A/N: Quick question. I came across a book on tape version of FSoG on Youtube. The actress, narrator or whatever kept pronouncing Elena as Ella-nah, it was very off putting for me as I pronounce it E-lay-nah. How do you guys say that name?
Emi17: Thank you, look for it.
Narration: Ana has had a disturbing night. What started out as fun, took a sharp left turn. Christian finally takes a step in the right direction.
oo0oo
Ana
"Nooooo," I struggle and fight, my legs kick like pistons, but I get nowhere. "Noooo," I cry out again. I heave with all my might and feel myself falling; I hit the floor with a resounding thud. "Owww, what the fuck," I mutter from the floor helplessly tangled in the sheets. The room is dark, and I hear running footsteps in the hallway. Seconds later the door flies open and the light from the hall illuminates the room just enough to reveal that the bed is empty. The room is suddenly flooded with blinding light.
"Ana!" Elliot looks frantically around the room.
"Over here," I blink against the brutal illumination. "I'm fine Elliot, it was a bad dream, I think. Would you do me a favor and check the bathroom?" I say feeling a bit ridiculous.
He hesitates only a second and moves toward the en suite. "Uh, what am I checking for? He asks sounding more than a little confused.
"Ozzie." I blurt with more force than I intended.
He walks into the bathroom and out a second later. "Ozzie left over two hours ago Ana. He was piss drunk, so I had Dozer drive him home."
"Dozer?" I ask completely confused, finally extricated from the sheets.
"Uh," He chuckles, "Sorry, work nickname for Jimmy Hairston; short for bulldozer, long story, not important. What happened in here, you were screaming, 'no'?"
Shaking my head to clear it, I explain. "I had a dream that I don't want to discuss, and I thought he was in here." I glance at him through my lashes and blushing to my hair line. "It seemed very real," I add quietly, my voice hoarse and my throat scratchy from screaming.
"Well, um, ok," He stammers.
"Tequila is evil." I say, "The devil's own elixir."
"Yeah, it can be. Your bff just got through bowing to the porcelain God. She was sitting with her head against the tub when we heard you screaming and I ran out to see who was killing you. You two are putting me through my paces tonight." He murmurs the last bit while running his hands through his hair, family habit I guess. "Come on, let's get your bed straightened and you can go back to sleep."
"No," It comes out too quick. I blow out a sigh and say. "I'm going to get some tea, and take the Advil Gail left for me. I look over at the nightstand and neither the Advil nor the glass of water is there. I look down and there are the pills and the empty glass that somehow managed not to break.
"Can you get me a towel; I knocked over my glass of water."
"Don't worry about it Ana, it's just water."
"Would you just hand me a towel so I can soak it up, please."
After wiping up my mess, I throw on a pair of red yoga pants, a tank top and a beige slouchy sweater and go to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea and dissect this dream. Cup of steaming tea in hand I make for the deck, just as I touch the door handle Ryan steps out of the utility room.
"Ma'am, can I ask you to stay inside please, the alarm has been set."
In my already agitated mood I want to take his head off, but I settle for a glare followed by an exaggerated eye roll and stomp off to the family room. I'm comfy in one of the overstuffed oxford club chairs, TV providing background noise, I start my postmortem. I have to admit I am ashamed at the path my subconscious mind took. My mind and body have betrayed me. I can't believe I had that kind of dream with him as the lead. Why would I dream of sex with a man who has hurt and humiliated me in the worse way possible; what is the dream trying to tell me? That you still love him and you've got a lot to work out. Time to talk. Yeah, I don't think so, there's nothing he could say that I want to hear. I don't want to know anymore about his love for another woman. I quickly stuff that train of thought down, and try another track. And why did I think Ozzie was there? Fuck, that was jarring. How did Ozzie get in the mix; I couldn't be less interested in him. I am profoundly messed up. I have to get a reference for a shrink, I've got to let this shit out to somebody, family and friends won't do in this situation. Just then Kate comes wobbling into the room.
"Hey Steele, you still talking to me?" She asks as she flops onto the couch.
"Barely, I've got a serious bone to pick with you, but we'll talk when we are both sober," My tone brokering no question.
"What were you screaming about earlier? You scared the hell out of me and Elliot."
"Had a disturbing dream," I say dryly.
"Spill," She says on a yawn. "What happened?"
"I dreamt I was having some really good sex with Christian, and if that wasn't disturbing enough, somehow, for some reason, I thought Ozzie was in my room trying to get into my panties, and I freaked." I relay with my eyes closed, head resting on the back of the chair.
"Mmmmm," She hums, "He was into you, do you like Oz-man?"
"Oz-man? Where do you and Elliot come up with these names? And no, I couldn't be less interested," I mirror my earlier thought, "but that's really not the point is it?"
"You know we are going to feel like shit in the morning, and we've got the last fitting for our dresses for the ball at 1." Kate responds as if she heard nothing I said.
"Yeah, I know, that's why I'm never drinking tequila again." I get up and shoo her down the couch so I can lie down. "Move down Kate."
"My feet aren't going to fit," She complains.
"Then go get in your bed."
"No, you go get in your bed."
"I'm not going back up there tonight; I've got a serious case of the creeps." We both drop off to sleep, and thankfully I dream no more tonight.
oo0oo
Taylor
Here we go again. Is someone playing a joke on me, am I in the movie Ground Hog Day or something? This asshole has no idea the shit storm that's about to rain down on his head, cause the Nooz just outed one Paige Dennison. And I'm the lucky bastard that gets to inform him. I cue up the article on my Blackberry and head off to his room. This will be a fine wake up call for Mr. Cheat on my wife with a brazen trollop.
Mr. Grey You've Been Played - Well friends, the plot thickens. Hold onto your seats, the Nooz has learned that Paige Dennison, reportedly the other woman in Grey's marriage, has been hedging her bets. Apparently Ms. Dennison hooked up with Mariner's star pitcher David Perez about two months ago during a team event at the Georgian, where she works as a hostess. Our sources tell us that Perez and Dennison have been cozy for weeks. The attached photo of Perez and Dennison in a cozy embrace was taken on Saturday, June 7th outside the Zigzag Cafe, just one day after she was photographed with Grey at SkyCity. Only the best for this girl, billionaire business men, professional athletes, guess it takes a lot to keep a gold digger. It will be interesting to see how Mr. Grey and Mr. Perez react to this Nooz. Watch this space, more to come in this shocking quadrangle."
Half way up the stairs I can hear him screaming his head off; I double time it to his bedroom. I don't stop to knock, just open the door to see him thrashing around on the bed. This is a bad one; no doubt the events of last night set him off.
"Christian! Christian!" I don't want to touch him for fear of getting cold clocked. "Christian, wake up!" Cold, crazed eyes lock onto mine. Shit, he has no idea where he is. I back up.
oo0oo
Christian
For the second time in as many days Taylor is in my bedroom waking me up. I just stare at him.
"Sir, are you with me."
"What. Is it. Taylor." I bite out.
"Something you need to see. They have her identity." He hands me his phone, and I read the Nooz article, if you can call it that.
"I could give a shit about any of that." I say as I flop back onto my pillow, "What time is it?"
"It's just after 8 Sir, and Welch called to say the information you wanted has been emailed.
"Thank you Taylor." I lay there a few minutes more, reliving that horrible nightmare.
Ana is beautiful, standing at the rail of a slick schooner, in that sexy bikini she had on yesterday. The wind sweeping through her long tresses, she is magnificent. A man sidles up behind her and wraps his arms around her tiny waist. She giggles then gives him a sly, knowing smile as his hands glide up to cup her pert breast. He pinches her nipples and her head drops back to his chest in utter bliss. He turns pulling her with him as they descend to the cabins below.
I know the man is not me and my stomach pitches and rolls. These thoughts are not productive, as they make me want to curl into the fetal position and rock, so I swing my feet to the floor, let's get this day started. It's time for Paige to get her walking papers. I don't even bother to dress, I pad over to my study in my pajama pants to read Welch's detailed background check.
I ought to fucking fire him for incompetence. This information should have been in the first fucking background check. I punch in his phone number and growl….
"Tell me why I shouldn't fucking fire you right now," When he picks up his phone.
"Morning Mr. Grey, those are sealed juvie records, under a name other than the one you gave me. It took a lot of cross checking and a number of other less than ethical methods to get that information. The first background check was all there was on Paige Dennison, you got everything I got. When you gave me the ok to dig further, I did, and now you have that too." He drones.
"Fine," I disconnect the call.
Well, well, things are not at all what they seem. This should be titled The Tale of Two Paige's. I settle in to scour this report. An hour later I know everything and I feel sick, I exposed my entire family to this, and if anything happens to them it will be entirely my fault. I can't believe I let this happen. Something stinks about her BDSM beginnings also, and I'll find out once she gets to Escala.
Paige Elise Putnam born December 24, 1982 not 1986 as her erroneous, or bogus shall I say, background check had me believing. Parents married 36 years, still together, two sisters, one older, Audra 33, and one younger, Bernadette 28, still in Canada. No contact with any of them in the last 7 years.
Starting at the age of twelve a string of petty juvenile crimes, defacing property, and shop lifting, that escalated to car theft, and burglary, finally graduating to home invasion robbery where an elderly man died of a heart attack during the commission of the crime. All of this took place in Canada. Paige was a very bad girl from a good upper middle class family that made several attempts at intervention until she ended up in the Canadian version of juvenile detention. Once out, they unleashed her on American relatives in upstate New York. She's been on the straight and narrow ever since. Shit, I've exposed everyone in my family to this piece of trash. I think the clinical diagnosis is sociopath. I'll have to run that by Flynn. First things first, I grab my phone.
*Escala, 1 o'clock.* CG
With only a moment's hesitation because it's Sunday morning, I dial Flynn's cell phone number. He picks up on the third ring.
"Christian, good…morning?" I hear the question in his voice, no doubt wondering if I am having some sort of emotional crisis.
"Good morning John, I'll get right to it, can you see me later this afternoon, say around 3."
"Uh, actually either earlier or later works better for me, is this an emergency, you do realize it's Sunday, don't you? He sounds as if he is talking to a daft child
"That's fine, how about 5 then?" I need to pin him to a time.
"Yes, 5 works for me, but you haven't answered my question, is this an emergency?" He pushes back.
"Not an emergency per se, but urgent, the past couple of days have been eventful, I have been making poor decisions. I am feeling particularly violent. I have a meeting with Paige in about three hours where I am going to get some answers, then, I am going end our relationship. Anastasia was prancing around in a bikini at a BBQ last night. I want, no, I'll need your help to decompress. Is that good enough for you?"
"I'll see you at 5 o'clock sharp. Christian, will someone be with you when you speak with Paige?" He's concerned I may hurt her, so am I.
"Yes, Taylor. I'll see you then." I swipe the phone to disconnect. I see a text from Paige.
*I knew you wouldn't make it all weekend, see you at 1, I can't wait.* PD
*Neither can I.*CG
I like the fact that she is over confident; that will work in my favor.
A quick text to Taylor to let him know I will be ready to leave for Escala in 30 minutes. On the ride to Escala I examine the near brawl after I mistakenly informed Elliot of Grace's meeting with Paige.
"I'll call her what I damn well please." Elliot snapped at me. "She was just on my shit list before, now she's on my hit list for fucking with my mother." I knew his half inebriated state was helping to fuel his tirade, though everything he said was correct. "If she was any kind of woman, she wouldn't have been fucking around with you, seeing how you're married with a young son. She should have told your ass to hit the bricks until you and your wife were divorced, and then look me up. That shit should have told your dumbass something. A decent woman, a woman with morals, and an ounce of self-respect wouldn't have been dippin' and dodgin' with you."
"I get it Elliot, are you looking for a repeat of Thursday's performance." I was sick of his choir boy act, something neither of us could lay claim to.
"No skin of my nose little brother." It was about to get ugly. "Dad's not here to interfere tonight."
"You mean save your ass, right?" I shot back draining my beer.
"You two cut the shit," Taylor jumped in, sick of our juvenile banter. "If you want to go at each other take it to the ring." Now there's an idea.
No one had anything else to say, and there was awkward silence, everyone gazing off into the night in different directions.
I am brought back to the present as we pull up to Escala, paparazzi are out in force. They converge on the SUV with shouts of….
"It's Grey!"
"Mr. Grey, just coming from seeing your wife or your mistress?"
"Are you having an affair?"
"Are you staying at Escala because Ana put you out?" And on and on.
"Nosy fuckers," I growl under my breath. But I have no one to blame but myself.
Inside the penthouse I head straight for my bedroom, to get a revitalizing shower and change my clothes. I feel menacing, so I dress in all black, black jeans and a black summer weight v-neck sweater with black slip on loafers, my attire matching my mood. In the kitchen I scrounge together some lunch, which only serves to deepen my foul disposition; meal preparation is not my long suit. After eating my sad little concoction I have a glass of Sancerre and set out the file with the copies of the background check, and mug shots that Welch procured. I instruct Taylor to keep the monitors on in the security closet he calls an office here at Escala, just in case my hands should find her throat. I also task him with ordering dinner for John and me from Rock Creek Seafood & Spirits, one of the best seafood restaurants on the west coast and my favorite in Seattle. And make sure to tell him to get something off the menu for himself. I know I will be starved so I order the Roasted beet salad, the Point Judith calamari, and the Dungeness Crab Gnocchi for both of us. To keep myself moving and ward of the antsy feeling creeping up my back I go and select a great vintage for John and I enjoy while we eat and talk.
I am in the study when Taylor informs me that Miss Dennison just pulled in to the garage. I make my way to the great room and stand in front of the floor to ceiling windows looking out toward the Sound glass of wine in hand. The elevator dings, heels click across the marble floor, she is babbling excitedly about the paparazzi out front as she crosses the room, noticing that I have not moved from the window or turned to greet her, she cuts herself off, silence….
"Christian?"
I have to school my features; don't want to give away my true feeling just yet. Impassive, I turn.
"Paige, have a seat." I gesture to the couch opposite of where I intend to sit, but she won't play. The simmering, sultry expression she'd been trying to deliver slips as apprehension dims the fire in her eyes. It takes her a full ten seconds before she moves, the whole time scrutinizing my face, trying to read my mood. Impassive, give nothing away. I step from the window and look as if I am choosing a seat until she commits and I sit opposite her. We continue to stare at one another. I'm a master at this game she won't win. She blinks first, as I knew she would.
"Christian." It's a breathy whisper. "Is this about the pictures on the Nooz website?"
I cock my head in question. "Which pictures?"
"So you've seen them." She slumps momentarily then catches herself and straightens her back. Game on.
"They're not what you th…." I hold my hand to stop the lies falling from her lips. Her eyes widen, but she obeys.
"How, exactly did you become curious about BDSM?" The question throws her. Good, off balance, is just where I want her, no time to make up lies. "Who got you interested?" Dom in full command.
"I…I told you, just a girl I met and became friends with, why?" She's nervous.
"Simple, I want to know. How did you meet her?"
"She would come into the restaurant I worked in after she visited some of the galleries in the area." My heart beat quickens.
"And this was in New York?" I lead the conversation where I want it to go.
"Yes, I've told you all of this." Frantically searching my face she adds, "What is this about?"
"Continue." I say evenly.
She opens her mouth then closes it again. I wait. "After seeing her a couple of times at the restaurant, we struck up a conversation. She said she'd just moved back from Seattle after a major life readjustment. She told me how beautiful Seattle was. That she loved it here, but needed to get away to get herself together. She had several failed relationships and one disastrous marriage. But what really sent her spinning was when the man she loved and felt she was made for fell in love with another woman, one who couldn't even fulfill his needs as well as she could. We got to talking about relationships and love and she told me that I had the look her Dom liked." I feel as if I have been hit between the eyes. She doesn't have to say the name, I know precisely who she's describing. Fucking Leila. I don't know if she notices, but I have a white knuckle grip on my wine glass. If I don't ease my hand it's going to snap the glass in half. I imagine it's Paige's neck and this lessens the tension, even brings a smirk to my lips. This simultaneously eases Paige's small trapped animal expression.
"Paige, what did she look like, describe her."
She eyes me briefly, then drops her gaze, well fuck me, she thinks this is a scene. How stupid, is my first thought, then, I reconsider, and decide to use it to my advantage.
"She's a pretty petite girl, about 5'4" – 5'5", long brown hair, smoky brown, bedroom eyes. With the exception of having brown eyes she's the spitting image of Ana…Sir." I'm off the couch in a flash, grab a handful of her hair and snatch her head back, hard, so that she has no choice but to look me square in the eye.
"Now is not the time to play with me." I manage through a clenched jaw. My tone low and menacing, that and the viselike grip I have on her hair cause fear to take residence in her eyes.
"Did Leila describe me to you?" I'm sure my eyes are as dead as my voice.
"No, she nev…" Knowing she just gave it away she stops. No one does this better than me. I give her head a violent shake; Taylor clears his throat from the entry way.
"I…never told you her name." She bleats.
"You didn't have to." I drop her head with a push. "So you decided to hunt me?"
"No, Christian please listen," She decides rightly to stop the submissive game playing. "Leila never told me your name, her only description was that you were physical perfection, beauty personified, an enigmatic, complex personality, but so lovable…those were her exact words." Tears pool in her eyes. I feel nothing except contempt. "She made being your submissive sound so exciting. I was stagnated in New York, so I decided to come to the place that Leila made sound like Wonderland. Did I daydream about meeting Leila's Dom, yes, sure I did, but I had no hope, just wanted to start my life over again, here." I walk to the bar and get some congnac, this bullshit is surreal. When I turn back her face is drenched in tears, I spy Taylor just outside the entry. I go and stand at the window.
"Approaching my mother was over the line, had I wanted you to meet my family I would have introduced you. I view your behavior as threatening. You obviously don't know me and weren't paying close attention to what Leila told you. I am the reason she won't bring her ass back to Seattle, heed the warning. When I feel threatened I attack." I am barely containing the rage coursing through my system. I want to snatch her from that chair and choke the snot out of her. I take a deep cleansing breath and say what needs to be said to end this.
"I was wrong. You were wrong, and we were definitely wrong together. The only woman that I want, the only woman I love, the only one that has my heart and soul is Anastasia."
"No, no, NO!" She shouts, "I know you love me Christian."
"I've NEVER told you I loved you."
"You may have never said it, but you showed it in a thousand ways. Every time you came to me, every time you came in me, every evening that we came here so you could fuck me instead of going home to play like you were the happy family man. You knew that that life was a lie. Every moment we were together you showed me you preferred me, loved me…wanted a life with me." She desperately pleads her case. "Have you forgotten the weekend in Philly, how we toured Olde City and I learned of your penchant for history, how much fun we had in San Antonio at the River Walk, I still have the little bear you won for me. I'll treasure it forever." And the car, and the clothes, and jewelry my cynical side reminds me
"No, I haven't forgotten, but those memories are bitter for me now, tainted, stained, time stolen from my family because we," I pause to correct myself, "Because I was selfish and cruel to the main person in my life that did not deserve that from me."
"We connect, we fit, we are made for each other, please don't do this, please Christian, please…I didn't hunt you down, but I did know the moment I saw you at the Georgian, Baby I knew you were the man for me." I step toward her, her eyes hopeful, pleading, plaintive; I reach for the file folder on the coffee table and hand it to her.
"No, we are not made for each other, this is over and it never should have been."
She runs her finger over mine as she takes the folder from my hand. Her features go from sheer and utter astonishment, to anger, to resignation, which flicks the switch on my own anger again. Her eyes drop to the contents of the folder; she speaks and never makes eye contact.
"Sadly this is all true. I was an out-of-control young girl. I did all of the stuff reported in this dossier, and I am sorry for it, and I paid for it. Evidently I'm still paying for. If I could go back and change it I would, but I can't. I was under the mistaken idea that this was expunged from my record. That I could start over, reinvent myself. I've never had any more trouble with the law. I'm more than a little angry that you went digging this deeply into my background, I'm no danger to you, I simply want to love you and have you return my love."
"Paige, that's not going to happen, my wife has my heart. She and my son are the most important people to me. I don't know who you are." I nod toward the folder. "I can't have it, more importantly I don't want you in that way anymore. I decided that before I even saw this report. I wish you well, your best course of action at this point is to leave willingly, leave me and my family alone totally. You can keep all the gifts you received, read your NDA, and abide by it. I head for my study. I stop at the entryway and say, "Taylor will see you to your car. Goodbye." Her expression is total bewilderment at what just occurred.
That took longer than I expected, but I still have several hours until Flynn arrives. I get ready to go to the gym and for a swim to burn off some pent up energy. A good session in the playroom would take care of it, but that won't be happening anytime soon, if ever.
When I come out of my bedroom Taylor is standing in the foyer.
"Miss Dennison is away. I stayed downstairs to make sure she didn't speak with any reporters, but the paps got plenty of pictures of her in her car, tearful."
"Thank you. I'm going to the gym." I can't quite meet his eyes.
He gives Wilson a sharp look and abruptly turns and heads to his old quarters without saying a word.
My work out lasts 90 minutes and does little to dull the edge of anxiety I am feeling.
Flynn arrives right on time, Taylor sends Wilson to retrieve our dinners after walking John to my study.
The annoying glint in John's eye tells me this will be a dreadful session.
"Good evening Christian," shit eating grin smothering his lips, "what shall we talk about tonight?"
Fuck.
oo0oo
Thanks to my amazing beta, fungirlygirl, who will give a severe tongue lashing in the morning. I want you guys to know she is a huge contributor to this story, her time, her ideas, her fingertips to keyboard. Thank you, Girl.
I loved emi17's phrase 'brazen trollop' told her not to be surprised to see it in the story, so there you go.
All previous disclaimers still apply.
