call it.

Since deciding to stay here in London with Sara, I'm beginning to realize that what I did to myself. I made the decision to be with him no matter what and to do whatever he wanted; to be his submissive, and the reality of that choice is starting to disgust me. I suppose that's what time does, aside from healing the wounds; it makes you realize how much you screwed up and forces you to face up to the implications of those choices every day. And what disgusts me even more is the fact that, even though I'm beginning to hate myself for letting him do whatever he pleased, I'd gladly do it all over again. In spite of my rigorous work schedule, I still find myself thinking about him and above all, I know that I still love him, in spite of the pain he inflicted on my body and soul. This simple fact makes me all the more disgusted with myself.

"The celebration is inside my dear not here," I hear the haughty and slightly irritated voice of my guru who always knows when I'm having one of my moments and who always knows when it's time to break my reverie. I turn give her a smirk.

"Kate called to wish me a happy birthday and it's getting a bit loud with Alex singing at the top of his lungs," I say, while she rolls her eyes and shakes her head in agreement.

"Well, you're not on the phone with dear Kate anymore are you? And, given the look on your face, I'd say you're having one of your moments and that whatever you're thinking is giving you that gloomy London weather again, might I remind you that it's your birthday and we're supposed to be celebrating your first birthday here with us," she babbles, giving me my cue to roll my eyes at her

"You know me well. She called to greet me; I got to speak with her and our other friends. I miss them that's all; and well, you know what happens when I start to think of home," I mumble. At this she decides to join me

"You miss home and you're drinking. Yes, yes… a bad combination," she says, eyeing my now empty champagne flute.

"The drinking is for my celebration," I reason. "I thought of how I celebrated my birthday last year and started to compare it to this year… you know, I started thinking about time and stuff" I finally confess.

"Predictable," Sara huffs.

"I'm sorry," I mumble.

"Don't be. Ana, you are still in the process of getting over it, you've only been here a few months, and you need more time, my dear. You're making progress, a lot of progress, which is another reason why we're celebrating in the first place. You've improved so much since the first time I saw you. You don't look like you're a bloody corpse, there's color in your cheeks, you look like you're having fun rather than wishing you didn't wake up in the morning and most importantly, you don't look like the girl from a few months ago, who was ogling in front of Norwood House like an idiot who didn't seem to know what to do with herself. You no longer look lost. You're here and you've been working very hard, you found good authors with good stories to tell; business is doing well and its your birthday, so cheer up, child, or no more champagne for you!" she says, patting my shoulders.

"You're right, now is not a good time to be under the weather," I acquiesce, deciding to change the subject. "You're forgetting my accounting, auditing and marketing accomplishments," I say jokingly, knowing Sara's disapproval of arrogance.

"You're right, all things considered, but I don't like your arrogance child! You've barely glimpsed the tip of the iceberg, so keep your head down. Your finance skills surprised me; but your marketing and people skills, however, need a lot of work," she says sternly.

"Hey! You and I know that I like to work behind the scenes, so no need to work on my people skills. I don't know what we'll do with the marketing bit, but it's just not my forte" I complain, "And don't get your knickers in a twist, old hag, I'm just playing with you," I say chuckling at her horrified reaction

"Good. I'm not teaching you to become an arrogant arse. No one likes to work with arrogant wankers," she fires back and adds, "If I was able to stop your crying my dear, then your marketing and people skills will be a piece of cake. It's simple: you use what you have and get creative. First step is accepting your assets… but we'll talk about that later, come now, everyone's waiting. It's your party after all, I want you to have fun, you've earned it," she says as she gets up and motions for me to follow.

"Thank you Sara, for the party, the lemon cake and for everything," I start but she stops me

"Don't thank me just yet Ana, like I said: tip of the iceberg, we've only just begun and there's more work to be done"

"How are you today Mr. Grey? It's been a while," Dr. John Flynn, my long time shrink says, as I take my seat. He's been my shrink for years and that is saying something. I've been through practically every shrink in the whole Washington state and just like submissives, they never lasted, except for him. I don't know what he sees in me and I don't know why, despite our many disagreements whenever we meet, I still find myself going back for more… talk.

"Fucked up as usual Flynn, what did you expect?" I say dryly, routinely.

"I don't know Mr. Grey, perhaps a bit of… enthusiasm," Flynn says, as he smiles patiently at me. Fucking prick.

"You and I both know I don't do happy," I shoot back. The only other person who knows my shit aside from Elena is John Flynn and that's only because he's my shrink and he's signed an NDA.

"Then what do you do?" he smirks. Smug bastard.

"I fuck John," I snap dryly while he just shakes his head.

"Would you say you also fuck your empire?" Flynn says, taking the latest edition of Wall Street Journal, which highlights a recent acquisition by GEH in Taiwan, from the side pocket of his chair and placing it on the coffee table between us.

"No. It's the only thing that I don't mess up, Doctor," I acquiesce.

"Then we both agree that you don't always, screw things up," Flynn points out. "Now, tell me Mr. Grey, aside from conquering the second biggest shipyard in Taiwan, what have you been doing as of late?" Flynn continues, thankfully changing the subject.

I stare at him for a moment, contemplating on whether or not I should tell him that I've been hell bent on finding a girl who left Seattle months ago, just as much as I was hell bent of getting the Taiwan deal and dealing with the impossible demands of the Taiwanese company done, but so far, instead of accomplishing the simpler task of tracking, I manage to close the other more complicated task in fucking record time while the simpler task which should have been done ages ago is still… fucking hanging in the clouds. 'It's a simple task, Grey. It will be done you just have to wait until the team finds her.'

"I've been trying to get some sleep," I finally manage, preferring to keep the situation... private. It's true, I haven't been sleeping properly, worse than the usual since the day I terminated the contract; since she left.

"I beg your pardon?" Flynn looks up, seemingly confused.

"You heard me; I've been having a hard time sleeping lately, for months actually, and lately I feel…" I let the thought trail as I search for the right word to tell him without divulging a load of crap.

"You feel…?" Flynn says, repeating the words, coaxing me to finish.

"Restless," I hear myself say. It makes sense, I suppose. I've been on edge or restless for a while, on top of the lack of sleep, and I've no clue why. It's something that I can't put a finger on. I know that it's not about work; I know it has something to do with her… Anastasia Rose Steele: the girl who has been starring in my dreams every night for months... Ever since I terminated our contract, her face, more importantly her eyes, those eyes haunt me. Shit! Concentrate, Grey.

"Why is that?" Flynn responds, giving me his full attention. Why? Well, this girl with big blue guileless eyes has been appearing in my dreams every fucking night for the past seven months or so, all because I fucking terminated our contract after she told me she loves me and I've been trying to look for her but she fucking disappeared. That's fucking why, but even I don't understand it. No one will understand. If anything, they would think I've gone fucking crazy (not that I wasn't already). I've got enough fucked up issues laid out for everyone to see already, this is something that can be easily resolved once Welch and his team manage to fucking find her.

"I don't know, you tell me; that's why I'm here," I say dryly, impassively.

"I won't be able to help unless you tell me everything, Christian," Flynn says, as always, trying to wheedle information from me the best way he can.

"What do you expect, Doctor? It's the same old shit!"

"How many hours of sleep have been getting?"

"I'll be very lucky to get five hours of sleep"

"Okay… tell me about the dreams and what you do after."

"Recurring nightmares from my childhood, you already know this shit John!" I start to protest, but he just stares at me. "The crack whore lying dead on the floor and then the pimp walking in, finding me and then he starts to kick me! Sometimes it's just one, a lot of the times it's both," I pause, thinking about the third dream… where I would either be me back sitting in study or in the great room or the inside my playroom with the same girl, with the same sad blue eyes filled with pain. I take a deep breath, deciding not to include it and add, "I wake up screaming and covered in sweat. It's impossible to sleep after that, so I try to play"

"You try to play…"

"The piano," I say exasperatedly. Christ! What else?

"I know that," Flynn responds with a patient smile

"They why the fuck are you asking?" I say, shoving my hand through my hair in irritation.

"I am not asking Christian; I am merely pointing out why you are trying to play the piano to, shall we say, relax your nerves and recover from those dreams, it's obviously not enough?" He reasons, he's got a fucking point. "We both know that you are a good pianist."

I shrug and say, "I don't know."

"Something's changed, Christian. You and I both know it, something triggered these dreams. It may be because of work, stress or something and I can't help you unless you tell me about it."

"Work and stress go hand in hand Flynn, and like you already pointed out, business is doing fine, I am confident that this isn't about that" I say dryly. It's about a girl. A maddening girl who refuses to be found. But instead of telling Flynn anything, I just shook my head and starred at my shrink expectantly waiting for a solution to a problem that he doesn't know... yet.

"Then it must be your personal life then," Flynn concluded, hitting the jackpot but I refuse to give in.

"What about it?"

"If it isn't about business then it's usually the other way around, Mr. Grey. Now tell me, what has been happening on your personal life as of late?" The doctor says.

"Nothing new, if you're asking about my family, I haven't spoken to any of them since my birthday," I say lamely.

"That's it?" Flynn prods, we both know what he's trying to say or ask. "Let me rephrase Mr. Grey: tell me about your other private life. The last time we spoke…"

"I don't have a sub, not anymore" I finally admit. I couldn't remember the last time Flynn and I spoke, I just know that Anastasia was still in my life and everything was… great.

"Do you think…?" Flynn starts to say, but cut him.

"No. This shit has nothing to do with my contractual relationships," I lie. It has everything to do with a girl who was my submissive, but I won't tell you about her. For some reason that I can't explain, I feel a strong need to protect her identity. She's different from the others...For some strange reason, I don't want anyone, not even Flynn to think of her as just a submissive...she was...she is...more.

"Maybe it does. You just won't admit it." Flynn says after a while. "Whenever you're ready to talk about it Christian, I'm here. In the meantime, I'm afraid that all I can do to help you with your sleep issues is to prescribe you with sleep medications along with a list of activities that can help you relax. Yoga for example…"

"You know I don't like prescription medicines and I'm not into any of that relaxation shit" I respond as I start to get up

"Perhaps a new partner?" Flynn says and I freeze. Did he just say that? Is he fucking serious?

"I don't need a partner," I say as I continue to make my way out, ignoring his pleas for me to stay. I don't need anything, I just need… her.

~oOo~

The distinct sound of the elevator announcing that I am now a mile high in the air interrupts my musings about the earlier conversation I had with Dr. John Flynn. I've arrived to my next appointment; the business meeting, at least that's what she calls it, with Elena Lincoln. Elena and I go way back. I met her when I was fifteen and she changed my life in many different ways. She knew what I was and she recognized and understood what needed to be done. She knew that the only way to control an out of control teenager like me was through submission. It worked like a charm. She taught me a lot of things throughout the six years I was her submissive. She stopped my drinking and fighting, she made me focus my energy on something useful. She thought me to be capable, and she is the reason behind my impassive mask. She taught me control and even helped me start my business by loaning me the seed money to start my company. She believed in me when no one, including my parents, believed that I could make it without a college degree. She is one of the reasons I am who I am.

"Christian, it's been a long time, how are you?" Elena gushes when I walk into the private room I've arranged at the Mile High Club. She's wearing her usual black outfit: a formfitting black dress showcasing her body and black Louboutin heels and sparkling diamond jewelry.

"I'm well Elena, you?" I respond, letting her kiss me on both cheeks before we take our seats. It's not until she started absentmindedly playing with the padlock pendant that I finally realize I recognize the sparkling jewelry she's wearing: platinum chain, diamond encrusted padlock charm pendant with the matching bracelet – all custom made from Cartier. The jewelry I commissioned last year as birthday present for a girl. The jewelry I gave to a girl after I fucked her in my playroom until the clock struck midnight for her twenty-second birthday. I scramble to look at the calendar on my phone and confirm the date. Shit!

"Christian darling, are you okay?" Elena asks, just as our server pours our wine, her voice full of concern as she reads the alarm on my face. I glare at the server who hastily retreats.

"Those jewelry… where did you get that necklace and bracelet?" I respond, choosing to ignore her question. I have to know where and how she got them.

"I'm glad you're okay my dear, I'm beginning to think that you've disappeared from the face of the earth, I haven't seen you in ages" Elena says, rolling her eyes like a fucking teenager, while sipping her wine, triggering my anger.

"Where the fuck did you get those?"

"Jesus, Christian, will you relax? I'm just being nice," Elena says, pacifyingly.

"You're being sarcastic, now answer my question!" I demand.

"Denise Kavanagh. Her daughter Katherine was helping her friend sell things. I can't remember the whole story but It involves an upset girl who was in a relationship with a cross dresser, I think, it's a quite an amusing story. I think the girl caught the poor man in action, wearing one of her dresses" she chuckles "anyway, Katherine went to her mother, Denise went to her friends, and well, they were able to sell the poor girl's things around. Denise said the items are really nice and almost new and I believe her. Denise herself got one of the girl's Birkin bags. She paid full price, but at least she didn't have to wait two years to get it. Anyway, I didn't want to haggle and paid full price for these. I know they are custom Cartier and they are just exquisite."

"I see," Is all I can say, taking a swig of the wine as I process the information.

"Why do you ask?" Elena says with an amused expression.

"Nothing; I thought I recognized them from somewhere," I say trying to be nonchalant. The server reappears with a plate of appetizers.

"Oh my god…" she whispers, registering shock as she covers her mouth.

"What?" I say, not getting what she's trying to say.

"That was you, was it?" she says with utter malice. Elena can read between the lines, and unlike most other people, she knows me too well.

"Excuse me?" I say impassively, making it look like I genuinely don't know what she's talking about.

"The girl… the expensive wardrobe, the custom-made jewelry…"

"What the fuck are you talking about? You think that I'm a fucking cross-dresser? Have you fucking lost your fucking mind?" I bite back, masking my horror with anger. For some reason that I don't understand and for the second time today, I feel compelled to keep this shit about Anastasia a secret, even to the people I trust.

"No of course not…" Elena says in horror. Raising the hand that has the matching bracelet towards her chest.

"Then don't you fucking make those fucking accusations to me!"

"Christian, you're blowing things out of proportion! I'm merely saying that maybe the whole cross dresser thing is a roux. Will you please relax and mind your manners!" Elena says but I just glare at her.

After a while, Elena sighs and raises both her hands in defeat and says, "Alright, I suppose that wasn't you. Enough of my jewelry; let's talk about the business."

"Lets" he says dryly

And with that, we start to talk about the progress of the Esclava chain over dinner. It's a chain of high end beauty salons Elena founded and I financially backed as a silent partner, after her divorce from her husband Linc, the CEO of Lincoln Timber. She was a bored trophy wife with a secret lifestyle, a lifestyle that she introduced to me. The lifestyle we shared together for six years until Linc found out and he beat the shit out of her effectively ending the Domme/sub relationship, though not our friendship. She mentored me when I decided to become a dominant; she even volunteered to sub for me at the start and later supplied me with possible submissives until I met a certain brunette by the name of Anastasia, who stumbled into my office for an interview and captivated me from the moment I laid eyes on her. I had to have her. I pursued her until she agreed…and then I fucked it all up because she said she loved me… I stopped everything, cut everyone while I was with Anastasia; again, I feel the need to protect her identity from everyone. I still don't get why, but I do know that Anastasia was— is different from the rest. The five nights instead of two I've spent with Anastasia filled the void that one ever could, and while she was my submissive, I didn't feel the need to see or speak to anyone; not Flynn and not even Elena.

It didn't really surprise me when Elena starts to steer the conversation from business to my personal life after I approve the expansion proposals. This is, after all, sort of a reunion since I haven't seen or spoke to her in months. Elena likes to talk... that's putting it mildly because the truth is, she likes to put her nose to the ground and meddle into other people's business. She knows that I know and hate it, but she doesn't give a fuck. She never does. She starts subtly by asking me about GEH, which is, growing and expanding, as expected. I tell her about the newest acquisitions, the shipyard in Taiwan and the tech company in Japan that I'm currently working on. She then proceeds to ask me about my family, who I readily admit that I haven't seen nor visited since my birthday.

"Goodness Christian, that was months ago!" Elena reprimands.

I shrug and say, "I've been busy."

"No wonder Grace is worried. We have lunch every other week and she told me she's been worrying about you. You've been busy and closed off. She's been worried that you don't give yourself time to relax and enjoy the fruits of your labor" Elena smiles mirthlessly, I narrow my eyes already expecting what she is about to say next. "But you and I know that she's wrong," she adds, tilting her head to the side.

"I don't know what you're talking about Elena; I've been busy with work," I lie effortlessly though I know that she can see right through me. And I'm right, Elena starts to laugh.

"Oh Christian," she says after a moment. "Don't lie to me! Yes, you have been busy with business, but don't lie to me about not having time to relax. I know you've been busy with the mysterious toy you found ages ago, how is she? I guess she's been good, lasting for what, a year now? And I still haven't met her. You know I really should meet her sometime, that way I can give her pointers and at the same time I would know what to look for next time you –" She babbles but stops when she sees what must be the horrifying and angry look on my face. I hear something crashing on the floor followed by our server and Taylor rushing in.

"Christian, what the hell is wrong with you?" she says, horrified and clearly distraught by my actions.

"Nothing. We're through here," I announce, startling her even more.

"No we're not, something is clearly bothering you, we need to talk," she says hastily rushing in front of me, but all I can see is the jewelry on her chest. The padlock pendant that is supposed to belong to the one girl I've been wanting to see ever since the day I realized she's gone. Like every time I think of her, I feel the ever expanding void in my chest and that hallow feeling that been eating me alive.

"Business meeting is over Elena. Effective immediately, you will only contact me through email. Do not call or visit or make any effort to contact me until I say otherwise or I will end our business relationship. Do you understand?" I say as I walk out, not even bothering to wait for her response. I let Taylor lead the way and escort me to the elevator, which thankfully, is empty. As the elevator doors close, I glare at him and say, "Call Welch, tell him I've had enough waiting. I don't fucking care how you have to do, do whatever it fucking takes to find her, understand?"

"Sir," he nods curtly. Right now, all I fucking want to do is to see her to stop all this… madness. But until then, I have to fucking wait.

More notes from Missy: First of all, I would like to thank Contrite Shadows for the sharp inputs and my cyber bff, for always helping me put the emotions I want to put into words (if you know what I mean). The theme of this chapter, as you all know, focuses on the progress of our favorite characters, Ana's progress especially. If you're recovering from a broken heart, I hope you can relate to it. Time heals the wounds but it wont let us forget that easily. Gradually we start to realize the mistake or what we did wrong and when we do, we start to resent ourselves. This chapter also highlights the difference between the mentors, Sara (for Ana) and... the bitch troll... I intend to highlight the difference all throughout this story. Speaking of... I threw in a little curve-ball on this chapter... anyone saw it? anyhoo, I don't want to babble, I hope you liked it!;)

Reviews are highly appreciated