She sat on her sofa. Everything around her was boxed up and labelled. It had been three days since the encounter with Michaela at the hotel, and since then, her whole life had been in flux. She and Christian had talked and fucked, fucked and talked. She couldn't get her fill of him and he of her. To her, he was still like a rare and exotic safari animal. Blink, and he was gone. As she sat there, he was indeed gone. Back to Seattle. Even filthy rich men had to tend to their businesses. Nearly a full working week away from Grey Enterprises and they were screaming out for him. He had reluctantly returned at her insistence, and she felt a void around her. Looking around, she didn't know how she had survived the past six years. It has been seven hours and his absence was like a dry thirst, cracking at her lips.
Tomorrow, she would open her door to a moving man, and her life would be uprooted.
The thoughts made her smile like a cat drunk on cream.
She refused to move in with him. She agreed to return to Seattle. She refused a job with him. She agreed to job-hunt on her own merits with his minimal as possible support. She refused to accept a car. She agreed to call upon Taylor's services whenever necessary. They had discussed much, but those were the most pressing agreements they had reached. The thoughts of him being close enough to her to reach, whenever she pleased, for as long as she pleased, made her giddy. She sat with her knees drawn to her chest and marvelled at the difference one drunk call and one week could make. Her cell pinged and she grinned greedily.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Discussions (Continued)
Date: May 28th 2017
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele,
I refer to our recent conversation concerning suitable living accommodations. You were dressed in a pair of white-silk panties and nothing else. You were, if I recall correctly, sitting on your kitchen counter. I give you these facts only to jog your memory.
I believe I may have found you a suitable apartment.
It's close enough to Escala and very safe.
Please see the link below and tell me if you approve.
I shall arrange matters immediately if you do.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc
She rolled her eyes at his clothing description and pressed the blue link provided. She frowned. Clearly, her definition of as minimal as possible support was wildly different from his. The apartment he was proposing was a penthouse, of which he had cleverly blocked off the price-tag, though any dolt would realise it was a six-figure property. Her eyes narrowed as she flicked through the photos.
It was spectacular.
Sighing, she exited the portfolio and opened up a fresh e-mail.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Sneaky Millionaires
Date: May 28th 2017
To: Christian Grey
Mr Grey,
I too refer to our recent communications regarding an appropriate housing solution. You were wearing jeans and no top, because you are a shameless exhibitionist, in love with his own abdominal muscles. I give you these facts to hopefully jog you into some semblance of humility.
That apartment is beautiful.
It is also a penthouse.
It is also, even though you've so cleverly tried to hide it, a multi-million-dollar property.
We agreed on as minimal as possible support.
A small, out-of-the-way apartment, simple and understated will do fine.
Anastasia Steele
Editor-in-Chief, Calling Mr Grey's Bullshit Weekly
She grinned as she flopped deeper down onto the sofa. Some things would never change. The possibility of a fresh start loomed large and she found herself limp with happiness. Looking around the drab walls of the pokey apartment that had seen nothing but her failures, she couldn't wait to lock the door and never return. New York was to be put firmly in her past. For her, it wasn't the city of dreams. Far fucking from it. She would find a job. She would start anew. And like times before, she would try and navigate she and Christian's way through a myriad of obstacles and pitfalls, on the way to happiness. In whatever form that happiness took.
Normal was overrated.
That much, she had learned, in depth.
Her cell beeped.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sneaky Millionaires
Date: May 28th 2017
To: Anastasia Steele
Miss Steele,
I have worked very hard for my abdominal muscles. I like to look at them. And if I recall correctly, you like to look at them too. You like to look at them very much as matter of fact. I am beyond humility. I have never hidden this fact.
The apartment is technically not a penthouse.
So technically it is a mere residential dwelling like any other.
Technically fitting your aggravating demand for as minimal as possible support.
Think on it. You may come to realise that, to me, that is minimal support. Maddening girl.
Make sure you are ready for the movers in any case.
Taylor will collect you first thing in the morning. You are not riding with them. I don't know them.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc
Shameless Exhibitionist
She rolled her eyes to high heaven.
Only Christian Grey could distrust a removal man. Still, a smile played about her face as she typed rapidly, a rare serenity coating her. The fluttering of wings in her stomach was a pleasant sensation. One she had lacked with Chad, even in the early days, and one she had lacked with Rhys, even in the earliest of days. These were Christian Grey wings and none other than he could conjure them up.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Suspicious Pedants
Date: May 28th 2017
To: Christian Grey
Mr Grey,
Maybe I want to ride with the removal man. Perhaps he might be prettier than you. Perhaps he might have stronger abdominal muscles than you. Perhaps he might have an option of humility, too.
The above was a joke by the way.
Stow your twitchy palm (We really do need to finish that particular conversation)
I will be ready first thing in the morning.
Until then,
Anastasia Steele
Maddening Girl
Throwing down the phone with a Cheshire smile across her face, she heaved herself up to make some tea. She had nothing to do and all day to do it. A book lay on the sofa, ready for her to curl up with it. It had been a long time since she'd had the inner peace to simply be by herself with nothing but her imagination to keep her company. As the kettle boiled, a knock suddenly sounded at the door. Setting down the milk and hoping it wasn't the creep from upstairs asking to use her bathroom again, she crossed the apartment. Such was its shitty quality, there was no door peephole.
Telling herself she'd simply say her hot water was out and send him on his way, she opened the door.
Her mouth fell open like a stone as she stared at the very familiar, very handsome man.
Her voice rang with confusion.
"Elliot?"
…
TBC
…