A/N: Apologies for the delayed updates as of late. I fractured my wrist and that makes it a bit difficult to get chapters out in a timely manner. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and sent private messages! It's all much appreciated!
By the time Ana, Caleb, and I get into the car to go home, the high of our engagement has dimmed considerably. From day fucking one I hated Joe Battaglia on sight. I grudgingly had to accept his and Ana's friendship, even though every time I heard his name I wanted to break something—and I would have very much preferred that something to be his face. Now, however, I really am tempted to kill the bastard. It was one thing for him to accuse me of abusing Ana, another thing for him to seemingly have inside information regarding my now former lifestyle, but it is something else entirely for him to put that look of hurt and sadness and what I think might be betrayal on her face. My only regret about the whole thing with Battaglia is that I didn't hit him harder.
This should be an amazing, joyful moment in our lives, but that fucker ruined it for her. It's not something I can just let go. Ana has been hurt enough—mostly by me—and I'll be damned if I just sit idly by and let one more thing go.
Elliot spent most of our brunch looking between Ana and me uncertainly, and his silence didn't go amiss. I lost track of how many times our mother reached over to check his temperature as though she worried that he was coming down with a cold or something. Every time, he gently shrugged her off, insisting he was fine, and a few minutes later, he turned his attention back to us. Actually, I'm a little surprised he didn't pull me aside before he and Kate left, but I suspect he believed confronting me so soon would only cause further problems. And he wouldn't be wrong. As far as I'm concerned, it's none of his fucking business. The only thing I feel compelled to straighten out with him is that I'm not some piece of shit woman beater.
And of course, this leads me to wonder how Battaglia seemed to know what he did. His information is a bit off, but it hit much closer to home than what I'm comfortable with. It never even crossed my mind to consider Ana would have told him anything; she's just not the type of person to broadcast such things, even if we were broken up at the time. She respected my privacy from the beginning; I think I might even have the NDA she signed the first time she visited Escala. It's always possible that one of my former submissives broke confidentiality just enough to make Battaglia suspicious, and that is something I will be thoroughly exploring at my earliest convenience.
A refraction of light catches my attention as we approach Escala and I glance to my right where the sun is causing Ana's ring to sparkle. I can't fight the grin growing on my face, even when I look at my girl's miserable expression as she stares out the window. There has got to be some way to salvage this for her. She'd been so happy last night and this morning—we both were—and I want to see her that way again.
Pulling into the garage below Escala, I feel the tension beginning to build again, though I know this has nothing to do with what happened at the restaurant. It's nervous energy about returning to the penthouse for the first time since the break-in and I'm feeling it just as much as Ana is right now.
I turn off the ignition when I park, though neither of us makes a move exit the car. "The penthouse is completely secure," I promise Ana. "Security in Escala has been increased and nobody is getting into this building who doesn't belong there." I hesitate only a second about whether to tell her about the other security arrangement that was installed while we were away. "In the unlikely event that there is a repeat break-in, Taylor arranged to have a safe room setup in the security office. The entrance is hidden and needs a security code to access—the only people who will have that code are you, me, Taylor, and Mrs. Jones. When the door is closed, an alarm signal will be sent to the police, me, and the entire security team."
She looks slightly overwhelmed at the information she's been given, but she nods in acknowledgment. Soon, the elevator doors are opening into the foyer and I look around for any sign that there had been any trouble. I pay my staff good money to make sure our lives run smoothly at all times and to set our minds at ease, and it looks as though they've managed my expectations perfectly.
"I'm going to put Caleb down," Ana says quietly, not waiting for my response as she starts towards the nursery.
I sigh as she walks away from me, wishing I could turn the clock back to this morning when we were still in bed together and unable to get enough of one another. I can still feel her fingers twisting in my hair, her ankles crossed around my waist, and the way her body always responds to me. Rolling my eyes at my wandering thoughts, I adjust my pants and head towards the nursery just as Ana is softly closing the door. She turns and jumps when she finds me standing behind her, apparently oblivious to her surroundings. Or she's just extra jumpy today.
"I didn't mean to scare you," I say softly, reaching for her hand. "We should talk."
The expression on her face suggests she would rather do anything than talk, particularly since she knows the subject I want to discuss is what happened at the restaurant. Regardless, she allows me to lead her back to the great room where we sit facing one another on the couch, each of us at a loss as to how to begin. Finally, she reaches up and trails her fingers softly over the bruise on my jaw, her eyes sad. "I'm so sorry," she whispers.
I frown at her. "What have you got to be sorry about?" I ask incredulously. "He's the one who should be sorry—hell, even I have reason to be sorry—but you have done nothing wrong."
"I didn't listen to you," she continues. "You didn't want me around him, I ignored that, and this happens."
"It's still not your fault," I say firmly, pulling her into my lap. "Honestly, Ana, to a point, I can even see his side of things." I press a finger to her lips to keep her from speaking. If I'm going to say this, I only want to do it once and any interruption will distract me. "He's in love with you, Anastasia; I saw it every time he looked at you. And because he's in love with you, he wants what I want—for you to be safe and happy. I don't know how he found out what he has or how much he actually knows, but if I were in his shoes and I thought you were being abused, my number one priority would be to get you away from that. He's got a lot more self-restraint than what I would have, but there it is. I'm sure as fuck not defending his actions or the things he said—I'd happily do it again if the opportunity arose. But as I said, I can see where he's coming from."
"If that was his motive, he went about it the wrong way," she replies. "Christian, I never gave him reason to believe I was afraid of you or that you're capable of hurting me."
"I know, baby," I reassure her. "I never thought you had." I hold her tighter against me, replaying the morning in my mind. "I heard what you said."
She turns slightly to meet my gaze. "Which part?" she asks softly.
"All of it," I admit with a crooked smile. "I saw him head into that room and I waited, wanting to see what he'd do if he was alone with you. If he did try something, I'd have ripped his head off, but I got distracted when you started talking about how much you love me and how you know I would rather die than hurt you or Caleb. Did you mean all that?"
"Every word," she confirms, resting her head on my shoulder.
I smile, unable to remember a time when I felt less deserving of the woman in my arms. I don't know how she does it, but anytime I seem to have doubts about whether she feels as strongly for me as I do for her, she surprises me. She defended me today against a man she considered a friend and her words floored me.
"Any idea how he knew what he did?" she asks quietly after a few minutes of silence.
Sighing, I shake my head. "No," I answer. "And I'm not sure if I'm more worried about his lack of knowledge or the fact that he knows anything about my lifestyle at all."
"What if he tries to go to the press?"
I smirk. "He won't," I say confidently. "If he tries, he'll never play baseball ever again."
She looks at me in horror and it takes me a moment to realize my words and tone suggest I'm physically threatening Battaglia.
"Not what I meant," I assure her. "I just meant there won't be a minor league or company softball league that will take him on. I'm done giving out warnings to people; I want control over my life so I can know with absolute certainty that you and Caleb are safe. I've been too soft in some aspects of my life. That changes now."
She doesn't respond, but I know she's wondering just how far those changes reach. I'm tired of spending all my time worried and afraid that something might happen to the people I love; I want us to move on from all of this bullshit and since waiting around for results hasn't solved a fucking thing, it's up to me.
If you want something done right, you'd better do it yourself.
A few days following our disastrous brunch, life seems to be calming down. Finally. I've put Joe out of my mind, rejecting his attempts to contact me via phone call, text message, and email. I haven't listened or read any of his messages—as far as I'm concerned, there is nothing he can say to fix this. There are enough problems in my relationship with Christian Grey to contend with without throwing in toxic opinions from people who don't know the entire story. From an outsider's view, I suppose I can understand how Joe may see the situation, but I have never felt threatened by Christian, not in the way Joe believes, at least, and I meant it with every fiber of my being when I said I know Christian would die before hurting us.
We were finally able to get back to the excitement of our engagement. Kate and Mia have been all over me with plans and ideas that tend to leave me rolling my eyes. Christian's view of the whole thing is that he wants me to have absolutely anything I want for our wedding, whether that means some extravagant fairy tale event Mia is insisting upon, the slightly more intimate setting presented by Kate, or Christian, Caleb, and me stealing away in the middle of the night to elope in Vegas. The latter becomes much more appealing every time I have to listen to Kate and Mia bickering over one another—neither of them sees fit to ask my opinion, insisting they know what they're doing.
Today, I've been given a reprieve in the form of a doctor's appointment. With any luck, I'll get my cast removed, but I'm not holding my breath. Afterwards, I'm planning to surprise Christian at work for lunch, and I'm actually a little nervous about it. The last time I was in Grey House was the day I interviewed Christian in Kate's stead and the meeting had been the beginning of everything. Hopefully this time I won't fall on my face when I walk into his office...
I'm not sure how much he's told his staff about his being thrust into fatherhood and I don't know whether anyone will recognize me as the young college girl from last year who clearly didn't belong in such a setting. I know what Christian will say if I voice these thoughts—I shouldn't give a shit what other people think of me or of us; the only opinions that matter are our own. But he's used to being stared at wherever he goes whereas I'm more accustomed to blending in with my surroundings and going to great lengths to not draw attention to myself.
"Miss Steele, whenever you're ready," Sawyer says briskly, entering the foyer.
I throw him a smile, picking Caleb up from his highchair at the breakfast bar, and reaching for the diaper bag. Sawyer grabs it first, ignoring my insistence that I can take it. He leads us down to the parking garage, the only sound being Caleb's babbling little voice. I haven't wanted to say anything to Christian, because I know he'll go straight into Defcon One, but I think Caleb's coming down with a cold. He's been a little crankier than he normally is in the mornings, much less likely to be pacified with my usual techniques, and his nose has been running like a fountain all morning. If it gets worse, I'll consult with Grace, then inform Christian. It's not as though Caleb has a fever; it's a simple cold, but in Christian's mind, he'll build it up and start hiring the best doctors in the world to treat his son.
As we stop at a red light, I glance out the window and realize we're right next to the building formerly known as Seattle Independent Publishing. The signage is much more subtle now with the words Grey Publishing above the glass doors. I'm still not sure how I feel about Christian buying the company where I would have worked. On one hand, Christian knows no bounds when it comes to his control freakishness and stalking tendencies. The only reason he would have had to buy the company was to keep an eye on me. He would have been right there, involved in every aspect of my life and career, and I know there would have come a point that I began to lose myself, my sense of privacy and independence. It would have undoubtedly been a cause of contention between the two of us, an argument I would lose because he refuses to back down when it comes to my protection.
On the other hand, it's an incredibly sweet gesture, even if it's an over the top one, and I'm certain he's made the place profitable. A small part of me is tempted to ask whether there might still be a position for me there. As stressful as it got at times, I enjoyed working in Savannah even after Caleb was born. It helped take a bit of the monotony out of my days and I'm sure it would have the same effect here. I'm reluctant, though; I have the strangest feeling with everything going on Christian won't be immediately open and receptive to me returning to work, even if he is the owner of the company.
"Okay, Miss Steele."
I look up from where I'm dangling a set of keys in front of Caleb to make him laugh as the doctor enters the room. She smiles at the scene in front of her and goes about arranging my x-rays on a backlit board. I immediately see the difference a few weeks have made—on the left are the original x-ray of my broken arm and I wince, suddenly understanding why the damn thing has hurt so much; on the right is the x-ray taken today and it looks as though the bones have been glued together. I can only see a slight fracture from where I'm sitting.
"Everything looks good so far," the doctor said. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," I answer. "The pain is mostly gone and I've been sleeping through the night. The cast is more of an inconvenience than anything."
The doctor chuckles. "Well, the good news on that front is I think we can get rid of the plaster. We'll need to replace it with a removable brace that you should continue to wear at least until your next appointment. It should be much more comfortable for you. And have you had any major headaches or dizziness?"
We continue to discuss my recovery until a nurse arrives with a pair of electric scissors to remove my cast. It goes quickly, thankfully—Caleb is certainly not a fan of the noise—and Sawyer rises to meet us from his chair in the waiting room. Once we're loaded in the car, Sawyer glances at me through the rearview mirror. "Home, Miss Steele?"
"Actually, I thought I'd visit Christian at work," I answer. "You know, surprise him for lunch..."
I half-expect him to decline my request to go to Grey House or to tell me he'll have to call Taylor and Christian to inform them of the change in my plans, particularly after the last time my plans changed last minute and I landed myself in the hospital. What I didn't expect was to see a mischievous smirk on his face. "As you wish, ma'am," he agrees.
I beam at him and turn my attention to Caleb who is still looking miserable, though thankfully he's asleep for now. A few minutes later, Sawyer pulls up to the curb outside Grey House and immediately jumps out to rush around to the back to retrieve the stroller and helps me get Caleb settled in. "Thank you, Sawyer," I say as he runs ahead to hold open the door to the building for us.
"My pleasure, Miss Steele."
He walks me right pas the front desk, both of us ignoring the impeccably groomed blonde gaping at us in confusion. In the elevator, I quickly check my appearance, fully aware that the last time I was here I felt dreadfully out of place what with all the beautiful women Christian has employed. It occurs to me that I can't recall ever seeing a man wandering around the building. I'll have to ask Christian about that...
The elevator doors open on Christian's floor and I push Caleb's stroller out. Unlike the last time, there is nobody sitting behind the receptionist's desk. I wonder if this means Christian isn't in his office at the moment and I begin to feel disappointed until a door down the hall opens and Taylor exits, making a beeline for me, probably having seen me on the security cameras the second I entered the building.
"Miss Steele," he says. "We weren't expecting you."
"I know," I reply, smiling. "I wanted to surprise Christian."
Taylor's jaw tightens briefly and I think he might be planning his chewing out of Sawyer. "I see," he says, eyes darting towards Christian's office door.
"Is he in?" I ask uneasily, wondering why we're still standing here.
Before Taylor can take a breath to speak, the office door is yanked open and we both look over. Ice fills my veins at the sight of the person exiting. Elena Lincoln's icy gaze finds Caleb and me immediately and she hikes her purse strap further up her shoulder as she starts towards the elevators.
"Well, isn't this a surprise, Anastasia?" she simpers with her Botox smile. "Tired of your little one already? I expect it's difficult to raise a child whose father would rather work all hours of the day and night than be with him."
"Taylor!" a voice barks, causing the three of us to jump. "Please escort Ms. Lincoln off the premises and let it be known that if she steps foot here again, she will be arrested for trespassing."
The bitch troll's expression doesn't change much even with Christian's threat; she only smirks as Taylor guides her to the elevator. Even as the doors close, my gaze is focused on them as I work out my reaction to this very unwanted surprise. I wonder idly what excuse he'll have for me this time, whether he'll just shrug off any attempt at an explanation. I suddenly wish I hadn't decided to visit him unannounced.
"Ana..." His voice is soft and tentative as though he knows I'm moments away from losing it completely. I finally turn towards him and he looks back at me with anxious, wary eyes. "It's not what you think."
I clear my throat, managing to swallow down any snarky retort that could only make things worse for us. "And what is it I think?" I ask him quietly.
He sighs, running his hands through his hair, then using one to gesture at his office. "Come in," he says softly. "Please let me explain before..." Trailing off, he looks all around us as though he's trying to think of a way to phrase the rest of his sentence, then realizes he doesn't even want to think about it.
I push Caleb past him into the office, flinching when his fingers run down my good arm softly. The door closes behind us with a click and rather than facing Christian immediately, I park the stroller and sit down on the same couch where I sat during the interview. After a moment, he comes to sit in the chair beside me and I swear there is a smile of recollection on his face. "I didn't know you'd be here," he says softly, glancing between Caleb and me.
"It was supposed to be a surprise," I reply, fighting to not sound so petulant.
"It was certainly that," he murmurs.
"Why was she here, Christian?"
Again, he sighs. "Because she's spent practically every day since my birthday trying to reach me in one form or another, and I've ignored every attempt," he answers. "I've had nothing to say to her and the last thing I wanted was for her to think we could just go back to being friends after the way she treated you. For the last week or so, she seemed to have given up and I should have been more aware of things, but today when she showed up in the lobby causing a scene, I had to make a decision."
"Why not just let security show her out?"
"Because unfortunately for us, I know her and how she operates. If I had merely told security kick her out on her ass, she would have kept trying and I feared if gone unchecked, she'd try to get to me through you, and that is not a risk I'm willing to take."
I search his expression for any hint that he's lying, but I find none. The explanation actually makes sense, though I still don't understand why he had to speak with her in his office alone. "What did she want?"
"She tried to apologize for what happened on my birthday, but she was full of shit," he answers. "I don't think that woman has been sorry for a thing any day of her life. The real reason is because she wanted to know why I've pulled out of our business partnership."
This is surprising news... "You did? When?"
"The morning before I proposed. I figured if I was going to be so adamant about who you spend your time with, it's only fair that I reciprocate in some way. And honestly, the only reason I agreed to the partnership in the first place was for the sake of our friendship. In the beginning she wasn't very business savvy—she spent most of her life as a trophy wife and after she divorced, she wanted something to occupy herself and set her apart from her ex-husband. Her salons were the result of that. I helped keep an eye on things, business-wise, but aside from that, I have no interest. She didn't like that, of course, and assumed I backed out because you told me to." He smirks briefly as though it's amusing to him that I could tell him to do anything. The irony is that I could get him to do just about anything for me, but that was one thing I wouldn't insist upon—I was willing to accept a business relationship between them. Grudgingly, but it is what it is. "When I informed her the decision was mine, she went into how I've become weak and how it wouldn't be long before 'my needs' overtook my desire to play house with you and Caleb. Her words, Ana, not mine," he adds when I open my mouth indignantly. "I informed her that my life is none of her fucking business, laid out what would happen if she tried to interfere again, and told her to leave. She was barely here for twenty minutes. I never touched her, didn't allow her to touch me, and if she shows her face to me or you again, she will regret it."
I nod in acknowledgment of his words. "Joe's been trying to reach me, too," I admit.
"I'm not surprised," Christian murmurs. "Have you spoken to him?"
"No. And I'm not going to. I don't have time in my life for anybody who treats you that way or doubts us. And that includes that woman."
The look of relief on his expression when he realizes I believe him makes me smile. "I'm sorry you had to see her at all. And for the record, I would have told you about her visit when I got home tonight. I don't want secrets between us, Ana."
"Neither do I," I whisper.
He smiles, eyes widening when he glances at my arm. "Your cast is gone."
"The doctor decided my arm is healing well enough I don't need the plaster anymore," I explain. "Hopefully I can stop using this in a couple weeks."
"That's wonderful news, baby," he says. "What about everything else?"
"The CT scan was clear and the incision where they removed my punctured spleen has healed completely. My ribs are still a little tender at times, but otherwise, I'm good."
A smile slowly grows on his face. "You're better than good, Ana. You're perfect."
Blushing, I look down. "So Caleb and I thought we might take you to lunch," I blurt. "If you're not busy of course."
"I will never be too busy for you. But I think I'll be the one taking you two for lunch," he says in a playfully stern voice.
A few minutes later, we're making our way down to the lobby, Christian's arm wrapped firmly around my waist as I push Caleb's stroller. We stop outside the SUV when Christian's cell phone rings. Rolling his eyes, he gestures for me to load our son in the back while he accepts the call. "Grey," he snaps. I begin to tune out the one-sided conversation, and I would have been successful if not for Christian's rising voice.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he shouts into the phone. People walking down the sidewalk stop and stare at him, only moving on when he shoots each of them a death glare. Even Taylor hears the commotion from inside after Christian told him to stay behind while we go for lunch. He's at Christian's side in an instant and I can feel the anger radiating off my fiancé. "Why the fuck am I just being told about this?"
The longer the conversation goes on, the scarier Christian's expression becomes; I reassure myself that it's not directed at me, but I'm not looking forward to the aftermath. Once he's finished, he throws his phone through the open front window of the SUV, fisting his hair in his hands as he looks wildly around our surroundings. Taylor is suddenly on high alert and quickly ushers us into the car.
"Christian?" I whisper as Taylor pulls away from the curb. "What is it?"
"We're going home," he says shortly, though I'm not sure if this is directed at me or Taylor.
"Why?" I press.
Sighing, he hesitates a moment before looking at me. "Jack Hyde's been murdered."